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catwif3rating: hard M to light E
word count: 7800
fandom: star wars (post rotj, pre tfa, entirely oc-centric)
summary: wanted: shipboard engineer.
originally posted 3/8/17
=======================
thomas is bored.
oh, existentially, sure, yeah, like, she’s totally done with this city and this back-of-nowhere garage job and her mother laying down the pressure to dress nicer and come to all these society parties and maybe get into politics or business or something. her mother comes from a long line of core-world entrepreneurs or something. thomas is told that she takes after her father: zeltron mutt, tried and true corellian rogue, dead before thomas was born. all thomas has of him is his name and his alien heritage.
but really, thomas is just bored right now. it’s a slow day at the shop. the only things they have left are some sputtering swoops and a tiny light freighter waiting to be picked up. thomas is taking apart a chrono on the counter just to have something to do with her hands, that’s how desperate she is.
the bell over the door at the other end of the garage chimes. thomas stills the instant, eager jump of her heart, telling herself that it’s probably just the swoop-bikers finally here to pick up their rides. no sense getting her hopes up. this garage never gets the interesting work. thomas needs a new job.
a human man and a togruta of indeterminate gender edge round the freighter. they’re both smallish; thomas doesn’t have to look up very far at them at all. she absently notes that the man probably used to be imperial: he still dresses like he misses having a uniform. the togruta is all in tight-fitting black with a long duster over it, setting off their dusky orange-brown skin and white-and-tan lekku very nicely. rowr.
calm down, girl. remember, customers are out-of-bounds.
“well hell-o, gorgeous,” the togruta says, ambling over to the counter like they’ve been here before and leaning over on one elbow. thomas takes a sharp breath and tries not to let her heart race. they’ve got the cutest white markings around their eyes, with little lines running down to their chin. thomas bites her lip and then tries to stop that. customers, she reminds herself.
“what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” the togruta continues, and thomas sits up straighter abruptly, the high stool she’s sitting on letting her at least look them straight in their golden-green eyes. flirting is one thing, but anything that implies she doesn’t belong in a mechanic's job makes her touchy as hell.
“hey, buddy,” she starts hotly, and they hold up their hands in immediate surrender.
“sorry, that’s a bad come-on,” they say. which isn’t really the problem, but thomas will let them have it.
“dhyneera,” the human sighs. dhyneera backs off the counter to nudge the human forward. thomas wonders if they’ve even got a real problem. probably just want someone to help read their meters; that would be just her luck.
“um,” the human starts. his nervousness grates on thomas, keying her up along with him. "does your business service non-correllian makes?“
"of course,” thomas says. "we’re not associated with the shipyards. we’re an independent business.”
“yes, well,” the human starts.
“that’s what the last three said, at first,” dhyneera finishes. the human gives a rueful, nervous little chuckle.
“we’ve got a, uhm. a kdy raider-two corvette with. ah. considerable damage, i don’t know why the hyperdrive isn’t working, it’s not even damaged itself, but uhm. anyway. one of the engines is definitely blown. and everyone keeps telling us they don’t have parts.” he cuts off abruptly and looks down at the counter, then back at the togruta.
“that’s the shape of things,” dhyneera says.
thomas is no longer bored.
“well,” she says, jumping off the stool. "where are you docked?“
"oh thank fuck,” the human says, and then colors until he almost matches thomas. "this was the last garage that came up on search in the sector.“
"have you just been looking for someone to take a look at your ship all day?” thomas asks, curious.
“try more like three rotations,” dhyneera says. "there are a lot of ship-fixers on correllia. anyway, we’re docked over at the cherek-six-six port. when do you think someone can come have a look?“
thomas is still chewing on "ship-fixers.” she wonders if dhyneera is trying to get a rise out of her.
“right now, if you want,” thomas says. "i’m not surprised you’re having trouble with a kdy ship in this part of town. you wanna be trying the black market in the underground or out past the moons for that.“
"well,” dhyneera says with an overdone wink, “something told me to try up here first.”
thomas wishes dhyneera would stop trying to distract her when he’s already so goddamn pretty. there’s things to be done and also she is on the clock.
