Enigmatic Souls [Meira]

[Squee]

The day had turned out decent despite her problem with the Red Hydras. After pulling a hundred credits from them for being rude, she’d put it to good use buying a greasy but satisfying lunch. Presently, she was walking down the market street with a bowl of good old fashioned sorbet. It was hardly a genius plan to attempt lifting an item from the marketers, especially from the street vendors outside their stores. The men and women who manned their booths tended to be those who knew how to chop off the hands of thieves.

Little snot nosed, childish thieves who only knew how to snatch the obvious way that is. Nezda couldn’t resist the temptation to banter with these vendors and gauge her potential level of success of smoothly relieving them of a trinket, battery, or device. She still had eighty-seven credits of Red Hydra money to spend, but gambling with risks was much more exciting than bartering equal price for labor. Except for a bedazzled wallet, Nezda didn’t see anything that she really wanted. It wasn’t worth the effort to get the wallet, either. The shrewd man in the store had eyes like a predatory bird and a barbed tongue.

She was finishing her sorbet when she was walking up to her “borrowed” ship. With its “borrowed” clearance codes. Her smile was curling around the edges of her spoon as she dragged it from her mouth. She’d snagged the ship for another client, who didn’t expect the beautiful thing for another couple of weeks. The window of opportunity had opened up earlier than Nezda had expected, so she’d decided to rob it earlier. It had been worth it. The technology and build of the ship made flying it easy and smooth.

Except, there were panels hanging open near the engine compartment. And liquid on the ground. Perplexed, the smoky colored woman walked around until she could see around the panels. “Oh… frack. Frack, frack, frackity frack.” She set down her disposable cup, which now held the contacts of liquid remnants and a spoon. Resting her hand on the expensive piece of machinery, her eyes darted across the complications of wires and broken pieces. “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” she groaned, now eyeballing the reddish liquid beneath her boots. “Oh, this is REAL mature,” she shouted out, her voice echoing in the hangar.

No doubt it was the Red Hydras.

“This is what happens when you steal from the Red Hydras.”

Yep. Hydras. Nezda yanked her blaster pistol off her hip as she spun around, leveling it off at eye level of her saboteur. “I didn’t steal. I offered sound advice for sound credits. I thought that those were the terms and conditions of an exchange.”

“I can fix it, though," said the other woman, a mirialan.

“Get out,” Nezda snarled instead.

“You don’t want to hear the price?”

“It’ll be abysmally large in comparison to a hundred credits. Even I know that. Now, piss off, green pea. Else I’m going to damage your pretty face.”

“Fine," the woman made a flippant gesture. "Consider yourself warned.”

“Consider telling your crook of a boss to go spit herself.” Nezda made a rude gesture back.

As the saboteur left, Nezda let out an angry shout and struck at an open panel. Immediately, she yelped and regretted her action, frantically waving her hand as her knuckles stung and throbbed. Angrily stomping, she left the hangar sucking on each other those knuckles. She didn’t know the first thing about engines and mechanics. And because of the ship’s modern technology, it was likely going to take some time to find a mechanic not only with skills but with good luck.

Nezda wished for a little luck to be sent her way as well. She would need a mechanic that wouldn’t demand her entire life savings in compensation. Placing on the best expression she could muster through her annoyance, she asked a passing worker for directions to where the on duty mechanics were. On her way over though, she didn’t refrain from asking a worker here or a worker there if they were a mechanic.

[Meira]

The dice had been on his side all morning. Some thought it uncouth to gable so early in the day, but Ximo had been riding high ever since his win at the casino. He was no fool, of course. When his credits had finally come through, the vast majority were stowed away in his account for rainier days. He'd allotted himself enough to get by. And enough to keep his bona sort running strong.

The shop he'd been working in the past few weeks was much like the countless others he'd worked in as he moved from planet to planet and job to job. The other mechanics were often transients like himself, biding their time and earning some credits while they waited for the next ship in need of their skill. The boss was aloof, leaving them to their antics and paying in cash. It was the perfect set up.

This particular day, Ximo had found himself throwing dice with a few other human men from the shop. It didn't take long for the wagers to become more serious and their levity to suddenly take a turn toward serious as each man watched the rolls with wary eyes. Each man except for Ximo, that is. It was as if he couldn't lose! Crouched down in one corner of the shop, his greasy jumpsuit opened and tied at his waist, leaving the slightly less greasy grey tank top to show; Ximo kissed the crystal that hung from the cord around his neck and shook the dice in his loose grasp. If he got this role, he'd win a weeks worth of wages from the man that crouched across from him. By the look on his face, he didn't seem too keen on the prospect. He should not gamble if he is afraid to lose. Ximo told himself as he let the dice roll. They tumbled, bounced, and knocked against each other until they came to rest beneath his rival's gaze.

"SET!" cried Ximo, jumping to his feet as the other men cheered. His rival, though, stayed crouched and unmoving. There was a tension in the man that did not go amiss with Ximo. Pushing through the congratulatory pats on the back, Ximo stooped to quickly scoop up the credits he'd won. His belongings sat in two bags at the other side of the shop, one full of tools and the other holding his personal effects. He was getting the feeling it might be time to collect them and find another shop to work for. He thanked the men around him with a smile as he made his way in that direction.

"Cheat." The man had not spoken loudly, but the work carried throughout the room all the same, stopping Ximo in his tracks. The others all quieted down, turning and glancing between Ximo and his rival.

"Bobby," Ximo said, turning back toward the man who'd now come to his feet, "I am sorry you have mala sort today. Maybe it will be different tomorrow."

"Maybe I'll rearrange your face! You cheated!"

"Suficient!" Ximo shot back, his hands balling slightly. "No sóc un trampós."

"Speak basic, you dog! No one here speaks that mutt language!"

"DOG!?" the blood had risen to Ximo's face now and his fists flexed in earnest. "Fill d'gossa!" he spat. "You will not be calling me dog again!"

