Private Through the Hangars

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar moved through the labyrinth of hangars, Cupcake padding silently at his heels. Each bay was a world of its own: some cluttered with crates of spare parts, tools hanging like stalactites from overhead racks; others echoed with the low thrum of engine maintenance or the hiss of hydraulics. He checked each corner meticulously, his eyes catching glimpses of drones being serviced, hovercrafts resting on lifts, and the occasional lone mechanic bent over a console.

Nothing yet. Not the part he needed for the Vigo-77, not a trace of the small, specialized components that Dean and he relied on to keep their gunship alive. He muttered under his breath, stepping over a coil of cabling, glancing up at the flickering lights that barely cut through the shadows. Cupcake's nose twitched at every metallic scent, her instincts picking up what his eyes sometimes missed.


Finally, at the far end of the complex, he noticed a hangar tucked just slightly off the main corridor, half-hidden behind a row of cargo containers. A faint heat shimmer leaked from under its doors. He slowed, sensing something different here, something more deliberate than the haphazard storage of the other bays.

Pushing the doors open, he stepped inside and froze for a moment. There, bathed in the glow of maintenance lights, was a ship that made him pause: sleek, reinforced, every line engineered for speed and power. An INT-66 Gunship, but heavily modified, its engines augmented beyond standard specs. The name Oathkeeper was stenciled along the side, bold and precise.


Rynar's voice carried through the cavernous space, steady but deliberate: "Anyone in here? I'm looking for a part for a Vigo-77."
Cupcake's ears twitched. The hangar was silent at first, the only sound the soft hiss of cooling engines. But the aura of the place made him pause—a ship like that wasn't just parked for show.

Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

Vael had picked this hangar precisely because it was so out of the way. It allowed him to work more effectively, unbothered by the distractions of the rest of the bay. The Oathkeeper was in need of some standard maintenance, so he slipped the manager some extra credits for the privacy he needed. Privacy that was now, unfortunately, being invaded. He sighed, dropping down from the left wing to see exactly who was interrupting him.

He did not expect to see another Mandalorian staring back at him, even if the filter on the voice should have clued him in. Saren visibly paused at the sight of him, taking in the other warrior for a brief moment. The other man wore his beskar well, carried like a man who had seen his fair share. His beast, while visually unsettling, seemed tame enough. He unconsciously straightened out his armor before moving forward again.

"Olarom, brother," he said, "It does me well to see another of our kind in these parts. Speaking of parts... I'm not sure I have what you're looking for, but I'm willing to help search." It was only right to help a brother in need, after all.

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar's shoulders eased slightly as he heard Vael's voice, another Mandalorian. Even beneath his visor, a faint smile tugged at his expression. Cupcake brushed closer, tail flicking, sensing the subtle shift.

"It's good to run into another of our own," Rynar said, voice calm but sincere. He gestured briefly to the scattered tools on his belt. "I'm looking for a replacement conduit, something for the Vigo‑77's fuel regulator system. Standard parts haven't been cutting it."

He inclined his head in thanks. "I appreciate your offer to help search."
Correcting himself, he straightened and added, "Rynar Solde, archaeologist and archivist by specialty." Cupcake gave a soft yip at his side. "This is Cupcake."
Without thinking, he lifted his helmet and held it under one arm, the glinting visor catching the hangar lights. He paused, aware the gesture could be interpreted in many ways.

"If my motion offended you, I apologize," he said, measured. "If you wish, I will keep my helmet on for the duration of our time together."
He let the words settle, then continued. "My father followed the Way of the Mandalore. I only ever saw his face upon his death." He tapped the helmet lightly. "This belonged to him. I honor his memory, but my loyalty lies with Mandalore the Iron and my clan, which I am rebuilding."
He met Vael's eyes behind the visor, steady and open. "Shall we start searching this bay together?"

Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

Seeing the other man lifting his helmet sent a shiver through Vael. He knew that many on Mandalore did not follow the Way. It was not a path everyone was meant to follow, same as the Jedi, or Sith, or any other firm religion. It still gave him pause, though. This man may be a fellow warrior, but they were not of the same stripe.

"It is not my Way to remove my helmet," he said, "but my way is not yours. I would not hold you to standards you do not adhere to. If you wish to doff your helm, I will not stop you. We all serve Mandalore in our own way." He turned his attention, then, to the nexu sitting next to Rynar. "Cupcake, eh? I can't tell if that's fitting or ironic." He held out a hand to the beast, letting it come to him rather than imposing on its space.