“let’s go see your fucked-up kuat junker, then,” thomas says, leading them out the right door this time and flipping the sign to ‘closed.’ the doors auto-lock with a buzz. thomas can’t help but preen a bit over the miasma of fuming offense coming off of the human over thomas calling their ship a junker. maybe she’s striking back at the wrong target, but oh well.
the cherek-six-six port is forever away and the customers came by foot. thomas swipes her airtram pass for all three of them. she’s not walking all the way over there, no way.
they’re only stopped by planetside corsec once, which is sweet for a cross-city ride. the human’s anxiety goes so high for that that thomas is honestly kind of ill over it right along with him, and wishes she’d just sat next to dhyneera, uncomfortable and inappropriate attraction or not. like, fuck, dude, it’s just corsec. is it an imperial thing to be so afraid of random inspections? thomas is so glad she’s correllian, sometimes.
their ship is instantly recognizable at the port among the usual flock of CR-90s and YT-serieses. it looks like a goddamn tiny star destroyer. thomas tries not to start laughing. it’s like the toy versions of pet anoobas that one of her mother’s friends carry around in their purse.
“oh, kdy,” thomas says under her breath. "never change.“
the boarding ramp into the hold is open, with three people standing (one sitting, really) guard by it. they’re all human; two men and a girl. one of the men is tall and sturdy-looking; the other is average in every way that thomas can tell. the girl is a stocky blonde who looks like she bathes in engine grease. thomas likes her already.
"found another person who’s at least willing to take a look,” dhyneera calls.
“oh, good,” the sturdy one says. "i was beginning to think you’d swanned off forever.“
"what does 'swanned’ mean?” dhyneera says curiously. tall and sturdy stops, looking confused.
“um. i guess it’s based on this bird from my home planet. migratory. mates for life. very showy. so it denotes both leaving, and leaving with another person, and doing so in a dramatic manner.”
“huh,” average says. "i’ve totally heard you say that before, but it never even occurred to me to ask you what it meant specifically. you’re surprisingly eloquent about words, perth.“
"that is why i love perth the best,” dhyneera says.
“no, you love me the best because we can whine about pronouns together,” perth corrects, implacable. thomas revises her ideas about said pronouns quickly and guiltily.
“come on,” blonde says. "i’ll show you where the worst damage is.“
she beckons thomas around to the back of the ship, where the three engines are housed. the rightmost small engine is, indeed, in sorry shape; probably needs replacing, honestly. thomas wonders if she could just rebuild that piece of kuat scrap; if she wanted to replace it with an off-model version then probably she’d have to make extensive modifications to the housing and connections. kuat drive yards doesn’t like anyone else playing with their toys, and the imperials usually like it that way.
"either you can totally fix this, or you’re about to gouge us to malastare and back,” blonde says, raising an eyebrow at thomas. thomas realizes that she’s grinning fit to split her face.
“i can totally fix this,” she says, “but i hope you’re not in a hurry.”
“we kind of are, actually,” blonde says apologetically. "you wanna come take a look at the hyperdrive? if we can at least get that working we can limp along on two engines for a while.“
"are you fucking serious,” thomas says.
“um… yes?” blonde says, leading thomas in through a makeshift ramp up to one of the airlocks. unorthodox, but much faster. thomas approves.
“you’re not getting anywhere with the engine like that. i’m surprised you made it here.”
“me, too,” blonde mutters, “but flare’s got a meeting to make, so i’ll pray for the best.”
“where is this 'flare,’” thomas demands. "are they in charge? is this their ship?“
a door whooshes open at a touch of blonde’s palm, revealing the engine room. from the size of it, the engines take up nearly half the ship. it must be one of those corvettes designed to be a very large fighter rather than a small capital ship.
"yeah, it’s flare’s ship. you wanna talk to captain moryne, though. you don’t wanna meet flare.”
“well now i want to meet flare,” thomas says. blonde huffs a little laugh, leading thomas down a ladder and around a spindly little ramp to the hyperdrive housing, under the main engine.
