Private Tough Love

[James Lanvarok]

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Trudging through the sand, James Lanvarok hauled a sack of parts he had salvaged from the local junk yard. The desert spanned beyond the small outcrop he called him, his freighter standing just outside his house. Raising a hand, he wiped a layer of sweat off his brow, shoving back locks of dark, brown, wavy hair which hadn't been combed in his recent memory.

The parts had been hard to find, and he couldn't afford to buy new ones until he got his workshop set up, but even then, he doubted anybody would want him to work on their ships.

Kicking up sand beneath his boots, James hauled the large, string bag of salvage back to his makeshift home. It was alright, he had a place to work on his ship, a fridge and computer where he could talk to Sebastian over the holo-net, but it wasn't much. He was just looking forward to finish repairing the old freighter so he could join the Coalition and fight the Empire. Turning into the outcrop, James hauled his bag of salvage onto his workbench, when something caught his eye in the distance.

Several meters away, was a ship, and by the looks of it, whoever owned it was walking towards him. They were a woman, and she looked fierce.

"Kark," James cursed.

"What does she want?" He thought to himself, groaning as he scratched his backside. Wearing a bomber jacket and britches from his old military uniform, he squinted as he looked at the woman. Shaved head, pieces of armor, if James wasn't mistaken, she looked like a warrior. The sun blared down, bringing sweat to the back of his neck and stinging his eyes. Squinting, he shielded his eyes and stared, top lip turned up.

The woman kept walking and there was little James could do other than receive her. Swallowing a gulp, he placed a foot a foot forward and approached. He walked like a small bear, clumsily, as strongly as his short legs could carry him. Raising a hand, he shielded his eyes from the sun and glared, frustrated that somebody had just waltzed onto his turf. The woman must have seen him. She stopped in the middle of the plain and the space between them dispersed. Halting, James spun around, looked at his ship and held his breath, then turned around to face her.

"What the kark do you want?!" He shouted, his Sith-Imperial heritage notable in his accent, "my workshop isn't open yet, so I'm not fixing ships, now piss off!" Waving a hand, James bellowed across the desert, grumbling as he turned around to walk away.

When he turned back around, the woman was still there.

"I thought I told you to piss off!" James shouted.

[member="Keira Priest"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Cursing her luck, Keira did her best to block out the warning lights and chirping of her ship’s alarm systems that told her repairs were required immediately, lest she want to float through the cold black of space to her next destination. If she was being entirely honest, she’d neglected a once-over and tune-up for perhaps too long, but that was neither here nor there. Now it was a matter of what planet she was nearest to, and then finding a scrapyard or repair shop to get the parts she needed and get on her way.

Tatooine was her best bet, and she set her ship down in the midst of a modest settlement and a scrapyard within a reasonable distance. Seemingly in the nick of time as well, as it was at that point the systems decided to notify her of the critical state of things. With a sigh, she began shutting things down, trudging her way to the back and opening the engine compartment, coughing and waving away the smoke that rose to greet her. Osik.

Thankfully the small dwelling seemed to be inhabited, but as soon as she was within any sort of reasonable distance the sole inhabitant waved her off with a shout, informing her matter-of-factly that he wasn’t out to help anyone. Well, she’d certainly been met with better, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Raising her hands, she spoke, “Udesii, ad’ika.”

He was young by the looks of it, no older than his mid-twenties. Ex-military, or perhaps just out on leave, based on his dress. Imperial, or something close to it. In the past that would have raised the hairs on the back of her neck, but it meant little and less now, she reminded herself. Not here and now, at least.

“I’m just here for parts and maybe some help fixing my ship, and then I’ll leave. You’ll be paid for your time, if that’s your concern. But if you’re that insistent, I’ll leave, ‘lek? That’s all.”

[member="James Lanvarok"]

 

[James Lanvarok]

The woman raised her hands and uttered a phrase.

Oh chit.

A Mandalorian.

James knew a little bit of Mando'a from reading comic books, but couldn't understand what the woman had said. With a slight yelp, he recoiled into the collar of his bomber jacket and froze, too scared to move. The woman said she wanted parts, to which James shifted his eyes

And she was willing to pay.

With the price he charged her for the parts, he could buy the parts he needed to repair his freighter. Eyes wide, he scratched his backside as he thought about the offer. He breathed in and exhaled, then turned to face her.

"Oh alright, but expect to pay!" He groaned in defeat.