"My name is Vael Saren. Hunter, Warrior, sometimes-mechanic when the need arises. Sometimes-cook when I can find the materials." He took in the rest of what Solde said. A new conduit for his Vigo, eh? It wasn't a particularly rare bit of hardware, but with all the spare parts lying around the hangar, finding one could prove challenging.

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar's shoulders relaxed, his face fully visible now under the hangar lights. A faint, appreciative smile touched his features. "I appreciate that, Vael… not looking down on me for doing what I must. It means more than you may realize."

He let his eyes sweep over the hangar racks, noting the scattered components. From a pocket on his belt, he produced a compact holo‑projector, flicking it on. A three‑dimensional schematic of the conduit floated between them, rotating slowly, glowing softly in the dim light.

Cupcake padded closer, sniffing Vael's extended hand before letting out a soft, playful growl and snapping her jaws just short of contact. Rynar's lips curved into a grin. "That's her way of saying hello. If she didn't like you, I promise she would've taken a chunk out of your hand by now."

For a heartbeat, his serious expression broke completely, and a low laugh escaped him. "I'm just messing with you, vod." He tapped the side of the holo, spinning the schematic again. "This is the part. If you've seen anything lying around like this, it'd save me a lot of wandering."


Cupcake let out a small rumble, tail flicking as she leaned against him, clearly approving of the interaction.

Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

He resisted the reflex to pull his hand away from Cupcake's near-bite, more to avoid the appearance of weakness to the creature than anything else. When Solde pulled the holo-projector from his belt, Saren gave the hologram a thorough once-over. That piece did indeed look familiar. It was not one he had been working with, but he knew he had seen it somewhere nearby.

"I think I saw that part in an empty hangar not too far from here," he mused, "I think I saw it earlier when I was perusing for an astromech port I could install into the Oathkeeper. By the by, I am in the market for a decent astromech. Kind of getting tired of flying solo, so to speak, but I'm... not exactly a people person. You wouldn't happen to know a reputable seller, would you? Preferably someone who's willing to give discounts in exchange for services?" Saren did not consider himself cheap, per se, but starship maintenance was an expensive thing. Especially when said starship also served as his home and as a stockade for bounties.

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar's lips curved into a small, understanding smile. "Thanks, Vael. I get it, flying solo can wear on you, even for the best pilots. I might have a few contacts who could help you find an astromech, assuming they're willing to trade favors or discounted work. What model are you looking for?"

He gestured toward the corridor between the hangars, where dim overhead lights glinted off crates, scaffolding, and the occasional idle droid. "If that part's where you think it is, we can head over and check it out together."

Cupcake padded a few steps ahead, her claws clicking softly against the metal floor. She paused, tail flicking, then glanced back at Rynar. He crouched slightly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Stay here and keep an eye on the Oathkeeper, girl. Guard him while we check the part."

The nexu let out a low rumble, settling close to the ship, her body a silent promise of vigilance.
Rynar fell into step beside Vael as they walked, the echo of their boots bouncing off the vast hangar walls. The scent of engine oil, scorched metal, and faint ozone hung in the air, mingling with the distant hiss of coolant lines and the occasional clang of tools. He allowed his eyes to wander briefly, taking in the scattered racks of spare components, the glow of idle consoles, and the long shadows cast by half‑disassembled craft.


"It's not the most exciting walk in the galaxy," he said with a faint chuckle, "but hangars like these always hide something useful if you know where to look." His gaze flicked back toward Vael. "Let me know exactly what astromech you're after. I may have a few contacts who can point you in the right direction, or at least get you a decent deal."


The corridor stretched ahead, lined with crates, maintenance lifts, and the occasional drifting spark of welder arcs from a distant bay. Cupcake's soft rumbles and careful padding behind them marked a quiet reassurance that the Oathkeeper was not alone, even as Rynar and Vael continued toward the hangar that held the elusive part.

Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

"I appreciate you leaving a watch," Vael said gratefully, "I don't think anyone here is foolish enough to try and steal the Oathkeeper, but it never hurts to be sure." He began the short trek to the unoccupied hangar. As he walked, his gait jostled his cloak away from his side, briefly revealing the hilt of a lightsaber underneath it. It was a sleek design - practical, with few frills. Silver, with golden rings accenting its length. Either not noticing or not caring, he continued onward.

"I'm looking for something reliable, efficient. Probably somewhere in the later iterations of the R-series. I've heard those droids are damn near indispensable to their owners." He was not particularly picky, but he needed something he knew he could rely on.

The hangar's lights were dimmed, and the pile of parts was just as large and mildly intimidating as it had been the last time he sifted through it. Just so much machinery, waiting to collapse and crush some unfortunate halfwit with careless hands and too much enthusiasm.