“we don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly,” blonde says. "nembus and i both took a look at it and it seems fine, but we’re not like. head mechanics or anything. i specialize in systems repairs.“
"hmm,” thomas says. "do you mind if i make a bit of a mess? i’m gonna have to pry some things open.“
"by all means. if you can figure out what the deal is, i’ll take the mess and thank you for it.”
thomas thinks she’ll wait and see about all that, but she’s already taking her holdout screwdriver to the paneling on either side of the hyperdrive. her escort makes an aborted sound of surprised protest when thomas squeezes in past the wiring and into the housing assembly itself. she doesn’t try to stop her, though, which is nice. thomas has been getting herself as deep into the parts of ships people think you’re not supposed to go in since she was barely in the double-digits. it’s just easier than dragging things out of their assemblies, and thomas is smaller enough than most humanoids to get away with it.
further back, the coupling that connects the hyperdrive to the ion engines warrants its own passageway, as it often does. it’s cramped; the coupling itself takes up most of the space. thomas flicks on the glowstick in the back of her screwdriver and shines it over the array in front of her.
“yep,” thomas calls. "your whole coupling connections back here are fried. backlash from the engine getting blown, probably.“
"what?” blonde protests. "that’s not supposed to happen!“
"well, nothing that breaks the ship is 'supposed’ to happen, really,” thomas says pragmatically. she squirms back out over the hyperdrive. "but this whole system is always a pretty delicate operation, and your ship is working off of three big engines instead of a six or nine smaller model, so even one of them going is gonna be a huge deal. i’d say i’d have to take the whole drive apart to check all the connections at this point.
“we-ell-l, fuck,” blonde says. "lemme guess. that would also take a lot of time.“
"you’re honestly better off canceling your meeting and getting all of this fixed before you try to go anywhere. you’re just begging to end up stranded with a third of your engines blown and unknown status on the main one. i haven’t even seen the reactor yet.”
a spike of fear comes off the woman at the mention of 'canceling your meeting.’ thomas isn’t sure what to do with that. she’s met ruthless captains before, and it makes her fucking mad as hell, but usually it makes the crew mad, too. there isn’t a lot of anger here, though– just that hopeless, creeping fear. it’s freaking thomas out a little, honestly.
“look, why don’t you let me talk to this 'flare,’” thomas says. "i’m your best bet for getting this fixed around here, so they can’t do anything to me.“
blonde bites her lip, the only outward sign of the unease she’s leaking. thomas thinks she’s picking up doubt and a hint of admiration, too.
"well,” she says at last, “it’s your funeral, i guess.”
“what the fuck,” thomas says, but blonde just turns and starts leading back into the ship proper.
they end up at what looks like a line of barracks doors, some left open and their occupants peering curiously out at thomas and her escort. blonde knocks at the one labeled aurek-one, ignoring the entrypad comm entirely. after a moment the door swishes open, revealing a tall, dark-skinned woman looking like she’s still half-asleep. thomas gets the sense that this is not 'flare.’
“captain,” blonde says, confirming that. "this is– um. i never actually caught your name.“
"thomas wellsey, junior, from the novak garage,” thomas supplies.
“right, she’s a mechanic, she says she can fix the drive and the engine, but, ah.” blonde darts a look back at thomas, who crosses her arms and puts her best stubborn look on her face. "she wants to talk to flare, sir. about the repair time.“
the captain turns her eyes to thomas, blank and considering. these people are honestly so dramatic, thomas feels like she’s part of a holoplay.
"i’ll find out if it’s a good time,” the captain says. "in the meantime, find lieutenant demora and you can discuss repair fees and logistics. he should be onboard right now.“
"yes, sir,” blonde says. she motions thomas down the hall; the captain passes them a moment later, pulling a jacket on over her sleep clothes.
“sorry,” blonde says after a moment, “i’m hannah soto, i’m a junior engineer– er, well, i was a junior. now that nembus and i are the only ones, well. you said your name was thomas?”
“yep,” thomas confirms. "how long since you defected? it’s rare to see an entire ship desert like this.“
hannah stiffens, suprised (probably at thomas’s bald reference to their incredibly obvious group imperial origins), then relaxes sheepishly.
"maybe a– a year or so now? and, well. flare pretty much commandeered the ship. there’s only maybe thirty of the original crew still on.”
“commandeered?” thomas repeats. how the fuck. who is this flare. how does one being just. convince an entire corvette’s worth of imperials “oh, this ship’s mine now, also we’re turning traitor, don’t bother trying to, you know, imprison or turn me in to be executed for treason, like you’re supposed to.”
hannah doesn’t seem to note thomas’s incredulity. she’s led them to cresh-three, and this time she casually palms the door open. a dumpy little man jumps and glares up at them.
