Zane Corvus

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

So, the gist of it was, the crew was planning on hitting a casino in the middle of space. They needed several ways and means to make sure the job went as smoothly as it could. As far as Zane was concerned, his role in the job was going to be more behind-the-scenes than anything. They needed him to break into some big Imperial officer’s hotel room and “relieve” him of his credentials and whatever else the kid could get his hands on. That was all well and good, but Zane was sure that they would need time to put everything together. It was looking like they’d just picked up another hand for the casino side of things. From the way Fel was talking, he was sure to be a handful. Shortly after, the crew was skedaddling off-world again. Apparently, Fel and the new guy’s exit wasn’t exactly quiet. Time to lay low for a bit, he guessed.

With all of Nar’Shaddaa now behind them, Zane could actually take some time to settle into the Unfair Advantage. He’d managed to get his room squared away, finally. It took some time - Fel had apparently decided that this place was pretty much extra storage for any and everything he didn’t want to deal with at the time. Zane did what he knew best, though; sorted through everything and organized it. Void knows he knew how to apply his scrapper background, at the very least. Once the kid had sifted through most everything and packed it away in the dozen or so crates he’d found, he moved the lot of them into the cargo bay and machine bay as was needed. Some things were definitely within the technical purview more than anything else, while others were just extra supplies or junk that needed to be stowed away. Any items that looked like personal effects, the kid stacked over near the door to Fel’s room. Hopefully he wasn’t overstepping - just wanted to make things as livable as possible and make sure the items got back to their rightful owner.

As everything there appeared to be in order, Zane made his way back to his room to start making it completely livable again. Did some cleaning, hung up the clothes that Jet had given him, and even took out a new outfit that would get him out of that single technician’s jumpsuit he had been working with. Settled for a light grey sweater that had dark shoulder pads and some beige cargo pants. The kid had to use a belt, though. He still wasn’t quite the right size to fill them out properly. He pulled up the left sleeve on his sweater so he could equip the newfound tooldeck, and retrieved the “Eye” so he could sit down for a bit and try to familiarize himself with however this “F.E.T.C.H.” thing worked.

From what he could tell, the deck itself was pretty flashy - Jet’s apprentice must have had quite a fiery personality. There were several bits of paint that accented the whole thing; bright colors and patterns that swirled across the plating. She had even gone and labeled what each tool slot was - everything from the hydrospanner to the multi-ratchets, even a miniaturized soldering iron. If Zane could make this work for him, it just might allow him to be a lot more efficient when it came to helping the crew.

Activating the “Eye” was a simple enough task. There was a small button just along the brow-ridge of the device. Once Zane had turned it on, the display began to boot up. There was a lot of software coding that zoomed through, the kid barely managed to register a few letters of Aurebesh before it had completed its task. And then, once that was done, the display began identifying the area, getting everything from measurements to distances, gaining full spatial awareness. But what happened next was something that Zane would have never expected.

The display suddenly lit up with text that seemed to show itself on the far wall of the room. ”Hey! What’s going on? Wait–who are you? You’re not Nova!’

Zane shook his head, wondering who in the Void he was even conversing with. Suddenly, a very small, agitated-looking little virtual bot with four legs and two cutesy little hands and arms came zooming onto the screen; yet, it settled itself on the windowsill of Zane’s minuscule viewport very near to the floating text that displayed on the wall. This device must operate with augmented reality, the kid surmised. The tiny machine was gold-colored, with little accents of red on its feet and hands. It seemed to let out a weird set of beeps and whistles when it was attempting to communicate, which seemed to translate into the text that Zane was reading on the wall.

”Talk, human! Tell me what you did with my Nova!”

Zane blinked reactively, completely caught off guard by the tiny little bot with a small square face that held a display with two beady little eyes; eyes that looked quite sternly back at him.

”Uhhh…I’m really sorry, bud. I don’t know the whole story, but it seems like Nova left a lot of things behind when she left Nar’Shaddaa. I dunno why she didn’t take you.”

The bot seemed to be processing what was being said as Zane spoke. Its little dots for eyes seemed to stretch upward in surprise when it heard of Nova’s departure, and then, it almost looked sad as it deflated a bit, sprawling its tiny legs outward. But then, just as suddenly it sprang back up, looking just as agitated as before.

”Yeah, right! Nova wouldn’t leave me behind! You’re lying, human!

Zane quickly responded, ”No, I’m not, unfortunately. Jet found you among some of her things that she left and–”

”Liar! Liar! You’re nothing but a LIAR!” The little bot was quite upset, it seemed, as it beeped and blurted and sputtered while the text displayed its actual communications. And then, unbeknownst to Zane, the little bot used the scanning software to look deep into Zane’s eye. There was no deception present. His eyes weren’t dilating the way that humans tended to do when they would lie. Could it really be? Had Nova left it behind? Its golden eyes seemed to blink as it processed this information.

Zane, however, was already trying to defend himself again. ”What? N-No, really! I wouldn’t lie about something like this! Nova really is–”

”--Gone.” The bot became deflated again. It sank down onto its “haunches” as it tried to process what was going on.

”Yeah…I’m sorry, bud. I’m sure she never would have left you there without a reason. Maybe it was dangerous where she was going? Or, maybe having a tooldeck would have given her away if the Empire was looking too closely?” The kid was already knee-deep in conspiracy theories. He’d almost forgotten why he’d started out doing this. Shaking his head, he formulated his thoughts so he could try and get this little device to work with him. ”Look, either way, she’s not with us anymore. But, when she comes back around, I’ll make sure you get back to her, safe and sound. Is that all right with you?”

The bot seemed to be thinking quite deeply. It was processing a multitude of factors that might have suggested why Nova couldn’t have brought it along with her. This human might have even had a point or two, simple as they were. Once it had finally finished thinking, the bot seemed to perk back up again at the thought of being reunited with Nova one day. It looked up at Zane with expectant eyes, letting out another series of tweets and twiddles as the text sprawled across the wall, ”Ok, human! If you think you can get me back to Nova one day, then I’m good with that! What do I call you?”