Pulling his feet through the sand, James grabbed his toolkit and walked past the woman, grumbling to himself. He scooted to the side slightly as he walked past her. She was scary, and looked like she could beat him to a pulp if she wanted. Toolkit in hand, he trudged up to the ship and looked around The sun bore down, bringing sweat to the back of his neck and the sandy plains spanned for miles. It had been James' backyard for the past few months. Walking up the ramp, James carried the toolkit into the cockpit and took a quick look at the settings for the hyperdrive.

The hyperdrive was jammed, so the ship couldn't jump to hyperspace. On top of that, there was excess friction in the controls operating the hyperdrive, which would explain the jamming.

Scoffing, James pulled down his goggles, picked up his toolkit and walked into the engine room. He looked up to see the woman following him. Mandalorian girls. They were trained all their lives to fight, so James would have thought they were taught basic tech. Apparently not. It just went to show that all girls were inherently bad at science, no matter how tough they were. Toolkit in hand, he carried it to the engine room and opened it, then began smoothing out the rate at which the hyperdrive functioned.

A spanner in hand, he loosened the controls and soldered the drives' wiring, then felt the presence of the Mandalorian woman hovering over him.

"They teach you bitches how to fight, but you still can't fix a karking hyperdrive," James slurred, carefully soldering the wires as he did so.

Uh-oh.

Was that one of those moments were he had said what he wanted to say and not what he was supposed to say? Eyes wide, he recoiled, expecting to be reprimanded.

[member="Keira Priest"]

 

[Keira Priest]

The inherent unease her people garnered simply by existing was something Keira was used to by now, and she’d learned to brush it off most times as nothing more than the lack of understanding outsiders had about how they operated. This, though, was something new. Despite his initial moment of fear upon recognizing her as Mandalorian, it didn’t stop what she suspected to be his typical attitude from shining through, meaning he either didn’t care or lacked the self-awareness to remember what had made him so fearful in the first place. Either way, it was sure as hell amusing to her. Maybe it had just been too long since she’d been out in the galaxy like this.

Shaking her head, she laughed quietly. “I suppose that’s fair, ‘lek. But they teach us a lot more than how to fight.” Watching him work, she was reminded of when she was a child, sitting about the hangar that sat near the Ticon manor, watching the ships there being worked on with the sort of enraptured fascination only a child could manage. When life was simpler, and she had little else to worry about other than what mischief she and her siblings would find themselves in next. It had been ages since she’d remembered so fondly, but the memories brought a small smile to her face all the same.

“My brothers taught me a bit, back when I still lived on Corellia. I know most of the basics, but not much more.” No, the family had been driven apart before she was able to learn much else, the death of their parents sending the whole family into disarray. While he may have believed to the contrary, the Mandalorians had only become kin to her two decades ago, hardly encompassing the lifetime he no doubt imagined.

Allowing the silence to linger for a moment, she watched him work, leaning up against the nearby wall with her arms crossed. “Just some friendly advice, take it or leave it, but you don’t be making many friends talking like that. Especially not to other vode. Most aren’t as patient.” No, most that she’d known in the past would have put him on the ground just for that, and had she been a decade or two younger perhaps she would have done the same, but age granted her the wisdom and forgiveness to do otherwise.

“You’re not from around here.” Indicating his dress with a nod of her head, she made conversation in one of the few ways she knew how, “How long did you serve?”

[member="James Lanvarok"]

 

[James Lanvarok]

Spanner in hand, James spun around as the woman called him something in Mando'a.

"What the kark does that mean?" He snapped, confused by the word she had used.

She hadn't even flinched when he had yelled at her or demeaned Mandalorian women. The woman was tough and had a resolute of steel. James kinda respected that. She looked older as well, probably the age his mother might have been if she was still alive, in other words, too old to give a kark about what some dumb kid like him said. Standing above the hyperdrive, he panted, chest heaving up and down as he stared at her, bemused by her lack of reaction to his disrespect.

A pause followed.

James shifted his eyes, his bottom lip hanging open. Scoffing, he shoved back his goggles with his spanner and turned around, then continued to reassemble the controls of the hyperdrive.

"What's your name?" He asked, still grumpy.

The woman than explained that she learned most of what she knew about tech from her brothers, to which he sighed, feeling kind of bad for insulting her before. She had clearly seen and survived combat, which was more than he had ever done, so he had no right to chit on her for not being as good with tech as him.

"That explains why your hyperdrive is jammed," he slurred, resetting the accelerator so the hyperdrive functioned smoothly, "ugh!" He groaned, not at the woman, but at himself.

He didn't know why he couldn't just say the right thing. Whether because he was just so pissed off with himself and insecure all the time, he didn't know, all he knew what he shouldn't have said what he just said. Spanner in hand, James turned around and hung his head, looking at the ground like a dog that had just been whacked for pissing on the floor.