“goddamnit, soto, will you stop overriding your signature onto all the doors? what’s a man got to do to keep you out?”
“learn how to reprogram your own access-pad,” hannah says, smug. "demora, this is wellsey, our probable only hope at a mechanic 'round here willing and able to fix our shit. captain said you two should talk rates.“
"oh thank god,” demora says, getting up and almost saluting thomas before he checks the hand and offers it for her to shake instead. "nice to meet you, ma'am. i’m lieutenant michael demora, nominally in charge of finances on this boat. please come in.“
"thomas wellsey, junior,” thomas says. "well met. i’m sure it will be a pleasure doing business." thomas is not technically supposed to set terms or sign contracts without checking in with mr. novak, who owns the garage. thomas is not sure if mr. novak would approve of taking this job at all, though, so thomas is basically doing it freelance. whatever.
demora has a small, low table that looks like it was made out of a floor section in the middle of his room, and he puts down cushions in lieu of chairs around it. thomas wonders where he came from; if this is a tradition of his home planet or one he picked up along the way and applied out of necessity.
thomas sits at the table with demora. hannah takes over demora’s bed and ignores his quick glare. there’s definitely something going on between them; thomas can feel the edges of it. but theoretically, she’ll have plenty of time to grill hannah about that later.
demora plainly has no idea what an outside repair job should cost. he’s still used to being able to take it back to a base or something, probably, where the cost is just part of fleet-level logistics. thomas could honestly charge whatever she wants. luckily for them, thomas is way more interested in the challenge of rebuilding their shattered engine than money. they don’t even know what a blaster bolt they’ve dodged.
demora is piecing together some rendition of a contract for the work when the door swooshes open again. demora looks up cautiously and then freezes for just a second. thomas has to twist around to see the newcomer.
she’s looking at said newcomer’s skirts. holy balls, this lady is tall. not quite human, by the looks of it, either. she’s staring down at thomas in a way that makes thomas feel pinned, like there’s physical weight to her gaze.
hannah squeaks and belatedly shoots to her feet after a moment. demora looks like he wants to follow suit but can’t quite decide whether to.
"in– flare, sir!” hannah says.
so this is the mysterious being everyone is so fucked up over? thomas doesn’t get it. sure, she’s tall as hell and exuding the kind of mild anger that thomas associates with people who might blow up at the most minor of provocation, but it’s not like that’s unusual.
“vyrr said you wanted to speak with me,” flare says plainly. she hasn’t even bothered to glance at the other two in the room.
“yeah,” thomas says. "i’ve been told you want to leave soon-ish? sorry, lady, it’s not gonna happen.“
the sense of anger ramps up a bit. thomas chooses to ignore it. she’s always been good at playing with fire.
"look, you’ve got an entire engine caput, unknown possibilities of damage in the other ones, and you wanna try getting your hyperdrive going on that? it’s just not going to happen. not without adding a, like, sixty to seventy percent probability of death-by-space-travel onto your entire ship.”
there’s a long silence after that, and only demora’s frantic shushing motions in the corner of thomas’s vision stops her from laying out the facts even more clearly if she needs to.
“i… see,” flare says, the slightest of frowns pulling at her face. "very well then. i will see to the schedule changes. tell vyrr the time estimates when you have them.“
she sweeps out in a swirl of skirts and long, tangled red hair. thomas makes a face as the door closes behind her.
"the fuck,” she says.
demora and hannah seem to let out a breath they’ve been holding the entire short encounter. the weight of their relief staggers thomas. there’s nothing normal about this whole damn ship, but that’s not normal.
“well, um,” hannah starts.
“flare hasn’t always been known for being so reasonable,” demora supplies as hannah falters. "some of us have had a better time getting used to her than others.“
"should i worry about this if i’m gonna be here for the next while?” thomas demands.
“no, no, you should be fine,” demora assures her hurriedly.
“she’s much better since we picked up those merc drifters a year ago,” hannah says.
“but really, for the most part she stays out of the way. you probably won’t even see her again,” demora says.
somehow they both feel like they’re definitely hiding something, but what the hell. thomas is undeniably curious as hell, but it’s not her problem.
imperials. maybe the fear is bred into them somehow.