”Zane. You can call me Zane. And what about you?”

”The name’s FETCH!” The little bot said proudly, twirling around on the windowsill, ”Nova built me from the ground up! I’m meant to assist her by operating that tooldeck on your arm!”

Zane brought his arm back up to look at the deck. The eyelet’s software seemed to be outlining it in golden lines and brackets for a moment before disappearing. The bot suddenly appeared on the deck’s surface, looking up at him.

”Are you going to be the one using me until I go back with Nova?” A little text-bubble appeared over its head where Zane could read it.

”I mean…if that’s okay with you, then yes. I’d really appreciate whatever help you could offer!” Zane said excitedly.

The little bot suddenly had happy little eyes as it rocked back and forth. Hopefully, Zane thought, that was good body language.

”Of course, Zane! No worries! I can help with just about anything tech-related! Nova programmed me with technician’s software so I could assist her when she was working on stuff! I’ve got specs on just about anything!”

Zane breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he’d finally gotten FETCH on his side. ”That’s good. I’ve got a lot of datapads and stuff that Jet gave me, too. Even got a book on actual flimsi about blaster basics.”

The little bot hopped up and down in its little augmented reality state on top of Zane’s new tooldeck, ”That’s great news! Are you just starting out with all of this? Seems like you are trying to learn a lot!”

Zane looked at the bot a little sheepishly, ”Y-Yeah…I have some basic knowledge of how to work with tools and stuff, but I’m lacking quite a bit when it comes to bein’ technical.”

The little bot spun around on the gauntlet, ”That’s totally okay! It’s always best to start somewhere and build yourself up! Would you like for me to walk you through what I can do and how to use your tooldeck?”

”Not gonna lie, that would be so wizard. I appreciate it, FETCH.”

Zane continued to spend some time working with the deck and familiarizing himself with its functions. Nova had quite the impressive setup with it. Simply asking FETCH for a tool it contained brought him over to the appropriate slot which would pop open and allow access to the tool. If there was anything that wasn’t directly in the tool slots, FETCH would use the mechanisms in the gauntlet to switch the tools out from the small bay that was beneath the main deck. It didn’t have everything, but the tools that it did have were impressive and well taken care of. From what Zane could tell, the tools were sure necessities that could be used in quick fashion thanks to the deck.

Once Zane had fully worked out how the tooldeck worked and which tools he had at his disposal, the next thing would be for him to do a trial run. And so, it was time for him to take a much closer look at his newly-acquired E-33. That would be his first real project.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

The kid had stepped off the boat with Jet, a seasoned spacer who knew one heckuva lot more than Zane did about the Smuggler’s Moon. So, as with just about anything that didn’t have to do with Lotho Minor or any of its surrounding celestial bodies, the youth gave deference to the experienced. Jet had pretty much laid down ‘the law’ (if there was any to be told of) regarding the Red Light District.

Jet adjusted the strap across his chest, the faint clink of tools, weapons, or otherwise useful gear shifting at his side as he kept a steady pace beside Zane.

“Alright.. So we’re making our way through Nar’s Red Light, its own ‘warm welcome.’ You’ll get dealers pushin’ spice, dancers pushin’ dreams, and half the other folks pushing their luck.” He glanced ahead, scanning the ever shifting sea of bodies as the glow of signs bled through the smog. “Don’t make eye contact unless you’re buying, don’t flash creds you ain’t ready to lose, and don’t follow anyone toting anything that seems too good to be true” He paused, “Because it is.”

Jet’s tongue ran the inside of his cheek, sparing a glance sideways without breaking his stride, “If anyone separates us, shout out, loud.”

And like any good teenager worth his salt, Zane wasn’t listening to a bit of it.

He was far too enthralled with the idea of setting foot on a new planet. He never stepped off the ship onto Abilene’s soil; never saw the open skies that weren’t threatening to kill him at every turn, never got to breathe the good, clean air of a place that wasn’t an acrid cesspool. With this being only his second time to finally explore a planet, his eyes were wide with wonder and his ears were closed to anything that wasn’t the din of the Smuggler’s Moon.

It just so happened that they were approaching the very area that Jet was trying to warn him about. Zane stared straight ahead, noting that the streets (and wow, there were actual streets!) were becoming a bit more narrow, and there were a few people standing near the corners of the nearby buildings that – well, they weren’t exactly dressed too warmly. Save for a light jacket, the women were wearing hardly anything. Neither were the males, with the exception of a few of them. One such fellow - a red-skinned Devaronian, by the looks of him - came sauntering forward from one of the corners, dressed in what passed for a classy suit, a wild-looking fur coat, and a wide-brimmed hat that had holes cut out of the front so his horns could stick through. He had a few shiny necklaces made of what appeared to be aurodium and platinum, although they were actually some slightly-convincing knock-offs, and toting an aurodium-tipped cane with a knobbed head that looked like some sort of sea creature.

Giving the cane a quick flourish as he stepped in the way of Zane, the Devaronian pointed the cane at him just as Zane stepped into the tip. The kid winced, his brow furrowing, just about to object to the rough treatment as the Devaronian spoke in his gravelly, low tone.

“Hey…you sure you’re old enough to even be here, kid?” He said with a half-grin, reaching down to lewdly grab his crotch to emphasize his next statement, “Barely look like your gobbies have shifted…”

Zane’s head cocked as he rubbed the spot the being had poked him in, ”Old enough for what, sleemo? It’s a public street, ain’t it?”

The horned creature’s grin faded, apparently not taking too kindly to Zane’s objection, “You’ve got a smart mouth, ‘Junior’ – you tellin’ me you don’t know where you’re walkin’? This is Pleasure Point, princess! But you gotta be a grown-up if you wanna stay on this playground…”

Zane’s confused gaze went from the Devaronian over to Jet, hoping he could fill him in on what the “sleemo” was referring to. The horn-head looked over to Jet also, sizing him up with a wary eye.

