Tyger, Tyger, burning bright [OPEN]

[we_deliver]

It hadn't taken Trudy very long to find out that aircraft and spacecraft were sometimes recovered with their pilots - and when she found that out, she had immediately gone in search of the hangar. She had her rifle and her dog tags - if she had her Samson, she would have everything she needed out of life

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[sithhavecooties]

He'd spent most of his time exploring the ship just to observe, but here, in the sprawling hangar chamber, he had a more personal goal: to find the Jade Shadow tucked away behind a yacht or gunboat. He passed at least a squadron's worth of X-Wings, the familiar disc of the Millenium Falcon, and ships he didn't recognize at all, even after years of watching the Coruscant skyline.

But the Shadow was nowhere to be seen.

That made sense, he thought, with a passing twinge of bitterness. The Shadow wasn't his ship, after all. Legally, it was his father's, and, even years after her death, the heart and soul of the ship was still his mother's, from the engine to the most insignificant switch on the control board. And if Mara Jade were too young to get along with his father here, there was no way she'd fly anything that had been a gift from her future husband.

So Ben went back to examining some of the unfamiliar craft, taking mental notes on repulsor capabilities and weapons turrets, until he came across one exceptionally tortured-looking hunk of metal. Stang. With all the holes in the exterior, it looked about as space-worthy as a flimsibox. He called to the woman inside, "Is she yours?"

[we_deliver]

Trudy had moved on from the access panel and was currently wedged under the control board in the cockpit, soldering loose wires together. At the sound of Ben's voice, she thumped the heel of her boot against the side of the door and said, "Yep, me bebe, every scorched-up inch of her."

She squeezed out from under the panel and sat up, looking down at the kid and running her fingers through her hair. "Aren't you a little young to get nabbed as a savior of universes?"

[sithhavecooties]

Ben rolled his eyes. He'd already heard enough of that to last a lifetime -- or, at least, until he hit whatever the arbitrary age for hero status was. "Maybe you're a little old," he retorted.

[we_deliver]

"Hey, watch who you're calling old, runt," Trudy said. "And watch how you talk to your elders. I swear if I was your mama I'd whoop your ass for that."

She grinned a little - only a little. She was joking, but not much. Wiseass kids were not her favorite thing to deal with.

[sithhavecooties]

He crossed his arms. "Don't break a hip hopping out of that shot-up bird."

[we_deliver]

"You talk about a pilot's bird like that, you are gonna get smacked." Trudy hopped down out of the cockpit and walked over to him, standing over him with her hand on her hip.

Then her hand lashed out like she was going to give him a good, painful whack to the back of the head - just like he was a recruit that got a little too smart with her.

[sithhavecooties]

Avoiding the smacks of vengeful pilots wasn't on any Jedi's list of Top Ten Things to Do with the Force, but Ben was glad his danger sense kicked in anyway. He ducked under the blow, then took a long step away from her. "Guess I'm too young to know better," he said innocently.

[we_deliver]

"Yeah, yeah, don't push your luck, kiddo," Trudy said, turning back to the copter. "If you're going to sit there and smart off, you might as well make yourself useful helping to fix my girl here. Or you can make yourself scarce, I don't care either way. What's your name?"

[sithhavecooties]

"Ben Skywalker," he said, keeping out of arm's reach. "What, fix this? It would take a half-ton of metal just to make space-worthy, and I'll be Kessled if the fuel tank's anything but a burnt-up lump."

[we_deliver]

"It's not supposed to be space-worthy, chico. It's an atmosphere craft. Do you have eyes and a brain or is the whole surface area of your head taken up but your smart mouth? Or couldn't you notice it's got rotors?"

Trudy grinned to herself. This kid was more than a handful - she'd hate to be his dad.

[sithhavecooties]

"And what good's an atmosphere craft in deep space?" he asked, gesturing widely. "There's not a whole lot of atmosphere."

[we_deliver]

"Maybe not now," Trudy said. She slipped back down underneath the panel she'd been working on, sorting through the wires. "Damn, the whole things busted," she muttered to herself. Louder, for the kid's benefit, she said, "Haven't you ever heard of diversification? Single-purpose craft, specialized use. Never know when you might need her." The panel for the next section over was stuck - she pried it off with a grunt. "Might as well fix her before that day happens."

[sithhavecooties]

"Fix her with what?" He moved closer to the ship's hull, craning his neck to take in the propulsion systems. "You know none of the X-Wings will have spares that work with something this old, right?" Although, given his uncle's tendency to take the Falcon into battle zones, raiding the freighter's supplies might yield the tools to patch up the hull breaches.

[we_deliver]

"What are you talking about, old, this is state-of-the-art new technology where I come from," Trudy said. "And it's not like I need much," Trudy fidgeted, trying to fit the soldering iron into a tiny little space where it was not meant to go. "Just-" she scooted back a little more and paused.

In this section, the wires weren't just severed - they were melted. And no amount of solder was going to fix that. "Fucking hell," Trudy said, throwing the soldering iron against the door. "Shit's melted back here. Need to replace the whole circuitry system."

[sithhavecooties]

Ben poked his head in behind her and glanced down at the mass of fused wiring. "Was state of the art." He wasn't half the mechanic his cousin Jaina was, but it was pretty clear that the circuitry was fried bad. "Hull damage I could help you with, but not that tangle."

[we_deliver]

Trudy hauled herself up into the pilot's seat, looking particularly dejected. The kid was right. Without parts, there'd be no fixing her Samson.

She reached out and put her hand on the control panel, stroking over it lovingly. "Well, me bebe, looks like you've carried me just about as far as you can right now, hm?"

Another pilot would recognize the tone of pure dejection in her voice - it was almost grief. It was grief.