Ximo lunged, ducking under a swing that the man threw and catching him in the gut with his shoulder, driving him backwards until they both lost their balance and crashed to the ground. Bobby was of the same size a Ximo, but even with his indignation at having lost at dice, his rage did not match that of the severely insulted Ximo. Now straddled atop him, Ximo let his fists fall down on the man as he tried to block with his arms. All the while, streams of curses fell from his lips as the other men laughed and cheered. One of the spectators, though, saw the shop foreman appear in a window into the office and silenced his comrades.

Grum was what the men called him; a small bit of the man's last name as far as they knew. He rarely entered the shop except to bark out orders of hand out their weekly pay. But this time, he entered like a storm, scattering any men that were in his path until he arrived at the scene. With one strong arm, he pulled Ximo away from Bobby, pushing him back until a few of the other men caught him. Ximo, panting from the adrenalin, pushed himself away from the others to stand on his own two feet. Grum was helping Bobby up from the ground. He didn't even look over his shoulder when he shouted.

"Out!"

"But Grum, he-"

"Get out, you gypsy rat!"

Ximo could feel his blood boiling again, but one of the men put a hand on his shoulder to hold him still as Grum helped Bobby away. Ximo shrugged the man's hand away and stalked over to his bags. Swinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other down at his side, he burst through the shop door and out onto the streets.

"Vostè oloren com escombraries!" he said, then spat on the ground as he turned away. He needed a drink.

[Squee]

“And you’re a fracking racist wuss!”

“No more of your mouth! Get out of here!” The zeltron man was so enraged, he was more purple than red. It made her break out in a twisted smile, sadistically pleased she had riled him so.

“Wuss!” she cried out again before the door closed on her. “Go to hell the whole shop of you,” Nezda grumbled under her breath as she fully unzipped her leather jacket. Being angry made one hot. If only she was still smoking.

There had been no luck at the spaceport. Between the sleeping men, busy men, and a waiting list that Nezda didn’t want to tangle with, no mechanic was available to service her. Not far out, she had found a shop obviously manned with Hydra loyalists, who flat out refused servicing her for her offer. Nezda was right; the Hydras wanted an obscene amount of money. As for the zeltron, he just refused to leave his shop and wasn’t going to tell his one or two Vahla hating men to fix her ship.

“Spineless cowards and racist nerf herders…” she continued to mumble as she walked down the street. Fine, she’d take her credits elsewhere. Some competitive shop would be willing to accept them somewhere.

The more she walked, her temper diffused to a frustrated simmer. Before long, she identified the sign of another shop and made her way for it. Making it to the window, she peered in… and backtracked a step to lean beside the window with her arms crossed. “Quite the ruckus…” she said to herself. Though there were a few people in there, and she grew hopeful someone would be willing to help her once the issue within was resolved. Nezda watched for a few more minutes before a man passed her… and quickened his step as he saw the commotion inside.

Amusement pulling at her lips, she watched as the shop’s foreman hauled back one of his employees. Though the words were muffled, Nezda gathered that the man winning the fight was fired. Without hesitation, her attention switched onto the now unfortunate man. The probability of him accepting a job was higher now.

He burst out of the shop door in a whirlwind of offended anger, spitting words that were likely unfavorable. The accent and the words struck a vibe in Nezda’s memory. She’d heard similar before… before when she was still with her uncle… Oh! He was Humani! Oh Force, what was it now? She knew some words. They’d taught her! What was hello? She’d heard it before! They had told her once! What was it…What was it?! That’s right!

Nezda pushed herself away from the window and took a few steps after him. “Benvigut,” she said before he could get too far away. More words… more words… So she pointed her thumb at the shop and crooked a brow. “Mala sort?” She didn’t have the accent, she knew, but the words should be enough.

And at that moment, one of the mechanics in the shop opened the door and addressed her. “We’re sorry for the… unprofessionalism…”

“Eh,” Nezda interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “Maybe you should start a fighting ring instead. It was great entertainment. Though it seems your boss just fired your best fighter, which is the stupidest act of business one could perform. So I won’t be investing. Good luck with that!”

Turning away from the man, she closed the small gap left between her and the Humani man. “If you walk with me, I’ll buy you a drink to listen to my problem. Or you can walk your own way and buy your own drink.”

[Meira]

“Benvigut." Ximo turned at the word, but the woman standing there outside of the shop was not Humani. The accent alone might have told him that if he weren't in such a rage. "Mala sort?” she asked, gesturing toward the shop. Ximo produced a humorless chuckle.

"No," he replied, "molt bona sort."

When one of the men from the shop stepped out to talk to the woman, Ximo spat once again on the ground and turned away, walking down the street. He was ready to be rid of that place, the whole planet in fact. But a moment later, the woman was once again speaking to him.

“If you walk with me, I’ll buy you a drink to listen to my problem. Or you can walk your own way and buy your own drink.”

Ximo stopped, eying the woman for a moment. She carried herself with a swaggering confidence that was evident even in the few brief moments he'd been in her company. She knew some Humani, even if she'd used the wrong greeting. A part of him, the superstitious part, was slightly cringing at the open welcome the woman had given. But he dismissed the worry, as this woman wasn't really welcoming him anywhere. She did not own the street.

Offering the woman a lazy, sideways smile, Ximo motioned for her to lead the way. "It is a fair trade, senyoreta. I am Ximo," he dipped his head slightly, "al seu servei."

[Squee]

As the man smiled at her, Nezda knew she’d snagged him. At least his attention and his ear for a short period of time. However, she doubted the Humani man would turn down her offer. Hooking thumbs in her jacket’s pockets and returning his smile with a beam of her own, Nezda pivoted to continue walking. “Excellent, Ximo. This way!”

Now to find a place that wasn’t a complete slum. It had to be halfway decent, and less than a lot smokey. “Nezda,” she said, shooting a look over her shoulder. “Alouette. A far shorter name than the Humani ones. And, unfortunately for you, parlo poc.” She held up her index finger and thumb so they were about an inch apart. “I really only know what I’ve said, know you countered with ‘good luck’, parlo poc, and ‘on és el lavabo’. My memory is a bit sparse when it comes to the Humani language.”

She paused momentarily to ask a passerby the best place to get a drink. She pointed as she gave instructions for Nezda. “Thanks,” and she gestured at her cute companion to follow again. “What’re you doing on the ground, Ximo? You haven’t given up the stars have you? I do hope you working… formerly working… in that shop was only temporary.”