"The part you're looking for should be in here somewhere." He looked the metal hill up and down once more. "It looks like others have been in here since I was, so it might've gotten buried." With that, he set to work carefully digging in. This could take a while.

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar caught the brief flash of metal beneath Vael's cloak as they walked, silver, accented in gold. A lightsaber.
He didn't comment. He'd crossed paths with Jedi, Sith, and everything in between often enough that it barely registered anymore. Tools were tools. People were what mattered.

The dim hangar opened up before them, shadows pooling around the massive heap of scavenged machinery. Rynar let out a quiet breath through his nose as he took it in.

"Reliable and efficient is a good standard," he replied. "Later R-series units are solid. If you can get your hands on a well-maintained R7 or R9, you'll wonder how you ever flew without one."
He stepped closer to the pile as Vael began carefully shifting components. Rynar knelt, running his gloved fingers over exposed plating and half-buried assemblies, eyes moving quickly, cataloging shapes, serial stamps, stress fractures. Archaeology wasn't just ancient ruins. It was pattern recognition. Context. Knowing what didn't belong.

Then he froze.
His hand brushed against something unmistakable.
Carefully, reverently, he eased the piece free.
His brows lifted just slightly.
"Well I'll be…" he murmured.


It was old. Very old. An intact power-routing manifold from an Aurek-class tactical strikefighter, Old Republic era. Rare enough that most archivists only ever saw holos of them. He turned it gently in his hands, inspecting the integrity of the connectors.
"Still in good shape," he said quietly, mostly to himself. "Compatible with a Liberator-class starfighter too, if you know how to adapt the mounts…"

He caught himself, clearing his throat softly.
"Sorry. Archivist habit."
With practiced ease, he slipped the part into a padded pocket at his hip. "I know someone who's been hunting one of these."
Then his focus snapped back to the task at hand. He moved deeper into the pile beside Vael, carefully shifting larger pieces aside, checking conduits, comparing diameters and couplings against the mental schematic of the Vigo-77's regulator system.


After a moment, without looking up, he spoke again, polite, measured.
"Hope you don't mind me asking, vod… the saber. Custom build?"
His hands continued working as he spoke, eyes scanning for the familiar shape of the conduit they'd come for.

Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

Vael nodded along with Rynar's explanation of the piece he had found. It was interesting, hearing about things he did not have much experience with. When the other man began apologizing, he raised a hand to stop him.

"No need for that, vod," he said, "I would never begrudge a man his interests."

Then, the question came. Saren had honestly been wondering how long it would take for the topic of the saber to crop up. He looked down at it, hanging from his waist.

"Indeed," he replied, "from power cell to kyber crystal. All part of the training, you know? Getting the kyber and attuning it was one of the more difficult missions I'd undertaken up to that point." He considered giving Solde a demonstration, but thought better of it. It likely would not be wise to show off such a powerful and valuable weapon so openly. Instead, he turned his attention back to the pile, tossing aside a blown-out power converter that had somehow missed the trip to the scrap heap.

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar nodded slowly at Vael's explanation, filing it away without judgment. The construction of a lightsaber wasn't something he had firsthand experience with, but he understood rites of passage when he heard them. He glanced once more at the weapon at Vael's side, then back to the pile.

"Figured as much," he said quietly. "Not many carry one of those without having walked that road first."
He shifted a heavy stabilizer plate aside and crouched lower, sorting through a tangle of conduits and cracked housings.


"The Jedi path isn't for the weak," Rynar continued, voice even. "I respect that. But walking away from it… that takes something else entirely." He exhaled softly through his nose. "The way of Mandalore demands a different kind of strength. To don the helm and never remove it... that's commitment. Something most Jedi never really understood."

He paused, then added, not unkindly, "I respect them. But their way has flaws. Too much distance from the people they're meant to protect."
His fingers closed around a familiar shape.


"Ah..."
He drew it free, turning it in his hands, hope flickering for a heartbeat… then fading. He rotated the connector, inspecting the socket geometry.
"…nope."

He shook his head with a small huff of amusement. "Close, but not it. Socket's wrong, and the O-ring's thinner than what I need. Would've blown a seal the first time I spooled the engines."

He set the piece aside carefully and leaned back on his heels. Reaching to his belt, he pulled free a compact flask, twisted the cap, and took a measured sip before resealing it.
"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders slightly. "Back to the hunt."
His gaze returned to the pile, hands already moving again, methodical and patient.

Vael Saren