trans_9 | What the hell is an aluminium falcon?

She'd done it again. She'd promised that she wouldn't but she'd done it all the same. She'd lost her cool and let her emotions govern her again. She feels the vestiges of what she felt at Mykr; rotten, brittle kindling in her gut. All it takes is a single match...

It won't happen again. She's stronger than that. Bee-lining through the ship and chastising herself under her breath, she goes in search of the only thing she had ever needed. Family. They're here somewhere, but between Stacy's awesome presence in the Force and the thrum of life vibrating from the pod caverns she has difficulty centering herself. Not keen on the idea of trawling the entire ship (that's no moon... but it's not far of) she decides to wait for them in the one place they would know to look for her.

Here in the hangar she could be at peace. When people confound her, she knows she can always turn to her beloved machines for solace. Machines speak plainly, machines she understands. When she asks a machine what is wrong, it tells her so that she might fix it.

And that is precisely what she does. She picks a ship, and boy, is it a doozy. Yes, she thinks her family will find her here.

Leaping with the Force onto the battered hood of the craft, she surveys its condition and tuts, "What has he been doing to you, poor baby?"

Minutes later she's an ocean in the stillness of night, absolutely dead to the world. A pair of oversized blast goggles slung over her eyes, she sets about blasting debris from one of the forward vents with a vibrotorch. Occasionally and without realizing, she slips into tunelessly whistling a popular ditty from home.

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It would indeed be a miracle if it didn't let in hard vacuum the moment it was launched. Every flight it made was a kriffing miracle, though that didn't stop it from being both Jaina and her father's pride and joy. It was like a teddy bear- tattered, frayed and missing a buttoned eye, but it had been with her her whole life. There wasn't a ship she knew of that she trusted her journey and her safety with anymore than this one.

But that didn't mean it wouldn't benefit from a pretty zealous patch-up job, which she had begun in earnest.

At least, until she attempted to test the newly decluttered vent, remotely firing the ship's warm up procedures with the Force. Something in the vent ruptured with a smart popping noise, puffing sparks and plumes of smoke into the face of the young mechanic.

She squeaked and dived backwards, "Once a pirate, always a pirate! Anyone'd think he's actually trying to get himself killed!"

Edited 2010-02-07 00:13 (UTC)

Lafiel pushed off and dived, trying to get herself to Jaina before the explosion did. Fortunately the other pilot was out of the way before the flames could do more than lick at her jumpsuit.

Lafiel caught herself on a protrusion and hung there, unsure of how to proceed. "Are you alright? Gaftonesh, it's lucky that freighter isn't leaking fuel or something equally dangerous..."

"I'm fine," she insisted, picking herself back up and pushing the goggles back so she could survey the new damage. Always seemed the way with this ship- to fix one thing you had to break something else, "She's never as bad as she looks. Though, I don't remember her ever looking this bad before..."

"Well, I could help you with repairs if you want. I wasn't an engineer in the Star Forces but i've watched them at their work. You know this vessel then?" Lafiel looked dubiously at the Millenium Falcon as if she expected it to explode at any minute. This was the kindof task that required the buddy system, it seemed.

"She belongs to my father. Gotten me out of a few scrapes too," as things stood, the Falcon was now the closest thing she had to calling a home, "If you're not an engineer, does that make you a pilot?"

Lafiel floated in the zero-g, perfectly at home. "Yes, I was a pilot-trainee aboard Gosroth before I was given the command of Basroil." And suddenly she remembered those clumsy manual controls on the x-wings. What a poor way to fly, to not be able to connect with your machine, to see what it sees, feel oneself in its place. "...Ah, on an Abh ship below cruiser size, the captain is also the pilot."

"That's not uncommon with ships outside the military in my universe. You spend so long in the pilot's chair, you get comfortable," but then, Jaina would say that. She'd been tinkering with machines her whole life. They had character, personality. Getting her hands on the controls, interfacing directly-- it was a bond that she rarely shared with other people.

"I see...If you like, I am uniquely equipped to run a diagnostic. If you'll allow me access to the ship's systems, I can tell you if there's anything wrong...Although I certainly understand if you wouldn't want me to do that." She understood the personal nature of the request. It was something like asking to go into someone's room. After all, in the early days before the empire, the Abh had lived only in their ships, as some still did.

What the hell is an aluminium falcon?

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