Jet had seen it all before, more times than he cared to count. The flash of faux-aurodium, the puffed-up ego, the fake fur coat that reeked more of desperation than decadence. He could smell the hustle from meters away, kriff, he basically knew the script well enough to write it himself. But he wasn’t here for theatrics, or tricks of any other kind, and he sure as hell wasn’t here to lose the kid five steps into Nar.

He stepped up behind Zane, steady and unhurried. When the Devaronai glanced his way, just a flick of the eye, Jet didn’t give him the luxury to look away. He didn’t posture, or flex, but simply stood there, broad and scarred, gaze leveled with the kind of deadpan calm that spoke louder.

His voice followed, slow and even. “He’s old enough to decide where he walks.” A pause, barely a breath. “But you shove that stick at him again and I’ll break it off at the wrist.”

There was no heat in it, no barking threat, just a straightforward honest statement of intent. He let it hang in the air long enough to see the flicker of uncertainty crawl across the horny bastard's face. That wary sizing-up from earlier, yeah, he’d seen that look a thousand times over. The predator unsure if the prey was bigger than itself, and whether the risk was worth taking.

He didn’t need the guy to run, didn’t even need an apology, just to turn tail and leave. And when he did, swaggering as he made his way back to his back alley post, he spared Zane a sidelong glance, just for a moment. He let a few steps pass in silence before speaking.

“Eyes up next time, kid. Nar’ don’t care if you’re green nor grinnin’, it’ll chew through either just the same.” He looked back, not unkind but sharp. “You keep walkin’ like that, someone’ll make you pay for it.” A smile crept across Jet’s face, it would have looked ugly had he not started laughing belly first. “Least you didn’t punch him. That would’ve been my mess to clean up!”

The kid flashed a nervous smile back at Jet as they continued walking through the district. Trying not to let his eyes wander too much, Zane finally understood why this district was meant for “grown-ups” - every window seemed to have either flesh being peddled or some other sort of vice. A rather scantily-clad Rodian gave him a wink of her rather large eyes, cat-calling after him, “Ever had a blowjob from a Rodian before, big boy? It’s wild!”

Zane’s eyes sprung wide open at her not-so-subtle statement. ”Uh…nope, sure haven’t.” He stutter-stepped to catch himself back up with the master technician, their gaits practically the same, and yet, Jet’s was far more confident and assertive. The kid was able to see it in his walk, and the look on his face - Jet seemed to be on a mission. All Zane could do was grab the strap of his E-11 and hope that he’d have no occasion to use it.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

Dry foodstuffs - at least a month’s worth, if they did proper rationing.

Spare parts - a wide array; he’ll likely need to see about organizing those.

More spare parts - some of these didn’t look like they’d get more than a few creds at a swap meet.

Knick-knacks - Looks like memorabilia; maybe stuff that they didn’t wanna look at, but couldn’t get rid of.

A locked crate - Not messing with that.

Buncha clothes - Looks like…disguises, maybe?

Wow…spare hyperfuel - Oh wait. Just empty canisters. Wonder when these are getting refilled?

Med supplies - the stuff Zane swiped on Lotho, and some older stuff that the kid found in there.

Annnnd, the crate of spare weapons - stun batons, case of concussion grenades, a few E-11s. Looks like maybe a few more things?

Wait…what the kriff was that noise? The crash outside broke him out of his rhythm. He started walking across the metal grating of the port-side cargo bay, his slightly-oversized boots clanking on the metal, making his way to the door. He reached his hand up to open it - locked. The kark? Pressed the button again - still nothing. What was that frackin’ override again? He tried a combination; nope. Tried another one; still no dice. The trill of the keypad was actually starting to get a bit annoying, if he was being honest. Did he really forget the karkin’ password? No way.

”Seriously?! Wait, no. It was…kriff me, I can’t remember!”

He took a deep breath, exhaling frustratedly as he tried three more combinations. The denial tone was taunting him now. Throwing all caution to the wind, he reached into his appropriated tech belt, grabbing out the slicer kit. He could hear muffled voices outside - Wrench was there, and it sounded like…a female’s voice? Not Aellyn’s though. Not the right timbre. Why the kriff was this door even locked?! The kid was really starting to get annoyed now. Popping the cover with the small tech tool, he looked at the mess of circuitry and wiring within.

”Who even kriffin’ wired this thing?!”

No sense in yappin’ about it. Time to work.

Zane continued to draw the wiring out of the panel, eventually pulling the excess all out and letting it fall toward the floor. It almost reached the grating. Finally seeing the zeta plugs on the circuitry, he began using his set of tools to start the bypass.

First try, kriffin’ thing shorted.

Sparks flew, and Zane was startled, flinching like he’d just been shocked. He hadn’t, but the shock to his system felt real enough.

”Frack my life.”

Zane spent the better part of the next two and a half hours trying to restore power to the small panel. When it sprung back to life, he was actually as excited as he would have been if he’d actually opened the door. And then, it hit him.

The sudden need to pee.

It wasn’t a small sensation, either. It had sprung up on him quicker than a gundark tackling a nuna in the fields. The kid cursed his luck, and actually started to look around the bay to see if he had any alternate options. He could only imagine how upset Fel would be if he had to pee in a corner or something. Well, so long as he didn’t think about waterfalls or running faucets - kark, he just did.

Another hour passed, and the young scrapper was now streaming beads of sweat down his forehead. The stress was real. He had tried thirteen different circuit combinations, splicing twelve sets of wires, and stang-near overloading the ionic capacitor - nothing was working. His need to urinate had become a biological imperative at this point. His breath was coming out in ragged huffs, and he was wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve, which was fairly drenched now.

A small whimper escaped his lips as he came down to the last few circuit combinations. The panel’s interior was covered in scorch marks and slightly-melted wiring covers, to say nothing of the ton and a half wires that were strewn out and pinned up along the bulkhead beams. It looked like a bunch of ooglaks had gotten into the cargo bay - maybe that’s who Zane could blame all of this on. Yup. We picked up a bunch of ooglaks on Abilene. They’re all gone now though. The kid had vaporized them. He yelled at them, “How dare you mess up Cap’n Fel’s ship like that?” and poof - pink mist.

Another short. Wait…the door slid open.

