Dervish — Roleplayer Guild

It was an exercise not unlike going through the discount bin in some shaddy back alley hardware store and trying to scrape together something functional. Tanya had several crates cracked open full of discarded parts and gear that the team had gone through collectively and decided to put away as back-ups in case their new, much better equipment failed.

Tanya was beginning to feel like Nova had a serious hording problem.

Three separate omni-tools lay spread across the workbench as she laboured to cannibalize the parts into one decent one that could handle the vast amount of data and tech she normally worked with. Having destroyed her omni-tool on Luek’s yacht, the engineer was starting to have a real sense of what it was like having phantom limb syndrome. The omni-tool had become such a regular part of her life, she found herself trying to use it constantly since it shattered and coming back surprised every time. The worst of all was when she had to hack her way into her own quarters to get out of the tattered dress after returning to Tyrus. It likely wasn’t a sight she was going to live down for quite some time, a sea-salt encrusted late twenty-something woman enduring the occasional electric shock with a torrent of constant cursing until the hologram over the door switched to green.

As much as she wanted to complain, the truth of the matter was she rather enjoyed this kind of work. It gave her focus, and taking garbage and making it functional again was something she wished she could do with her own life. It was much easier to figure out how to Frankenstein an omni-tool rig that could bypass security protocols and fabricate combat drones from spare parts than it was to figure out how to make the nightmares that plagued her most nights stop. At least here, in her workshop, she could keep people at bay with her music, in this case the rather unappealing sound of krogan attempting to mimic human-style metal. The results were hilarious, if oddly endearing. It was likely enough to buy her some privacy.

While attempting to power up her latest attempt, the omni-tool glowing a steady warm orange glow, she ran through the diagnostics on a terminal, only half paying attention to the readout. She wasn’t really sure what to make of that Mark character other than she was having a hard enough time adapting to the people Nova already had employed, let alone taking on some old thug with a smug attitude. She knew that Nova needed new members, especially since both Tillus and Jeanna had tendered their resignations sometime while the rest of the team was doing the mission on Kahje. If Nova was going to make a name for itself, it would need enough manpower to do the jobs. The problem was, with the layout of the Tyrus as it was; there wasn’t much room for expansion. Even now, temporary accommodations for Mark were being laid out across the cargo bay. Nova had to grow, but it didn’t mean she had to like it.

Still, her spirits were uncharacteristically high. The team pulled off one hell of a feat, that much was sure, and Tanya prided herself on her own role in the heist. There was a good chance that if anyone else was in her position, Nova would have gone home empty handed. Now, Kosso presumably was able to scour the treasure trove of information they acquired and would be able to set up some better jobs in the future. One could hope. A part of her still felt resentful towards the drell for what he attempted, but a growing part of her was coming to admire Kosso and trust in his judgement. The hard truth of it all was the two of them worked well together and were well on the way to forming an emotional bond approaching on friendship, which was something that Tanya never realized she was sorely missing. The fact Kosso was the only person on the team who bothered to visit when she was tied up in the infirmary endeared him considerably to her.

Beep beep

Her attention turned back to the omni-tool, which declared a state of readiness according to the diagnostics. “About time.” Tanya said triumphantly, aiming the tool towards a crate and activating an energy drain charge. Suddenly, the omni-tool began to glow bright white and become uncomfortably hot before a loud crack filled the air.
“Oh, you piece of-” she began, tearing the worthless piece of scrap from her arm and tossing it into a scrap bin, but not before the energy drain charge dissipated, striking her torso with a low yield, unfocused blast of energy.

When the pain subsided enough for her to move again, the engineer grabbed a bottle of whiskey from under her work bench and drank straight from the bottle until the burning caused her to gag, covering her mouth with her scorched forearm. Her eyes wandered to the clock on her music player.

45 minutes until ETA with the distress beacon.

With another hearty chug and a change of music, she pulled several more pieces of shit from the “Used” bin and set back to work.

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