[Meira]

"Un plaer, Nezda." Ximo replied as he allowed the woman to lead the way. He chuckled, nodding his head at her commentary on Humani names. It was a common sentiment shared by the estrani, but names were history and the Humani had no place to store theirs; they carried it with them. "Our names are the only things we keep." he mused, but left it at that.

"You know more than most, senyoreta." he smiled. "The most important words, no?"

As Nezda stopped to ask directions, Ximo studied her further. How had she learned those phrases? Mala and bona sort, maybe. Most estrani, if they knew anything at all, knew the Humani had a thing about luck. But to recognize his speech, and the few more phrases she knew, Ximo wondered if this woman had spent extended time among some of his people.

Getting what she needed, Nezda moved on and Ximo followed. When she asked about his current situation, he felt another need to spit. "Si, temporary." he replied, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "We Humani, we never give up on the stars, nuvi." They arrived at the bar the woman had directed them to and Ximo stepped up to the low tech door, holding it open for Nezda. "We just sometimes get lost." he said with a wink.

Inside, the bar was dark and somewhat cramped, with many of the tables and most of the stools at the bar already occupied. The bartender, some four armed alien, was attending to two customers at once and barely noticed the two newcomers. Ximo glanced around, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, and spotted a booth toward the back.

"Why don't you grab those drinks, and I will grab that table. Then we can listen to your problems, si?"

[Squee]

“Ah, good. Then they won’t miss you,” she said to his confirmation. She smiled again as he said “nuvi”, remembering hearing the word but never quite understood what it meant. Nezda had never heard it used derogatorily, and so she took the use of it to mean something good. She paused as he held open the door, and extended her arm to the street. Eyebrow crooked, she said, “Hell of a place to get lost in. There’s always prettier sights.”

Entering the bar, she stepped to the side to let Ximo in behind her. Hands on her hips, she sighed briefly as she noticed the business of the place. Nezda blinked hard several times to quicken her eye adjustment to the shadows, but Ximo spotted their opening first. “All right,” she agreed, leaning to see where he pointed. “Yes, go put down the bags. Best tell me what you want, though.”

Once he did, Nezda navigated around tables to the bar and sandwiched herself between to patrons to await the bartender. One of them, a woman, gave her a bit of a squint when she did. Nezda ignored the woman’s glance and examined the people around her. Though she didn’t know if any of the Hydras were in here, or whether they knew of her, Nezda was confident in her ability to spot trouble should it happen. She hoped not, though. She didn’t know what kind of man Ximo was and how much trouble he would put up with before he backed out of a situation. Things would be best if the Hydras didn’t try to stir up trouble.

Ordering and receiving Ximo’s drink, Nezda zigzagged between tables to the booth Ximo had pointed out. “Here you are.” She placed the drink in front of him. Then she sat down in the seat where she could most easily see the entrance to the bar. “Excuse me if I don’t drink. I hope that’s not offensive.” Some part of her did want to drink though, and a niggling section of her mind tried to remind her why she should. Before the memories could fully arouse, she quickly redirected her thoughts into furthering acquiring Ximo’s services.

“I have ship problems. Engine problems.” Nezda crossed her arms and leaned back into the seat’s worn, flattened cushion. “May have… pissed off a few people. You don't have to deal with the people, since I took care of them already.” That was a partial truth. Nezda had no idea how stubborn the Hydras were going to be. “I ticked them off, so they goofed up my ship’s engines and for all my space faring, I am not a mechanic nor an engineer.

“So… I would like you to take a look and maybe fix it. If you think you can. In compensation, handsome Ximo,” Nezda tilted her head and smiled easily at the man. “I can give you back the stars. I’ll take you to your next port of call, if you wish.”

[Meira]

"Si," he said as she walked through the door, "but I am liking this view just fine."

After giving Nezda his order, Ximo made his way through the tables to the booth he spotted. He had to offer a few apologies as he squeezed through the patrons, accidentally jostling a few with his bags. When he arrived at the booth, the bags were dropped and pushed along the bench seat until they were smashed against the wall and he could fit in next to them, leaving the opposite bench open for Nezda.

He watched her at the bar, fishing into a pocket for the pack of cigarettes he was fairly certain he still had. When he did find it, Ximo was pleased to see he still had roughly half of them left. He tapped the box against his hand a few times before pulling one out and letting it find that perfect balance between his lips. Nezda was soon at the table, but with only one drink. Ximo arched an eyebrow as he lit his cigarette and Nezda asked that he excuse her lack of indulgence. With a shrug of his shoulders he took a drag, relishing the exotic blend as he breathed it in. Letting the smoke out, he took up the cold glass and took a sip.

"Is no problem." he said.

Nezda then got to the basics. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little put off at the idea of her having "pissed off a few people." There were more than a few gangs on Druckenwell, he'd learned. Most were harmless and small time, but some were the kind that you kept your head down and did your best to avoid. But then again, the opportunity to get off the planet had its appeal. Plus, she called him handsome. Ximo had grinned at that. He'd always been susceptible to flattery.

"It is a good offer." he said, holding out the pack to offer Nezda a cigarette. "But, it is not always wise to step on toes around here. If I am going to help you, I should know who I might offend, no?" He smiled, taking a moment to study Nezda again. "And maybe I should know a little more about la senyoreta who is wanting my... services."

[Squee]

She’d watched him light the cigarette, and noted the instant tightening in her chest that signified her intense craving. Old tastes were hard to replace. Though Nezda had fought hard to shake the bondages of her dependency, and to replace her habits with new ones… some things were just hard to be rid of indefinitely. So when he tilted her pack toward her, there was hardly any hesitation in Nezda. She leaned forward again, elbows on the table, and crooked her hand to pluck one from the pack. With deft grace, it spun across her three fingers as she drew it to her lips. Taking the light and charring the end, Nezda took her first drag, inhaling with almost sinful pleasure.

“Mmm… Well,” she said with a smile. “You won’t be offending me.” Nezda stopped her mouth with another draw, focusing eyes onto his as she considered her advantages in the discussion. She’d used her knowledge about the Humani to draw him in thus far. He was a smart man for being worried about the Hydras. It didn’t mean she had to like it. It made it harder to convince him helping her was what the right thing to do.