"Yes, I know that!" He belted, "I just... can't help it," he groaned, eyes half closing. He was exhausted simply by explaining himself.

The woman noticed his britches and asked how long he had served in the military, to which James recoiled, his chubby cheeks turning red. He didn't want to tell her truth, but she had asked, so he felt like he had too. Closing his eyes, he sighed and looked at the ground.

"A month, then I was discharged," James sighed. He was humiliated, his cheeks scarlet.

"I..." he began, then his voice cut out. He inhaled, took a breath and sighed, "I have chitty hand-eye coordination, so I'm bad at flying and couldn't stay in the navy," he admitted, features drooping.

[member="Keira Priest"]

 

[Keira Priest]

“Name’s Keira.” After watching him for the amount of time it had taken him to fix things, she determined he’d either been alone for the majority of his life, or lacked the proper caretakers when he was young to pick up on the right mannerisms. Nothing Keira was able to fault him for, given her upbringing, but it brought understanding into the equation when it would have been far too easily to get frustrated and throw up her hands. But he didn’t need that, a patient hand would be more apt, something she could see he was already benefiting from in the time they’d been talking.

With a shake of her head she waved a hand as if to dismiss his embarrassment, finding nothing to judge him for in that (seemingly rare) moment of plain honesty. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. I served for years, and I’m not much better for it. Hell, pretty sure I walked away worse than when I first signed on, and that’s saying something. Military service like that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Of course, that could have just as likely had something to do with the government she’d served. The Galactic Republic hadn’t exactly been a shining beacon of the galaxy it presented to those on the outside, and she’d been privy to the worst of it.

Flashing a crooked smile akin to something a parent would give after their child had said something amusing, she considered his excuse - he couldn’t help it. Once upon a time she’d used those same words to excuse far worse things, and realized too late that they were hollow and meaningless. Because there was always something to do, no matter how small, that would bring about improvement. It was simply a matter of being willing to put in the time and effort to do so, something that most struggled with. He looked to be at about the same age she’d been when she first came to the conclusion that she would have to do something herself to fix her life, instead of waiting for the universe to drop an opportunity into her lap.

“Jehaat. You can help it, ad’ika, you’re just choosing not to. There’s a difference between lacking the ability to do anything and just sitting by and not doing anything to change. I won’t tell you what to do with your life, but if you think you’re unable to change, young as you are, I’d say you have a lot left to learn.”

[member="James Lanvarok"]

 

[James Lanvarok]

The woman gave James her name. As he soldered the hyperdrives wires, he shoved back his goggles and gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement, smiling a little.

"James, James Lanvarok," he said, revealing his Sith-Imperial surname, "call me Jim if you like, I don't care," he shrugged.

Once he had finished soldering the wires, he rearranged the controls of the hyperdrive to make it run more smoothly, wrenched them into place and screwed the front on. He turned off his soldering iron, shoved his goggles back and stood at his full height, brushing his hands.

Keira dismissed James' embarrassment about being discharged from the Imperial navy. Shrinking into the collar of his bomber jacket, he rubbed his arm awkwardly and looked at the ground, cheeks tinted red. He wanted to thank her for not judging him, but was too embarrassed. He remembered the day he had faced his father when he was discharged. The shame still affected him, and if it wasn't for [member="Sebastian Thel"], his best friend, he might not be talking to Keira now. As Keira explained her own training and he had done little for her, James looked at the deck of the ship and shuffled his feet.

"That's not what my dad told me," his voice was small, like the whine of a limping dog.

James slumped his shoulders and sighed. He placed his forehead in his hand and gritted his teeth when Keira told him that he could help it, he was just choosing not to. He had heard that many times before and he was sick of it. Eyes closed, he hung his head and huffed, glaring slightly as he opened his eyes.

"But I've tried, so many times," he said through clenched teeth. Looking up at Keira, his icy, blue eyes widened, "I tried being polite, but people still treat me like chit, girls still hate me and nobody takes me seriously, so I just don't bother anymore," he threw down the soldering iron.

He inhaled and sighed, his chest deflating. His eyelids lowered and he placed his head in his hand, running his fingers wearily through his hair. He had tried losing weight, applying for different kinds of jobs and submitting his projects to different engineering programs, but they all rejected him because he was too awkward, lost his temper when he got confused or made the female assessors uncomfortable. There was a pause, and James packed up his toolkit and dragged his feet past Keira, not passing her a glance as he walked into the boarding area.

"Nobody ever tells me that I've done well, so I just assume that I can't do any better, so I don't try," back facing Keira, he shrugged, his voice cracking up in anguish.

[member="Keira Priest"]