”Kriff yes!!!"

The kid shouted so loud that the nearby bulkheads sang like they had been struck. Standing up, he darted out of the hold, not caring if anyone was standing nearby. Boots hit the floor panels like a stampede of Banthas running across the dunes as he shot into the nearby ‘fresher.

And then, finally…relief.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

The blood that had been rushing up into his eardrums, making his head pound each time he felt his heart thrumming inside his chest like a piledriver, had finally receded back through his veins following the “altercation” that had taken place outside. He barely remembered Aellyn’s hand on his shoulder as she passed him by on her way into the ship, but it was enough of a jolt to remind him to breathe and finally release the tension in his arms that held the E-11. The walk back inside the ship hardly even registered in his mind. He found himself sitting back at the dejarik table, sliding the rifle across its scratched surface, before nearly collapsing in a slump in the middle of the bench seat.

He replayed the firefight outside in his head a dozen times over in a few short seconds. The young scrapper had no real tactical understanding of anything, just a good memory. Several of Abilene’s “citizens”, all spread out across the dusty, cracked surface of her little world, all of them just waiting to put Fel and the rest of the crew into an early grave. The kid didn’t even take a single shot the entire time, just held his position at the top of the ramp and made sure no one else made it inside until the ceasefire occurred. Zane reasoned that he would want to get more comfortable with the rifle if he was expected to be of any use in a firefight again.

Now that the adrenaline in his system was leaving him, he began to feel the weight of everything in his body. He was tired. Too tired. He needed to find a place to hole up and try to get some rest. Turning in the bench seat toward the galley floor, he slid off to make himself stand, and suddenly felt his legs turn into lead. He shuffled across the deck, looking about the ship to try and locate a place where he could bed down. Turning to the right toward the cockpit, he started to head towards the one starboard cabin when he began to hear the shouting match going on in the other room. Ducking back behind the galley wall, he tried to wait out the awkward and heated conversation, unable to keep himself from eavesdropping.

Their banter was anything but friendly. Apparently, Aellyn had gone off and used the holonet to contact that ship that had shown up in the nick of time; and Fel wasn’t too keen on it. True, if the Imperials were fishing the holonet looking for any leads about their stolen cargo, it would be all too easy for them to skim info about the U.A. when those keywords popped up. But the lady was supposed to be some kind of tech guru, wasn’t she? One of the ones working for the Imps at some point, too, from what Zane could glean. So what was it that Fel was worried about? That the Imps would be smarter than her, and root them out? It would likely be for the best that they laid low for the time being, but the kid was actually going to ask her if she had the means to get a message back to Lotho – to Marcus. It was a long shot, sure, but he wasn’t about to give up on the idea of getting his brother to safety and a better life. Not now, not ever.

Zane was lost in the moment when he realized that the two of them had finished their discourse. He heard the expletives that Aellyn yelled at him before hitting the switch to slide her door shut as angrily as possible. When Fel crossed his vision, he stood there at the end of the galley, frozen with his eyes open wide like an idiot, and began stammering as he tried to find somewhere to put his hands.

”U-u-u-uhhhh, h-hey…you…” He said, trying to sound emphatic and as if he was just able to find the man, ”So, uhm…I was wonderin’...whe-where can a guy bed down at in this joint–I mean, this fantastic, uh, ship o’ yours? Whaaat? No! I didn’t hear anything, what the kriff are you talkin’ about? No way…” He let his voice trail off as he looked away from Fel, finally settling on folding his arms in front of him uneasily; his right foot rolling back and forth on its heel, the toe of his boot pointed upward.

Fel considered just continuing on, toward the bridge, toward his safe place. Where he could let all of that go. Where he felt most at home, and where nothing, or nobody, could touch him. But there was Zane. Poor kid’s head was about to split open from everything he’d experienced in the past couple days. Fel stopped, mid-stride, and exhaled, turning toward the young man. His mouth opened, as if contemplating a course of action, and changing mid-breath. He swallowed whatever it might have been, and spoke softly, as if he’d actually given it some thought. (he had.) ”Ship’s got an empty bunk, starboard side… but it ain’t made up, not even sure it’s got a proper mattress… mostly been used as a medbay last several months. I’ll get it squared away for you soon enough.” He thought a moment, brightening a little. “Best sleep I ever got, early in my time out in the Black, was in a hammock in the cargo hold on my first tramp freighter flight. Might be a good idea for you, too. Get you over your first voyage. Might decide you like it alright, too.” He frowned, mouth curling into a sour distasteful line. “But I ain’t got that rigged up, neither… How ‘bout you bed down in my bunk, kid? ‘Least for the night, till we can get you fixed up. I’m not going to be doing much sleepin’ tonight anyhow…” he pointed toward the open cabin door, the centre of the door scraped of most of its once vibrant orange paint, as if some mechanical part of the mechanism had failed and rubbed the door raw. Fact was, the whole ship was a little threadbare. Maybe Aellyn was right. Maybe it was a bit of a scow. “Make yerself at home, kid. What’s mine is yours.” Fel clapped Zane on the shoulder, and hobbled into the flight deck…

Zane’s eyes followed Fel’s gesturing hand as he indicated the cabin, and nodded succinctly, ”Uhh, yeah! Okay.” He turned back toward Fel with a sheepish grin, ”I’ll just, uh…head that way now.” With the spacer already moving toward the cockpit area, Zane realized he was talking to the man’s back, and thus decided to press onward. Approaching the door, he looked at the small panel next to it, noting the worn letters in Aurebesh that said “OPEN” and “CLOSE”. Depressing the switch, the door hesitated for a moment before slowly pressurizing the hydraulic mechanisms and hissing their way open. He then made his way inside, looking around at the captain’s chosen quarters with a bit of bewilderment. It wasn’t especially tidy, but the kid was used to that level of mess and far worse.