“The Hydras,” she relented. “The red ones to be in fact. Low scale, crummy bunch with a lot more hiss than bite. Probably because they don’t have any fangs to speak of. They should be called the Red Worms. Passive aggressive and easy to squish. Instead of turning their heads and striking at my face, they skirted around me like rats and damaged my ship while my back was turned. I’m not happy.”

Nezda’s tone took a sudden, deep transition as she spoke the last three words. “The ship is this year’s model and make. This is their last offense to me. They should not retaliate unless I do first, which, trust me, has crossed my mind. But even a nest of snakes can be too much for one woman to handle.” Really, the Hydras weren’t worth her time. They had nothing to offer her. Their riches were as valuable as vapor.

“At least… it is without proper planning.” Nezda took in a deep breath and lifted the cigarette back to her lips. “As for me, my dear Ximo…” She blew her smoke out in a perfect ring. “I am Vahla but I travel alone. Primarily. I don’t like to be cheated. I like pretty planets and credits in my pocket. And…” she winked. “I like Humani. I’d rather have a Humani look at my ship than those junkyard dogs who may or may not know the first thing about ships in flight. If it goes ratta-ratta-ding-ding, there better be an explanation. In my experience, Humani have been able to tell me why it makes those sounds.”

[Meira]

He watched her hands as she took one of the offered cigarettes, noting for the first time that she seemed to be missing the smallest finger on each hand. Interesting. But Ximo made no mention of it. That would be quite rude, and he was growing fond of this Nezda.

It took her a few moments, but she finally confessed who it was that she had crossed. He chuckled and made a t-t-t sound with his tongue against the backs of his teeth in lighthearted condemnation. "Naughty Nezda." he said. But she was right. From what he'd learned of the many gangs in the area, the Red Hydras were on the lower danger tier. They certainly weren't to be ignored, but were avoided easily enough. He noted the change in her tone at not being happy with having been pestered, arching an eyebrow and taking another long drag on his cigarette.

He released the smoke and tapped the ash off the end of the cigarette into an ash tray on the table as she explained that the Hydras had sabotaged her ship in some pathetic play at revenge. Well, to be fair, she'd certainly been inconvenienced. Smiling, Ximo took a long drink.

"But even a nest of snakes can be too much for one woman to handle." she said, and again Ximo raised an eyebrow.

"I am thinking that might not be true for you, Nezda." Something about the woman hinted at danger and skill. Ximo was not necessarily afraid; he hadn't done anything to cross the woman yet. He did, however, make a mental note to tread carefully with her. At least for the time being.

“At least… it is without proper planning.” she replied. Ximo laughed, nodding his head.

When she named her race, an expression of understanding fell over his face. "Ah, Vahla! Germans perdut! Our lost brothers." he said, pointing the two fingers that held his cigarette at her. "I was wondering why you know about Humani." The Humani and the Vahla found much in common with each other. Of all the races of the galaxy, few could understand the loss of a homeworld quite like the Vahla. They'd held strong trade agreements for generations and it was slightly more common to see an Humani married to a Vahla than it was to see one married to some other estrani. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, nuvi." he smiled, taking another drag off his cigarette.

Putting his hand over his heart at her admission that she liked Humani, Ximo gave a tilt of his head, as if in thanks of the compliment. "Well you are in luck, Nezda. It so happens that I am a very good mechanic. I will do my best to fix your ship." He held his drink up in salute, then tossed it back, draining the contents. Setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh, Ximo took another pull of the cigarette.

"By the way," he said, letting the smoke escape his lungs, "this 'ratta-ratta-ding-ding' is no good. Your ship should never be making this noise. She should purr like a kitten." he said, flashing her a smile and a wink. "You will show me now?"

[Squee]

"I was wondering why you know about Humani."

“Mmm… Si. Family used to be, still might be, good friends with a Humani family.” By the Force, had that been over ten years ago since she’d last seen those people?

"I knew there was a reason I liked you, nuvi."

“I’m sure we could find a few more,” and she smiled.

“It so happens that I am a very good mechanic.” He walked out of a mechanics shop covered in grease and hauling a bag that went rattle-clang. Of course… Well, Nezda supposed those facts alone wouldn’t make him a sufficient mechanic. But Humani as well? He had to have some skills. “I will do my best to fix your ship.”

“Oh, good. Otherwise I would have taken another cigarette and been on my not so merry way.” But Nezda had been sure he would except since his positive reaction to her race. He knew of them, at least. She assumed he’d never encountered them, or hadn’t seen enough of her species to distinguish her from the rest. It was true, though, that a number of Vahla could come across as similar to other species. Human and possibly zelosian, she knew, but for the life of her couldn’t recall a species that shared her specific smoke tinted pigmentation.

"By the way, this 'ratta-ratta-ding-ding' is no good.” Nezda laughed as she shook ash off her cigarette. She was still smiling as she took the last tug of her vice. “I like kittens,” she replied, breathing out the smoke. “If you can make the engine sound like one, I’ll be very impressed.” Nezda twisted the end of her cigarette in the ash tray, saying, “We can go now if you want.”

Nezda slid from her seat and headed the way back to the door. She made sure Ximo was following before she exited to the street. This had happened as she had hoped. He wasn’t mean-spirited, as she’d wondered initially, or rude, or ugly. It made conversing with him easier. “Mmm, I’m afraid the ship isn’t going to be making rattling noises. You’re job won’t be that easy. I just know it’s in disarray, and by the looks, I’ll need parts. That’s no problem, I just need to know which parts to get.”

Backtracking the way she’d come, they made it to the spaceport. Posted by the entrance to her hangar, Nezda recognized a familiar green face. “Hello, snake,” she hissed at the mirialan mechanic. “Aren’t you like a stench? Can’t you linger somewhere else?”

“You left.”

“Leave. If you come anywhere near me, or my things, again, I will end you.”