“anyway. let’s get back to the contract, then, since it looks like we’ll have time to actually do what we need!”
=====================
nembus (who turns out to be the nervous human man who came to the shop) and hannah are the ship’s only mechanical engineers, and they basically put themselves at thomas’s full disposal as soon as she makes it clear she knows what she’s doing. what thomas is actually doing is making a great deal up as she goes along, but they don’t need to know that.
around day three of scrapping and rebuilding the poor starboard engine, flirty mctogrutapants comes around. thomas is once again instantly struck by how pretty they are, and once again shakes it off, annoyed with herself. just because she hasn’t gotten laid in weeks... there are more important things to do. none of them are dhyneera.
“dhyneera!” nembus calls, wiping his forehead with an arm that had unfortunately just been deep in the soot-stained depths of the main fuel-line. thomas and hannah snicker at his misfortune together. serves him right for laughing when they came down from the turbines.
“you all look like you’re in desperate need of a shower. and also maybe dinner.” ah. dhyneera is their daily dinner break reminder.
“is it that time already?” hannah asks, genuinely surprised. the floodlights thomas had borrowed from the garage are very effective. thomas is used to losing track of time that way, though.
"thank god,” nembus says. "i am sick to death of retooling fuel lines."
"only way we’ll get these filters in there, buddy, unless you wanna place an order with kdy," thomas says. nembus groans theatrically.
“she’s a slave driver. dhyneera, this is all your fault.”
“oh?” dhyneera says, looking honestly innocent, despite dripping with amusement underneath. "i seem to recall you offering no protest to hiring her, lisapp."
"i’m lodging the formal protest now,” nembus whines. hannah finishes the connection she’s soldering and replaces the iron in its safety catch with a show of finality.
“you’re staying for dinner, right, thomas?”
“yeah, nah, i was done trying to get home after the first night, takes way too long. i’m yours for the duration,” thomas confirms.
“did you stay on the ship last night?” dhyneera asks curiously.
“yeah,” hannah answers for her. "i put her up in the spare bunk in my room. kasa doesn’t mind; it’s not like she even knew until the morning. girl sleeps like granite."
"huh,” is all dhyneera says.
“flip you for first shower,” hannah says, offering thomas a credcoin.
“hannah, the showers in here are communal,” thomas says.
“spoilsport,” hannah sniffs.
======================
thomas wakes in the middle of the night, as she often does: with a sudden, intoxicating rush of inspiration. she’s in the bunk above hannah, but it’s easy enough to climb down without waking her– the things are secured to the wall, as most spacefaring bedding is. thomas only bothers to grab her work gloves and hurries carefully out of the room, making her way to the engine room, where her tools and materials are stored.
she’s waist-deep in the intake system when something suddenly alerts her that she has company. when she manages to tear her attention off the metering valves she’s adjusting, dhyneera is sitting on the edge of the nearest catwalk, watching her.
“the fuck,” thomas says, dizzy with lack of sleep now that she’s been startled out of her midnight-oil hyperfocus. "i’m not sabotaging anything, i’m just reregulating your combustion for the sublights, okay. this shit is so out of tune i’m surprised the empire gets anywhere on it.“
"to be entirely fair, i think it’s been more than a year since they’ve had any real maintenance done in here,” dhyneera says. thomas cannot contain the teakettle sound of frustration and outrage she makes at this very thought.
“how are any of you still alive?” she demands.
“good question,” dhyneera says thoughtfully. there’s something about that kind of cheerful resignation to a situation that should be easily fixed that grates on thomas’s nerves. it seems like there’s an uncanny lot of that going on with this ship.
“the sublights on a capital ship this size should be checked at least every six months,” thomas says. "ideally it should be every three months by the onboard mechanic, and yearly by a team, but lord knows no spacer out there has ever listened to that, especially not you mercenary flyboys."
"i think they’re used to having it checked whenever they went back to an imperial station,” dhyneera says, which actually aligns perfectly with the same sort of thought thomas had had at the beginning.
“okay,” thomas allows. "i guess that’s fair." hannah and nembus did say that they weren’t actually qualified to be the head engineers on the ship, after all.
"it’s not like anyone here is actually willing to step up and tell flare about this kind of shit, either,” dhyneera adds.