Removing his tool belt and pulling it off of him, he rebuckled it and hung it from the corner of the bunk along with the E-11 on its sling. Noticing that the lower bunk was a little disheveled and lived-in, he decided that the top bunk was likely the best option for him. After climbing into it, he rolled his tired body onto its padded surface. It was the first real bed he’d laid in for years. Back on Lotho Minor, all he had was a pallet in the corner of their ramshackle compartment, which he shared with Marcus so he could keep an eye on him. Thinking of his kid brother saddened him quite a bit, so he did his best to remind himself of why he was doing this before allowing his body to finally relax. The bunk may not have been the most comfortable thing in the ‘verse, but it was a far cry from the rough metal floor of his old home. And it smelled exceptionally better, too.

After several minutes of staring at the close ceiling of the captain’s cabin, he found that his body felt very heavy, all the way up to his eyelids. Within moments, he was out, dreaming of the possibilities that could present themselves now that he was on this whole new adventure.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

Moving back within the Unfair Advantage and past Aellyn and the doc, Zane eyed the crate of kolto going out with indifference. After all, Fel had agreed that this crate was supposed to be hers; so by all rights, she was just taking her due. Shrugging to himself, he continued to move further into the ship toward the refresher that Fel had told him about. Easing through the door, he searched around for a few to find the kit that the pilot had referred him to, opening it up to find bacta patches. These looked a lot fresher than anything he'd ever laid eyes on, and the kid didn't really know if he should be wasting them on his scrawny hide. Still, to look a gift bantha in the mouth wasn't just rude, it was also stupid. Those things smelled.

Removing his shirt, Zane looked over his body to the many different sores. He tried to figure out which ones were the worst, and which ones could likely just use some disinfectant and then be allowed to carry on and heal. After giving himself a sort of "triage", he opened the bacta patches one by one, the sickly-sweet scent of it beginning to fill the room as he started dressing his wounds. He only used a few of them, choosing to use the small can of disinfectant spray on several of the smaller ones before slapping a simple bandage over them and moving on. Taking a deep breath, he slid his shirt back over him and tucked it back into his jumpers before heading back out of the refresher.

The sounds coming from outside were a mixture of high winds, shifting sands and dirt, and something else he could barely make out. Sounded like machines of some sort. Zane made a quick effort to get back to his bags where he'd left the former soldier's E-11 rifle, also seeking to arm himself with one of the stun sticks he'd found in the shuttle they raided. Once everything was on his person, he said a little prayer to whatever floating noodle monsters might be listening, and then made his way back toward the ramp, choosing to hunker down just beyond the top of it. Whatever was coming, he needed to make sure he was ready for it.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

For all the twinkling lights and the hum of the machines, Zane barely understood what it was that Jet was really up to there in the so-called “power plant”. He’d heard it explained that it was - quite literally - the beating heart of the ship. Everything from the engines to the hyperdrive and shields were controlled from there, along with life-support for anyone who traveled within the vessel itself. So when Jet had explained that it was best that Zane didn’t touch anything, his survivalistic instincts kicked in and he did well to remain as far away from anything that looked like a button or a switch; at least until he could better understand what was going on in there.

Once Jet had finished up his checklists and made the proper adjustments he needed, the youth watched the seasoned spacer make his way to the fore of the vessel, following him for a bit before pausing at one of the cargo holds where he’d stashed the loot he’d scrounged up from the shuttle. Not bothering to say anything to Jet about breaking off from him, he slid into the compartment and began going through the bags and cases to better organize their contents. He began opening the containers and retrieving their contents, laying them out on the bay floor in a few well-organized rows. For all the ways that he could be a screw-up as a Junker, the one thing he knew to do and do well was organize the loot.

There were four medkits with a standard complement of bacta patches, antidote cocktail injectors, revitalizer diodes, bactafoam woundkits, and handheld medical scanners. They looked far newer than anything the kid had ever come across before, and in much better condition. The two cases he’d managed to stow in the medical duffels were your typical technicians kits. Those came with several tools that he couldn’t really identify, and more than a few that he could. The hydrospanners alone were likely worth a few hundred creds. There were a ton of spare parts as well, likely to be used in case of an emergency. Top all of that off with the technician’s datapads and several stun batons and gas grenades he managed to snag off of the shuttle’s riot rack on the way out, and it wasn’t a bad haul.

With everything laid out in front of him, Zane rested back on his haunches, staring down at the array before him. Obviously, the stun batons would come in handy. He’d probably keep one of those, if it could be spared. Anything else would likely need to be assessed by the crew to determine their best uses. Zane could respect that. He barely knew what half of it really was, anyway. And anything that had an Imperial insignia on it likely had some means of being traced, or at the very least, recognized by someone out there. They’d have to be careful not to give anyone the chance to come looking for them. Luckily, Zane and most of the people on Lotho Minor had never been on the Empire’s radar before. Concepts like “ident codes” didn’t apply to them. Zane had never even seen the inside of an Imperial anything until Fel and his bunch had “conscripted” him into their grand scheme.

At least, for now, he didn’t have to worry about anyone finding out about Marcus and Parlo. Even if the people there cared little for his existence, Junkers didn’t sell out their own. They handled their problems from within. But Zane needed to figure out a way to help his family. If this whole thing with Fel was able to assist him with that, then he’d do whatever it took to make that happen. He only hoped that Marcus would be able to understand why he had to do it all, someday.

Once he had finished going through all of the parts and equipment he had “procured”, Zane began to put everything away as neatly as he knew how to. Best not to leave everything strewn out all over the cargo area, for sure. When he was finished, he placed the duffels and technician’s cases over near the wall and began to make his way back toward the common area. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be long before he heard from the captain about what was to come.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

Hearing the crew talk about the heist and the possible breakdown of the score was a little bit over the young man’s head. Although, considering everything he’d had to go through in order for them to come through on that haul, he sort of hoped that they’d be trying to consider his part in the whole ordeal. When it seemed like the air was clear for a moment, Zane stopped staring down into his bowl of chili and dared to speak up.

”Uh, not that I’m trying to pull at straws or anythin’, but…we all sorta put our necks on the line out there, right? I understand it was the Doc’s info that got us the score, and I’m not sayin’ it weren’t good enough to make sure he’s gettin’ his share, but me and Fel hauled choobs outta the cargo bay hangin’ by a thread - don’t that count for nothin’?”