There was a reluctance in how the mirialan walked off, suspicious almost, and Nezda gestured at Ximo to enter the hangar clearing before her. Her lavender eyes flicked across the mirialan, taking a read on the saboteur before she passed through into the hangar. Reluctance in step, an expectant glimmer in her face… Nezda followed after Ximo.

“Iiii… may have spoken too soon about them not bothering me, handsome Ximo. I’m not sure if they consider threats a retaliation.” She glanced behind her to see if the mirialan woman had reappeared. Nezda wondered if she was being too suspicious, or even paranoid. She could have been reading too much into the mirialan, but until events unfolded and revealed otherwise, Nezda wouldn’t rule out the possibility of something bad happening. “Maybe. I’m not sure. As you can see, not a big ship. Three people makes it squishy, and those open panels over there have some access to the inner workings, which is where they trashed most of it."

[Meira]

'Si. We go." Ximo said, nodding his head and snuffing out his cigarette into the ash tray. Standing, he once again pulled his bags onto his shoulders and followed Nezda as she led the way out of the cantina. He reassured her again as they walked that he would do his best to fix whatever those pesky Hydras had broken.

It wasn't a long trek to where her ship was docked, and the two walked the distance in an easy silence. When they arrived, there was a Mirialan woman leaned up against the wall near the entrance to the hangar. Nezda spoke to the other woman, and Ximo realized that this was one of the Hydras. He stood in silence behind Nezda, ready to reach for the blaster in his boot if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't come to that though.

The exchange of words was quick, and not very pleasant. But the Mirialan woman pushed away from her spot on the wall and made to leave. As she passed, the woman came very close to Ximo, eying him suspiciously. Ximo, for his part, merely smiled at her and gave a quick wink before turning away from her and entering the hangar as Nezda bid. She admitted that her troubles with the Hydras might not be entirely over, and he nodded with a chuckle.

"I am thinking they do not want you to leave." he said. "Breaking your ship and watching it too." He made the t-t-t sound again, but then set his bags down and turned his attention to the panels through which the Hydras had infiltrated the ship's inner workings.

He paced around the ship, letting his hand trail along the smooth hull. He did not immediately recognize the model, but the aesthetic design was similar to some ships he'd worked on in the past. Knowing the shape of a ship gave a good idea of the mechanical layout. There were only so many ways all of the systems could be crammed in. Undoing the knotted sleeves of his jumpsuit, which had been tied around his waist, Ximo pulled the upper part of the suit up and over his shoulders, slipped his arms in and then zipped it up. With a wink toward Nezda, Ximo stooped slightly to fit his head and shoulders into one of the open panels. Inside, it was a tangled nest of wires and hoses, and more than a few broken seals and clamps. He touched nothing, instead moving to another panel and finding a similar situation. But this panel was larger than the other, causing Ximo to wonder...

"Will you let me aboard please?" he asked, stepping away from the panel toward Nezda. "I need to see if anything inside was damaged. That Mirialan woman was pretty small. She maybe could have gotten farther in than I can."

[Squee]

It was possible they might not want her to leave. They had wanted her to do a job for her. What that job might have been, Nezda didn’t care about anymore. They had disrespected and insulted her as a guest. Nezda had no desire to entertain anymore contact with the Hydras, and what she continued to see of them made her bristle with anger.

“Possible,” she said, shoving hands in her pockets. “But I no longer want to do business with them and I’ll be damned if I’ll let them corner me.” Much more harassment and Nezda vowed to start breaking some bones and putting holes in skulls. If they wouldn’t listen to her words, maybe they’d pay attention to some mangling and bodies.

Nezda stood back as she let Ximo look over the ship. It’s poor engine… just a web of confusing wires and lines. Things were dinged, broken, leaked of fluid, and Nezda was worried about cross wires. She didn’t know if the Hydras were as smart as that, but Nezda could remember too many times she’d done such a thing to prevent people from leaving a city or planet. The whole thing made her angry again.

“Yes,” she answered when he asked about going on board. She fished the remote button from her jacket pocket to lower the ship’s ramp. “You can put your bags in too, if you like, so you don’t have to haul them around.”

Suspicious and mistrustful, Nezda flicked off the button to her blaster holster as she stalked up the ramp first. While she didn’t think so, she didn’t want to be surprised by any serpentine friends that may be lurking on board. Silently, she cleared the small ship, pointing out the door to the engine compartment as she did so. “There. And your bags can go here.” Nezda opened the door before her. As an expensive personal transport ship, a lot of focus had gone into personal comfort. Though a bit smaller than the room Nezda had selected for herself, this second room had a decently sized bed bolted to the floor, an individual refresher, and a couple of cushioned chairs surrounding a knee high bolted table in a corner. The color scheme for the room was red, and therefore the upholstery reflected a small spectrum of the color’s shades. There was even a large window to look outside. Though a little squishy, Nezda would not deny the comfort of the ship.

“This is suitable, I hope, for after you fix the ship.”

[Meira]

"Gràcies."

Ximo retrieved his bags, but hung back just a little when he saw Nezda unclip her blaster. For a moment, he had thought this gesture was meant for him, as if she did not trust him while walking onto her ship. That lack of trust was understood by the Humani man, but he hoped they would get past it quickly. He was good with engines, but everyone suffered when they had a blaster pointed at him.

His fears were short lived, however, when Nezda moved up the ramp first. Realization dawned on the man and he quietly chuckled at himself as he followed her aboard. It didn't take long for her to check the ship and Ximo breathed a little easier when she announced it clear. She then indicated the door to the engine room and opened another. When Ximo's eyes fell on the varying shades of red, he couldn't help but grin. Humani color aside, the room was huge... at least compared to what he was used to. Often times, Ximo was lucky to string up a hammock in an engine room, or find a nice corner in the cargo hold to lay out his bedroll. On the off chance that he was able to occupy and actual room, he had to share it with a number of other crewmen.

"Si, nuvi." he said with a laugh, letting his bags fall the the floor of the cabin. "I think it will be very comfortable. Now..." Ximo retrieved the bag that held his tools and moved passed Nezda with a bow of his head. "Time to have a look."