“what the fuck,” thomas says for what feels like the millionth time. this whole overdramatic, juvenile performative fear of the ship’s goddamn captain (or whatever) is driving thomas fucking nuts. it’s so fucking melodramatic, do these people even see themselves?
“you done down there, then? or were you just planning on starting your day at one in the morning?”
thomas checks her chrono– three-forty-two. she’s not done by a long shot, but at least she won’t be able to forget where she was going with it now, even if she goes back to sleep. if her brain will even let her go back to sleep.
“ugh,” she answers in lieu of an actual decision, setting her screwdriver down to rub her knuckles over her eyes.
“here, lemme get you out of there,” dhyneera says. thomas looks up, a little surprised; dhyneera doesn’t look like he could actually lift her from the height of the catwalks, but then, thomas is pretty light, and a lot of nonhumans are stronger than they look.
dhyneera doesn’t offer her his hand, though, just holds it out, palm flat, cat-green eyes narrowed, and thomas can feel his concentraton before– something– drags her up by the air, her feet leaving the ground, her skin prickling all over like she stuck her finger in an ingnition socket. thomas stifles the urge to shriek, mostly. until she’s been pulled completely through the air, not quite two meters to the catwalk above, at which point she feels totally justified in hyperventilating a bit once her feet are back on solid steel.
“what the everloving actual fuck!!”
dhyneera is laughing at her. it’s in the eyes, mostly.
“that’s why everyone is too scared to report to flare,” he says. thomas nearly shrieks again out of pure indignation.
“the fuck does that mean?”
“you ever hear of darth vader?” dhyneera asks instead of explaining like a normal person. thomas gives him a look that she is sure can sum up her feelings on a question like that quite well. like, seriously, she’s correllian, how could she have missed knowing who the empire’s top enforcers are?
“okay,” dhyneera says. "darth vader trained flare.“
thomas squints at dhyneera a little, trying to tell what the hell he’s trying to pull. but against all odds, he seems to be serious.
"so– what?” she asks.
“so that thing i just did to you? she can do that, a lot more, and a lot more easily,” dhyneera says. "so the crew that’s been with her since she mutinied and killed a whole bunch of them, they’re kind of understandably apprehensive about talking to her.“
"god, it’s like i’m in a holo,” thomas complains. "this shit isn’t supposed to happen in real life.“
dhyneera grins at her, enough to show fangs, and thomas abruptly, desperately wants to lick them. fuck, of all the inconvenient fucking times for her sex drive to kick back in with a vengeance. thomas blames the three-a.m. adrenaline surge, on top of the fact that she hasn’t been laid in basically forever.
"mind you, i’m not saying all this to make you scared. i’m just as fed up with that attitude as you are. i’m just saying, they’re not all lily-livered alarmists, there’s actually a reason they’re all like that. so don’t judge them too hard.”
“why does it matter?” thomas asks. "i’m just the mechanic. who cares if i judge them all to malastare and back?“ ahah. she’s spent too long here already– that’s hannah’s phrase.
"you’re not just fixing the obvious problems,” dhyneera says in an unnervingly certain sort of way. "you’re refitting the whole thing, when you don’t even have to. you’re exceptional. you don’t have to keep working on swoop bikes and junkers, you know. anyone would be glad to have you, if they knew what you could do. we’re just lucky to have been the first to pick you up.“
"are you– are you offering me a job? can you even do that?” thomas says incredulously.
“you work well with lisapp and soto,” dhyneera says.
“well, yeah,” thomas says, “they actually respect me, instead of being threatened.”
“i’m guessing that happens a lot?”
thomas just scoffs in answer. dhyneera grins at her again, and this time it sends a pulse of heat clawing straight down between thomas’s legs. in the red dimness of the night-cycle lights, backlit by thomas’s single work light still on, dhyneera looks stark, otherworldly, wild. it’s the stripes on his montrals and lekku, the white markings glowing.
“they probably wouldn’t mind if you took over, honestly. i think it would actually be a relief. nobody who stayed on here is the imperial-ambitious type– those all either left or flare wiped 'em out, as far as i can tell,” dhyneera says.
“you are. offering me a job. holy shit,” thomas says. it takes effort not to let on that she is so suddenly, desperately turned on, but it’s not like this is the first time that’s happened.