His Basic was horrible, but his point still stood. Intel was one thing - and probably one of the more important things amongst all the others - but if it weren’t for the Captain and himself, none of that cargo would have made its way onto the boat. Sure, Jet probably could have made a better hand at nabbing the stuff, but that wasn’t the only contribution that Zane had made today.

”Not to mention, after literally fallin’ into this whole sitch, I ended up puttin’ somebody in the ground today - or whatever it is that Imps do with their dead, I dunno. Somebody that coulda done the same to our lovely cap’n here. It was–” He paused for a moment, unsure if he could even finish the sentence, “-It was the first time I’ve ever had to do that. Sure, I’ve put a few hundred volts of electricity through a guy or throttled ‘em a time or two, but…I’ve never done…that before…”

“Like I told you on the shuttle and the cargo hold. You will be alright but it won’t get easier from here…” Aellyn stood from the table, took a peek into the pot of chili. “Nah, not eating that. Doc, if you are done eating, we have some plans to take care of.” She turned toward the table, her attention on the med tech. The Doc finished and they both headed toward her cabin, the door sliding closed.

Fel chewed and swallowed the bite of food he was working on, tearing off a bit more bread, watching Aellyn go. Maybe next time, she would teach him a thing or two in the galley. (Not bloody likely.) There weren’t no gourmet meals out here in the Black. Least, not on this ‘luxury yacht.’ The kid weren’t wrong, but he lacked a basic understanding of how it was going to work.

”Everybody gets a share, Zane. Any coin that comes our way, gets split ‘tween us all. That’s after a chunk goes to the ship for fuel, food and repairs.” He continued, chewing a bit more bread, his tone conversational, friendly. “Thing is, sometimes that chunk for the ship is bigger, if we need to make big repairs. And sometimes if someone played a major role in making sure we got paid, that person owns a bigger share. Putting asses on the line isn’t necessarily criteria to get a bigger share. I expect that from everybody. Otherwise, we all get the same. Making sure we get paid, can take on a lot of shapes. Like — if I gave you a crate of kolto, who’d you be talking to, to fence it? Who’d be giving you the coin for it that it deserves? Can’t just roll up on that gang of Lotho toughs that were on you for blood, and squeeze C100,000 out of their Buster Browns… sometimes you gotta have the contacts out here, and that deserves a share, too.” There ends the lesson. Hopefully that shone a light on some of the intricate dealings out here. 2+2 didn’t always =4.

Zane’s eyes lowered back to his bowl of chili, unsure if anything he’d even said could be taken seriously by the rest of them. Still, ‘a strill with its mouth closed never got fed’ – or so that saying goes. Speaking of ‘getting fed’, the boy decided that he’d held himself back long enough. Taking one of the eating utensils on the table in his hand awkwardly, he began to shovel it into the bowl and pull a bite of the chili up to his mouth. The meat and sauce dripped from the sides of the spoon back into the bowl below, and steam rose from the food itself. This would likely be the first time he’d been able to eat warm food in months. Sliding the bite into his mouth, he felt his eyes roll back in his head as his tongue savored the flavors there – all of them a hundred times more exquisite than anything he’d tasted in quite a while. It might have been simple fare to the others who sat at the table, but to him it was more of a feast. He knew that he hadn’t had anything to eat in a few days, so he would need to pace himself if he was going to make it through the meal without it coming back to visit him. But he couldn’t help but eat a few extra bites in quick fashion right then, even if it was going to cost him later.

What Fel had told him was also weighing on his mind. It was true, he didn’t really have any idea of how this whole heist thing worked. He’d gone with Parlo a few times in the past and gotten to see how deals worked between Junkers and the few crews who actually bought their salvage off of them before, but other than that, he knew very little about how the rest of the galaxy actually worked, from an adult perspective. Fel was likely right - there were several factors that likely went into determining the worth of someone in a crew like this. Your merits alone may not be enough to get you a sizable cut. Some things required connections. You had to know people - the right people. Zane figured that Fel was one of those people he might want to know - at least for now. As he thoughtfully chewed on the protein in the chili he was savoring, he let that idea float around in his mind for a while, glancing furtively at the grizzled, mature spacer. He’d be watching him closely, making sure to soak up everything like a sponge, until he became knowledgeable and indispensable to the whole crew.

That way, when the time came for a decent share, he’d have the kind of leverage he needed to make that happen.

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

The weight of everything had kept Zane pretty much adhered to this singular spot; curled up in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees next to a bulkhead beam in the cargo bay. The entire day was replaying over and over in his head. He'd killed a man for someone he never even knew, assisted in a heist against an Imperial ship, left his brother behind on that gods-forsaken planet - all in the span of a few hours. And now, he was on a ship barreling through hyperspace to some other system that was likely lightyears away from the only family he still had. The youth held onto the sleeves of his stolen Imperial engineer's uniform with a white-knuckled grip, unable to do anything but sit there and think. To anyone else, it must have looked like he was frozen in shock or fear; but in reality, he was trying desperately to come to terms with everything that had taken place and doing his best to formulate some sort of strategy to press forward.

When Aellyn had walked in, her boots thudding against the grates of the cargo bay floor, he was broken from his thoughts as he listened to her words. Her words of praise nearly rang hollow - Zane didn't feel like he had done anything worth the accolade. Still, there was something in her affirmation that rang true. He had to move forward. It was likely the only thing left to do at this point. Picking his head up, he looked to her and managed to mutter out a single word, "Thanks..."

It was the first word he'd spoken since yelling at the walls of the cargo bay before. His voice was dry, and his lungs felt as though they were aching and burning from breathing the recycled air; as though they were being disinfected from the decade of breathing the harsh air of Lotho Minor. As a matter of fact, his entire body suddenly began feeling the effects of having done so much over the span of the day - running from Dorbek's "gang", pulling the heist...after all of that, the adrenaline of it all was finally wearing off. Pulling himself up, he stood to his feet and knocked the dust off his jumpers. He realized then that - despite every part of his body aching from head to toe - he was feeling particularly-light. It didn't really dawn on him until now, but it must have been because the artificial gravity of the ship was set lower than that of the full weight of Lotho's gravitational pull. Taking a deep breath, and exhaling all of the worries from his body, he took a look around at the cargo hold with a new sense of wonder. He was really here now. Back in outer space. "I guess it's high-time I stop mopin' and get on with things..."