Approaching the door to the engine room, Ximo activated the control. Within was a mess of panels, wires, and parts, all scattered and some entirely broken. Ximo sighed, leaning against the door frame and dropping his bag to the floor. "Pobra nena." he said, stepping over the scattered parts toward the main drive core."¿Què han fet a vostè?" One hand slid along the surface of the drive casing while another fished a scanning tool from a pocket. The device whirred to life, a small blue light emitting from the end as he waved it over the machine. "No et preocupis, estimada. Vaig a ser amable amb vostè."

The first order of business would be to put this mess in order. Ximo began to move quickly, sorting through all the loose material, looking for what would still work and what was entirely unusable junk. From there, he would assess what might still be needed to get the girl working again. For a few moments, Ximo had completely forgotten Nezda's presence. He was reminded of her when he almost stepped on her foot. "Ay, perdoneu." he said, pausing for a moment. He stood up straight again, glancing around the room. "I think it looks worse than it is. But," he gestured toward a growing pile he had mentally labeled as scrap, "you will be needing parts. I will make a list."

Some time later Ximo, now covered in a thicker layer of grease, stood over a number of piles of parts. He'd moved these piles to the ground of the landing pad where he would have more room to work. Luckily, the pile he'd designated for scrap was much smaller than he'd anticipated. A different mechanic might have given up hope on more, but Ximo was resourceful. The end product he had in mind might not be perfect and brand new, but it would have the ship ready to leave this rock and would serve as long as she was needed.

Ximo's eyes darted back and forth between the piles and a datapad he held in his hand, checking over the list he'd made one last time. He was not sure how much money Nezda had at her disposal, so Ximo had made the list as small as possible, and had added recommendations about which kinds of the parts to buy. He hoped it would not be too much of a burden on her. Having their arrangement fall through was not something he wanted.

"Ei, Nezda." he called, moving back toward and up the ship's ramp. "I have the list." When he met her, Ximo went over the items, explaining what they did and why they were needed. "Do you want to go get these, or should I? I am thinking someone should stay with la nau." He put in too much work now to have some Hydra rat tear it up again. "Whatever you decide, capità."

[Squee]

“Ei, Nezda!”

After Ximo had narrowly missed squishing her toes, Nezda left him with instruction to find her when he was finished sorting and thinking. Leaving her door open, the vahla woman had fallen backwards onto her neatly made bed, undoing all its crisp lines. While Ximo’s room was modeled with shades of red, Nezda’s was in shades of blue. It was also bigger than the one she’d offered the humani man. Nezda always believed in taking the greatest benefits and/or treasures of any heist. That meant she broke in the nicest room on the ship and got the biggest cut. Fortunately, there was only one cut.

Her stress ball fell into the seat of her hand. She’d been playing catch with gravity. It was boring, but more entertaining than staring at her gray ceiling. Giving the squishy ball a hard squeeze, Nezda shifted upright. Turning, she tugged the bed covers until the edges were sharp and the bed’s surface was smooth. Her hand caught the door’s edge as she made to walk out, swinging herself into the ship’s short passageway.

“Mmm?” she greeted Ximo halfway down the ramp. He turned the list toward her, and she shoved her hand into her jacket pockets as she listened. Honestly, she hadn’t the faintest of understanding what these parts were and much of what Ximo said went in one ear and out the other. Nezda nodded occasionally, anyway, as if she did.

“I’ll get them,” she answered him, holding out her hand for the datapad. She didn’t want Ximo to get jumped by the Hydras. Lavender eyes swept the hangar again as she stood at the bottom of the ramp. Her fingers fondled the independent remote for the ship. After a moment of silent deliberation, Nezda spun about to toss the remote at Ximo. Though she’d only just met him, the vahla woman knew the ship was damaged beyond its ability to fly. “You stay safe, handsome. I’ll surely be sad if the Hydras get you.” Smirking with a wicked glimmer in her eye, Nezda turned about and headed off.

---

Truly, she just needed to get off this planet. Nezda had her fill of Drunkenwell and its slimy, underhanded, greedy grubbing denizens. Criminal, that’s what the prices had been, even with Ximo’s suggestions. Though it wasn’t often Nezda bought parts for a ship, she didn’t believe the sum total should cost her an arm and a leg. She’d already given up two pinky fingers to this universe, must it take more?

So, by the time Nezda returned, she was grumpy due to the obscene amount of credits she’d spent today. One could make a statement she could have made it without hiring one of the persons from the last shop she’d visited. However, the parts had grown heavy and Nezda didn’t see the harm in dumping a couple more hundred credits into the day to have a goon carry them for her.

And she’d bought cigarettes. Ximo sharing his earlier made her miss smoking.

“Ximo!” she called. Smoke curled from between her lips as she waved off the carrier. He’d been eyeing the ship, no doubt not used to seeing such a new ship flying around. A scowl on her face, Nezda watched him go and flicked ash off her half-burnt cigarette. “Check and see if I found the right parts. They should at least look good.” Nezda refused to buy any of the parts if they had even a streak of dirty smudge.

If the Hydras so much showed their faces one more time, Nezda didn’t think she’d hesitate to gut them after such a sour day.

[Meira]

Ximo nodded at her decision, handing over the datapad and stepping to the side to make room for her to walk down the ramp. He followed behind her a few steps, eager to get back to the piles of parts, but stopped when she did. He watched her from behind as she seemed to consider something, then caught the remote when she turned and tossed it to him.

"Si, nuvi." he replied with a smile and a wink. "Do not be worrying about Ximo." he continued, lifting a booted foot and exposing the small blaster concealed there. "La nau and I will be fine."

He watched her leave, the smile on his face turning slightly smug at the compliment she'd given him. When she was out of sight, he touched the small crystal that hung around his neck and murmured a quick thanks to the flux before turning back to his work. The scrap pile was ignored, for now, and instead Ximo set to the task of looking over lengths of wire and cable, patching what he could and cutting away what would no longer serve. After this, he turned his attention to fuses and couplings, using a small soldering tool to reconnect busted prongs and circuitry. It was slow work, but not because of lack of skill. Ximo moved at a slower pace because he was splitting his attention between his work and keeping an eye out for trouble makers.

