And suddenly a fourth problem reared its head. 

“Just our luck, I guess.” 

The girl sighed as she rose from the cockpit, grabbing her blaster pistol from the dash as she did so. She left the intercom on as she checked the system diagnostics one last time. She wasn’t sure how she missed the report on the transformer, but there it was flashing in red. On the bright side, salvaging for common parts needed for transformer repair wasn’t all that out there. It was certainly easier than finding the exact type of angstromatic disc they needed. Easier than finding transponder codes that wouldn’t get them shot into stardust from an imperial cruiser. 

“We’re gonna have to salvage. Should be the easiest thing to find on our grocery list.” She said over intercom, “Just going to have to hope we don’t run into trouble. There’ll be enough of that hunting down the transponder codes we need. See you in five... going to make sure I got what I need ready.”

Leaving the pilot’s seat Tryansa took another breath to calm her nerves as her brain went over everything she needed to remember when they left the interior of The Carthage. Broken transformer. Inoperable transponder codes. A compatible angstromatic disc. Not enough credits. It sounded like they needed to make contacts, though the only contacts on Andares Prime she still had didn’t want to see her, let alone hire her and someone they had no track record with. 

Miranda was good. Back when Tryansa was last on Andares Prime she hadn’t met her yet and Tryansa herself was rather inexperienced and plucky, a mostly green pilot and occasional hireling. If the local settlement was still run by that old warlord then she would be in steep trouble given how much she had set his operations back. At the very least if he was listening he wouldn’t have recognized The Carthage as its original transponder codes had been wiped from its databanks some years prior to Tryansa meeting Miranda. She wondered how much uncovering her past would do harm, but with Miranda being a fresh face as long as Tryansa kept her head low it should’ve been serviceable enough. If they needed to operate in league with the old man or any of his old cohorts they’d have to do it through Miranda while Tryansa kept quiet and discreet. Tryansa was good at discreet. She could do that. 

It didn’t take long for her to dig through her quarters for her extra gear. A spare hold-out pistol, some grenades and other utilities. Her credit chit. She knew she had [i]just[/i] enough credits to keep her ship in the “spaceport” unmolested by scavengers and crooks. It was better than landing the ship in the middle of nowhere and hoping for the best. For the time being, anyway.

She straightened her synthetic jacket as she moved a stand of hair from her face, before moving toward the docking bay… or what made for a docking bay. As Miranda likely shuffled through her own things she leaned against the walls of the ship, arms crossed as she waited for them to get started.