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

Zane felt that cold, gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach returning as Junktown became smaller and smaller beneath him. In the moment, he had agreed with Fel that they needed to leave; there was certainly a point to be made that the Empire wasn’t known to “gently coerce” their enemies into surrendering. Especially when it was a point of pride to them that no one dared to make a move against them. Still, the boy felt as though he was abandoning his brother to this planet. If the Empire didn’t come looking for him first, then the Dorbeks might actually end up on Parlo’s doorstep before long.

As the ship continued skyward, Zane reached out toward the ground, shouting with all his might into the swirling winds as if anyone could actually hear him, ”Marcuuuuuus! I’m sorry! I’m so–...I’ll be back, I swear!”

The cables pulled them and their heisted cargo into the hold, dangling them from the ceiling until the bay doors closed beneath them. As the winch mechanism lowered them onto the floor, Zane quickly unhooked himself and staggered off toward the wall of the storage area, bracing himself against a bulkhead beam as he felt his knees threatening to give out. Slowly, he knelt, ripping off the scrubber mask he’d been wearing and tossing it across the room. It clattered to a stop over next to some shelves, not far from where Fel stood. Zane struggled to breathe, feeling the tears start to well in his eyes as he clenched his fists, slamming them weakly into his thighs.

”I can’t believe I just left him there!” His voice was straining and cracking under the emotional stress threatening to overtake him, ”He depended on me to keep him safe, to keep him whole – and I left him!” His tear-filled eyes turned toward Fel as his expression twisted into one of sadness and shame, ”What if…what if the Imps nab him?! What happens when the Dorbeks show up and think that ‘one Corvus is just as good as another’, huh?! You’ve got all these ‘plans’ and ‘schemes’, right? Whaddya got for that?!”

The youth was lashing out, that much was certain. Zane knew that Fel wasn’t responsible for anything having to deal with him. He knew that there was nothing the man needed to answer for, nor would any answer be likely to balm his wounded heart. But still, he was clawing at anything, hoping that there might be something that could be done to help the only family he had.

Fel was likewise extricating himself from the harness, unclipping the several buckles that held the web of nylon and leather in place, the cables dangling from their retractors in the ceiling of the hold. It was several seconds before he realized he was holding his breath, as Zane let it all out. When the scrubber landed near him, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He was listening, but he was also light-years away from here, the kid’s anguish in keen, angular contrast to the apathy he had felt for his own shithole upbringing, and the chance to escape it. When Fel thought back about Taris, what he recalled was the hollow ache of an empty stomach, and the feeling of utter loneliness and helpless insignificance of a listless, meaningless life spent perpetually on the run. Nobody to turn to, nowhere to go.

The smuggler looked at Zane, one crystal-clear blue eye and the other a sickly yellow, peering at him with an inscrutable look on his gaunt features. Zee looked for all the world like he might lash out, or keel over, or curl up and hug his own knees, or cannonball back to Lotho. He looked shell shocked, like a stow-away caught by the scruff of his neck. Silence was deafening for what seemed like a long time, until Wrench’s binary scratchy tooting bleeps came through their earpieces, asking their situation. They weren’t out of the woods yet (though the Spacer felt more at ease, airborne, rather than planetside.) He held Zane’s gaze as he replied, quietly. “Two safely aboard, with cargo. I’m on my way to the bridge.”

He stepped carefully, closer to Zane, placing his hands on Zane’s shoulders. Fact was, there wasn’t much Fel could do or say to make the hurt go away, besides stay true to his word. And comfort wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Hell, communication in general was painful. He thought of something to say, discarded it. Thought again. Zee was right, of course. His brother would likely suffer. But if he’d stayed, Zane would be dead now. That much was for sure. What eventually came out was surely not what the youth wanted, or needed to hear. But Galdaart wasn’t prone to bullshitting. Even so, he tried to sound as warm, as earnest as he could, given the situation. ​​”Welcome aboard, Zane. This is my home. Maybe for a spell, it can be yours, too.”

'Floating' (Star Wars 2 BBY)

The initial jolt as the shuttle blasted out of the bay was what brought Zane out of his shocked stupor as his weight shifted, causing him to nearly topple over. He quickly braced himself and began looking around with wild eyes as he heard Fel’s voice come through the shuttle’s internal comm system. Realizing the blaster rifle was still in his hands, he placed it over to his side on the seat, regretting that he couldn’t just toss it out of the shuttle’s doors. So many thoughts were racing through his mind, the primary among them being whether or not this was all just some nightmare that he couldn’t seem to wake up from. With so much happening in so little an amount of time, one could easily confuse the events for some sort of fever dream. When his mind finally caught onto the fact that they were heading to some location other than Junktown (initially), his blood nearly froze. It was becoming all too real. Zane hadn’t even thought about what was going to take place after the whole “caper” had been pulled off. From the time he’d been “escorted” onto the shuttle the first go-around, he felt as though he could only focus on what was directly in front of him.

But now, things were about to start moving very, very fast. Possibly too fast for him to keep track of. ”Wait, so…what’s the ’Unfair Advantage’?” He said, looking over at Aellyn, ”Is that some kinda ship? Your ship?!”

Aellyn shook her head, her finger pointing toward the cockpit. “Nah, not mine. His. I’m just hitching a ride to the next destination.” She shrugged, pulling out her data pad. Her thumbs moved quickly over the keys as she turned, plugging into the ship's console. “Hey Wrench…you copy?” She paused. Then a series of beeps and boops came through, she grinned. “Awesome, we are coming in hot, prep the ship for immediate departure.” Pause another series of droid talk. “Really? Fel is slightly busy right now…” She turned her head toward the cockpit. “Fel! Tell your stupid droid to prep the ship!”