There were two instances where children lingered at the entrance to the landing pad, and Ximo eyed them with suspicion. It wouldn't be the first time little ones were used for spying or other nefarious deeds. When one small group of the children deigned to venture a bit further through the entrance, Ximo tossed a scrapped piece of paneling at them and sent them scuttling away under a barrage of Humani expletives.

Other than that, though, Ximo passed his time unmolested. By the time Nezda had returned, he had worked through a good bulk of the salvaged parts and was ready to start reassembling some of the engine's components. At the sight of her arrival, Ximo stood from where he'd been sitting next to a pile of converter parts and wiped his brow with a grease stained rag. She called out his name just as he came into view around the corner of the ship.

Nodding to the man who'd carried the load for his new found employer, Ximo knelt to inspect the parts she'd returned with. Nodding his head, he checked what was before him against the list on the datapad. It all seemed to be in order.

"This is good." he said, standing back up again. "I hope it was not too expensive." He began opening a particularly lovely looking set of pressure gauges. "Hola, bonic." he crooned, holding the pieces with gentle hands. Looking up at Nezda, he smiled appreciatively. "You will spoil a man, eh? Bringing him such gifts."

He turned away and back to his work, but his eyes lingered still for a moment in the movement. But once his focus was back on his task, Ximo had eyes only for the ship and the engine that slowly came back into shape under his careful hands. As he worked, he hummed and murmured intermittently, like a lover, to the ship and the engine. She was a fine piece of machinery; simple, yet elegant. It truly was a shame what had been done to her.

After some hours, around half of the piles of parts had been fitted back into their proper places. Ximo leaned against the outer hull, having just replaced a panel. The upper half of his jumpsuit had been peeled away again and tied around his waist. He lit and then took a drag from a cigarette, letting the smoke out in a slow stream. The heavy work was done and the rest would go much quicker now, but his shoulders and neck ached from the extended time spent stooped, or otherwise contorted, in the less accessible parts of the engine room and outer panels. He needed a short break.

[Squee]

I hope it was not too expensive.

"Hah." The sound was void of humor. Still scowling and a hand shoved in her jacket pocket, Nezda watched the floating ash from her cigarette flutter down between her boots. Her next words slid out on the curling back of smoke. "S'long as it works."

Ximo seemed beyond pleased with the parts though, gently removing and holding them. Nezda watched him mostly absently, still grumpy and the purpose behind the machinery guts lost to her. It was difficult to ignore his geniune smile, though. Despite her sour mood, Nezda crooked a half smile. "Consider it my pleasure." Carefully, she ground the ball of her foot onto the stub of her cigarette.

As Ximo turned his attention back onto the ship, Nezda escaped up the ramp. She passed down the narrow hallway with a wrinkle in her nose. What was the ship worth now? Likely significantly less since it had been damaged, and she was never going to be paid the exact worth of the ship anyway. About three-fourths of the credits up front had been spent on the replacement parts. Would it be worth taking it to the person who wanted it now?

"Or would it be better to keep it now?" Nezda mused aloud, shrugging her jacket from her shoulders. It was the thought of the afternoon. The vahla woman spent little time in her room. Opening her underwear drawer, she acquired a secondary blaster and a battery cell. The closet was liberated of a cleaning box. Tossing and catching her stress ball once, Nezda retraced her steps back to the outside.

The pile of parts would take a while to assemble into place. With a small resigned sigh, Nezda seated herself cross legged facing the hangar entrance. She pulled the blaster on her hip free with minor difficulty, laying it beside its brother before her. It would be much simpler to keep the ship, she thought as she removed the battery cell from the first blaster. The would-be new owner wouldn't be pleased to know about the sabotage. She would pay Nezda less, perhaps threaten not to pay at all.

The blaster scattered into pieces under Nezda's expert fingers. While contemplating the potential stressful discussion with her employer, she hadn't realized when the box had been opened until after she'd begun polishing pieces with an oiled rag. Within an hour, Nezda had decided what to do with the ship. Not long after that, she was raising a second cleaned blaster, staring down the barrel and slowly pulling the trigger until it clicked. Perfectly operational and now clean. And no problems with Hydras.

Sighing, Nezda rolled her shoulders and twisted her back in a stretch. Glancing at the still working Ximo, she frowned. It would be some time yet. Twisting and bouncing the stress ball quickly became tiresome. However, time dissolved when Nezda began timing how fast she could break down and reassemble one of her blasters. Even then, the hours crawled for Nezda. She even wished the Hydras would show up, just for some excitement. Granted, she would likely kill the snakes, but then she would just have to hide the bodies!

Shoulders slouching, Nezda glanced back at Ximo for the bajillionth time. Surprised he wasn't stooped over the part pile and instead on a smoke break, Nezda stood and made way into the ship. Reappearing moments later, Nezda carried two cups of water, which she extended one toward Ximo.

She paused while sipping, lavender eyes thoughtful as she looked at him. "Well," she said at last as the slight wrinkle dissipated from her brow. "I don't remember any more words, try as I may. Sorry, Handsome. Anyway... it's going well? Yeh?" She pointed at the open panel, exposing the innards of the ship. "'Cuz it's going all well over there," she waved an arm to where she'd been sitting. Presently, one blaster remained stripped with its pieces stacked. Nezda had been attempting to balance them on top of each other. Beside it, a datapad also lay in a unsolved jigsaw.

"What're the bands?" she asked, waggling a finger at his arm. Nezda could very well guess what the compass was, but bands could mean lots of things. Family, years, key mile markers of life... Stars, she was dying for something else to do besides balancing a trigger on a spring.

[Meira]

He saw Nezda move from the place where she'd been cleaning her blasters, but did not pay much mind to it. At least, not until she came from the ship, bringing water for them both. He took the cup gratefully and drank half of it in one go.

"Ah." he sighed, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of the hand that held his cigarette. "Gracias."

There was a silence, but Ximo felt no urgency to fill it. The deep spacers on the Melodia Llunyana were a lively group at times, but also comfortable in silence. You had to be, or the void would swallow your mind and leave you mad. So, he did not immediately jump to conversation. He merely alternated between his water and his cigarette. Nezda did speak though, after a few moments. He smiled at her confession of having no more Humani words to offer, and shrugged his shoulders.