Zane’s skin began to crawl, and he started rubbing his hands up and down his legs nervously. His mind had suddenly flashed to his brother, and Parlo, their caretaker. How was he even supposed to face them again, knowing that he’d actually killed someone? Would he even get the chance? It was obvious to him that his chances of avoiding the Empire here on Lotho Minor after this incident were practically nonexistent. He was going to have to run. But it wasn’t as if he could just take Marcus with him. And would these people even bother taking him to begin with? They could just as easily discard him, leave him to face the Imps - “holding the bag”, as it were. He felt his hand absentmindedly reach over to grab the blaster rifle again. If worse came to worst, he realized, his best play might be to have the weapon on hand. He hated that his life had taught him to be so distrustful of others, but that was life on Lotho. His gaze lowered from Aellyn for a moment as he pulled the weapon closer to him on the seat, not really knowing what else to do. All he knew was that he had to look out for himself and his brother, and anyone who would get in the way of that goal was the enemy…

Jet stood by the rear hatch of the shuttle, his eyes locked onto the two crates Abilene had sent them for, the ones that were top priority to transport to the UA. The Shuttle’s descent proved rough, but he knew the terrain planetside would prove worse, and, after seeing it first hand, he knew that the repulsor lift was going to be a bigger hassle than it was a boon. Ever busy, his mind was already working on the most efficient way to get the crates to their destination.

Frustration boiled over as he yanked off his helmet and hurled it to the ground, it clattering across the floor, echoing his own irritation. The armour had served its purpose during the mission, but now it was simply a hindrance. He started unfastening the clasps and buckles of the armour, the pieces clattering to the floor of the shuttle. Each piece falling made him feel a little more agile, more unburdened. From beneath his armour, he tensed, ready for what’s to come. Knowing how Fel flew, he also knew he wouldn’t have time to remove the lower half of the armour. It would take more time than he could afford.

He rolled his shoulders, alleviating his range of motion. He moved to the first crate, throwing his rifle to hang over his back, before he wrapped a single hand around the handle, he lifted it slightly off of the ground, testing its weight. Satisfied, he did the same with the second. Assured he would be able to carry both, each with a single arm, he was ready. The weight of them was formidable but his determination was stronger. He crouched between the crates, one on either side of him, using them to steady himself. His hands rested on each one, ready for the right moment.

Fel flipped switches, and guided the Xi-class in a long arc away from the Basilisk, flying low enough that anyone entering the flight deck was liable to evacuate their bladders. He was rusty in a shuttle such as this, and it showed, the flight path shuddering and rough as he fought the controls, finding the ship’s rhythms. He homed in on the UA’s hidden locale, first making sure they weren’t followed, and secondly making damn sure they’d be on the ground again before the Imperial at-ease flight response time of three minutes, thirty seconds. (in-flight, a Star Destroyer always had armed escort and a flight of TIE’s ready to launch at a moment’s notice. On the ground, not so much. They’d have been dead already if the Basilisk was in orbital dock.) He really needed a third arm to properly perform all the tasks he needed to do at the moment, and when Aellyn called out through the open hatch that Wrench was being, well… Wrench, he cursed the little Astro droid, flipping on the comms system and dialing in their secure band. ”Goddamn it Tin Can, fire up the converters like the lady said, or I’m tossing you out with the rest of the scrap-iron! We’re coming in hot, and leaving like your ass after the branding iron in Jabba’s fire-blasted slave pit!” He threw the comm earpiece against the bulkhead, not even waiting for Wrench’s retort.

Flying in these canyons of waste and scrap was suicide, and if he wasn’t trying to overcome the Basilisk’s substantial sensor suite, which was no doubt looking for them right that moment, he’d have eased off the throttle, and gained a hundred feet altitude. As it was, he was toppling leaning towers of scrap with the wake of their drive motors, and boiling the toxic lakes they were mere feet above as they torched the terrain, covering ground like a scalded Teek. Warnings flared up on Fel’s screens as he pushed the little craft to the breaking point, threatening to burn out the drive-jets. But he didn’t care. It would hold. This only needed to get them another thousand yards. ”Hold onta somethin’!” he called out, as the horizon loomed. Cutting thrust in a narrow canyon of trash, he dropped the Xi onto its landing skis, letting it slide and bury itself nose-first into a mountain of scrap at 60 knots, neatly burying it halfway into the mound, coming to a shuddering, violent halt. Fel killed all power, activating the landing ramp, which dropped about half of its prescribed descent before getting wedged against a wad of scrap. It was enough to slide out, underneath.

He moved back into the cargo and crew compartment, glancing from face to face. ”Sorry for the bumpy ride. This thing’s a piece of dank farrik… C’mon. We’re a hundred yards from home. And the Basilisk is still two minutes from being able to launch TIE’s – if they even know where we’ve gone. I’d be surprised if they’ve got us on anything other than possible visual.” Grabbing up as much gear as he could carry, he moved for the landing ramp, nodding at Jet and Aellyn, and catching Zane’s eye for the briefest of moments, noting the blaster tucked close by his side. There was a question in his glance, but the spacer said nothing..

With the shuttle suddenly coming to a screeching halt, Zane barely had the time to steady himself before Fel had come into the passenger compartment. He continued to clutch the weapon he’d been holding at his side, even as Fel’s eyes looked upon him. When Fel made eye contact with him for a brief moment, he held his gaze before standing to his feet, slinging the former soldier’s blaster over his shoulder by the strap and tucking it behind him. ”Uh, yeah…you’re prolly right. Lemme see what I can scav off this heap of junk and I’ll be right behind you.” The boy spent the next few minutes moving through the shuttle, grabbing up medkits, repair parts - whatever he could get his hands on that was of use or value - and tucking them up underneath his arms as he moved around the passenger cabin. Calling back over his shoulder as the seasoned spacer walked by him, he tried to put a sense of urgency in his voice, ”Oh…we’re gonna head back into town to get the kolto, right? If so…I might need to talk to you before we head back in. There’s…a few things you should prolly know…”