"We are not teaching our words in estrani schools." he said, dismissing the confession. "You know more than I expect."

"Si, nuvi." he said, when she asked about the ship. "These Hydra are not so clever as they think." He gave a wink. "They pull some things apart and say 'haha! Is broken!' But, not to Ximo, eh?"

He glanced down at his arm when she posed the question about his tattoo. His smile softened with memory as he held his arm up slightly for her to see better. He took a final pull on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and grinding his heel to snuff it out. He looked back up at Nezda and then at the work she'd left to come join him. He recognized restlessness.

"Is a memory." he said, simply. "There is no special meaning in the pattern, I don't think." he mused, looking back at his arm. "But it is shared." He wondered then, where the twin Zeltrons Nick and Nina might be now. "I have old friends," he clarified, "that have this too.

"Now, nuvi." he finished his water, then continued with a mock serious tone. "I will teach you new words. I think you will like these." He paused, allowing her a moment to prepare for her lesson. "No te quedis quiet." he said slowly so that she might pick up each syllable. "It means 'do not stand still'". He motioned for her to follow him onto the ship. "I am needing more hands. Will you help me?"

[Squee]

She was really beginning to like this Ximo. Humani aside, Nezda had previously believed he might have told her to find another mechanic, or a new ship, upon inspection of the damage. He was confident in his skill, however. He moved purposefully and skillfully, for all she could see. His hands at ease upon the engine as hers was on a blaster. Nezda liked that. If the ship flew after all was complete, she would be most impressed indeed.

To boot, he had a glamour of humor in endless supply. She'd laughed at his mockery of the Hydras, brief and light. "Worms, as I said before. And worms are not so bright." Charming, she thought. He was trying, and rather succeeding, to charm her with winks, grins, and jokes. Still, though, the time for wariness had not yet passed.

She dipped her head to accept his vague explanation about his tattoo. Nezda didn't pry, knowing how she would disapprove of much digging into her life. Goddess, she hoped he wouldn't ask about her hands. They eventually often did though. It was certainly only a matter of time.

"Now, nuvi." What did nuvi mean? she wondered. Despite the nickname, the new tone he used imitated authority. Her eyebrow quirked as she listened and she sipped her water. "No te quedis quiet," she parroted back to him, pronounciation slightly off. Upon hearing the translation, Nezda huffed a breath of amusement. "Standing still is for trees, handsome. And I am vahla - not a tree.

"I'll help," she answered definitively. She might even actually learn something. Following Ximo onboard, she cast a final glance toward the hangar entrance, willing anything to dare show up. If the Hydras continued to be smart, they would stay away.

"However, I will warn you," she said, a playful smirk twisting her lips. "My jealousy may grow. She's," Nezda indicated by patting the bulkhead, "receiving all the fine purrs and smooth words, but I brought you the pretty gifts!
"Now... what do you need me to do?"

[Meira]

Ximo nodded his head encouragingly as she spoke the words back to him. Not quite right, but pretty good for an estrani. The corners of his lips turned down slightly, in a mock frown of consideration. He held his hand out, palm down, and wobbled it side to side to indicate she'd done so-so.

"We will work on that." he said, dismissively.

Her agreement to help him was well received and he lead the way back to the engine room enthusiastically. This part of assembling the converters in the engine was a vexing bit of work. Even Ximo, genius as we was with engines, could not conceive of a way to do it with less than four hands.

Her comment about her jealousy toward the attention the ship received from him had Ximo pausing in the doorway of the engine room. He arched an eyebrow, turning back toward Nezda. His eyes met hers, searching for a hint as to just how much of her comment was a jest. There was no nervousness in his gaze, simply a curiosity at how far he might take things with his response. The impulsive part of his mind wanted to let her know that he was more than happy to make her purr, if that was indeed what she wanted, but their acquaintance was a new one. Ximo wasn't ready to be kicked off this ship just yet.

"Tot en temps, Nezda bella." he said, and left it at that.

Turning away, he stooped to lift up part of the converter matrix he'd assembled from salvaged and newly purchased parts. It was, if he said so himself, a thing of beauty. It mattered little to him if others would agree or not. He handed this to Nezda, with instructions to keep it level, while he retrieved the other part of the unit. This was why two people were needed. The acids in the matrix converted the energy from the drive core into plasma pulses to power the hyperdrive. The matrix needed to remain level and balanced as it was fitted into its compartment, or the ratio would be off and the whole system would fail and melt the core. Ximo could not, in any way that he'd yet been able to conceive, keep the matrix level while attaching the corresponding couplings.

"Bring that here." he said, motioning her toward the core chassis where an open panel exposed a small cavity. "Keep it steady while I connect these parts here. I will tell you when you can let it go."

Nezda had complied, moving closer to the panel and lowering her hands carefully into the space. Ximo watched, eyes narrowed to focus on her movements. "No, no." Ximo set the couplings down and took her forearms lightly in his hands. "Just here." he said, guiding her slowly. He stood opposite her, the chassis between them, but his head was stooped close to hers as he positioned her. "Així. Perfecta."

He knelt down then, his eyes level with the open panel and reached for the first coupling. His other hand took a sealant tool as he positioned the coupling between the matrix and the drive core port. "Bona Nezda." he said softly, shaking a loose strand of his hair out of his eyes. "Don't move. Is hot, but only a moment."

A second later, he activated the sealing tool and a quick spark lit up the dim space where they worked. A sizzle and the smell of ozone followed as the sealing agents bound the coupling to the matrix. Another flash and it was bound to the drive core port as well. He quickly retrieved the second coupling and repeated the process. When this was done, he wrapped his hands around hers and pulled them out of the assembly, slowly. His eyes never left the matrix, watching as it shifted and its weight settled. He smiled.

"Ben fet, nuvi." he said, giving her hands a quick squeeze before releasing them.

A gyro support was added to the assembly with quick, steady hands, and the panel was replaced. After this, he turned back to Nezda, wiping his hands on a towel. "She is not done." he said, looking to the engine and then back to Nezda. He leaned a shoulder against the bulkhead and clicked his tongue a few times in thought. "But she can fly again. The rest I can do while we go, if you like. I must just clean up outside first."