“there has to be some kind of perks to being flare’s sort-of apprentice. being pretty much outside the ship’s hierarchy is definitely one. all that military ranking nonsense gives me hives.”
“this thing is a piece of scrap, and i’m gonna rebuild every part of it,” thomas says warningly. dhyneera just grins some more at her. fuck, thank god he can’t know what that’s doing to her.
“you’re welcome to it. sell it to flare and you can do whatever you want around here, honestly.”
“what do you all even do?” thomas asks.
“mercenary contracts, mostly. ambushes, pirating, defense. some smuggling on the side. i like that you’re asking about that even before what the pay is like.”
oh, yeah. thomas had forgotten. "it can’t be worse than what i’m getting for part-time at the garage,“ she says, deflecting. between her mother’s family and her father’s fortune, it’s not like the money has ever been a problem. just that she’s so goddamn bored.
if nothing else, living with a crew straight out of a holomovie promises to probably be anything but boring.
"you’re very pretty,” dhyneera says, which is such a stunning departure from their previous subject and into thomas’s fantasies that she’s honestly not sure if she’s just imagining that.
“what?” she asks, just to check.
“sorry–” dhyneera says, “you’re, um. projecting. a lot. also you obviously didn’t appreciate camp flirting, so i thought i’d try sincerity.”
“ooohh, fuck,” thomas says, feeling her face get hot. "i’m so sorry, i don’t have like– any control over the pheromones, i’m not even fully half zeltron–"
"no, that’s fine, really, i mean. i have definitely been after you since day one. you just seemed uninterested until– now.” dhyneera bites the tip of his tongue, hands creeping toward stroking one lek in way that thomas recognizes as a nervous gesture from her few twi'lek acquaintances.
“i make a point not to be anything but annoyed with customers,” thomas admits, very glad that between freckles, her vividly pink skin tone, and the lighting, it’d be very hard to tell that she’s blushing furiously. "otherwise the number of times i would have banged someone over that desk would have gotten me fired.“
dhyneera laughs, bright and cheerful and slightly out of breath, until thomas is smiling along with him. he’s still chuckling to himself when he reaches for thomas’s hand. he’s very warm. thomas shivers despite herself, clenching her legs together in a way that hopefully isn’t too obvious. although, honestly, so what if it is? dhyneera is an over-the-top flirt verging on jackassery, but he also feels totally sincere in his actual liking and attraction. and he is very pretty.
"do you wear mascara?” thomas finds herself asking, close enough for the first time to really register dhyneera’s outrageously long, thick eyelashes.
dhyneera breaks out laughing again, coming in close to thomas until she can feel his heat all over. oohhh, fuck. he’s shorter than his montrals make him seem, a bare handful of centimeters above thomas.
“nope,” he says. "only eyeliner on occasion, not that i’ve had occasion for a long time. yours are just as bad, though. i just couldn’t tell before since they’re so light.“
thomas fixes her face in an overdone pout-and-glare just for the principle of the thing. this close she can feel it when dhyneera vibrates with unvocalized laughter.
"can i kiss you?” he asks, a breath above a whisper.
“god motherfucking damn,” thomas says, and feels absolutely no compunctions at this point about crushing herself to him and sliding up on tiptoes to devour his mouth. dhyneera tastes raw and metallic with a hint of caff, and he bites, just enough to make those fangs felt. thomas whines into the kiss and grinds shamelessly against dhyneera until he shoves his leg between hers to give her some real friction. thomas drops a hand to rub the heel of her palm over her mound, choking on the desperate little sounds that want to escape her.
“whoa,” dhyneera says, projecting cool, soothing patience despite the undertone of reciprocal arousal thomas can feel from him. "hello, firecracker, zero to hyperspace much?“
"fuck youuuu,” thomas whines. "it has been weeks since i got off. weeks!"
"um, wow. someone needs to learn about the wonders of toys. and hands,” dhyneera says, still laughing at her.
“who has time?” thomas demands. certainly not her. if she had her druthers she’d be able to focus on machinery without such frequent lapses of attention, but nobody gets to pick who they’re born as.
dhyneera bats her hand away to slip his into her underwear, made easy by the fact that she’s not actually wearing pants. thomas is briefly, overwhelmingly glad that she hadn’t bothered to really get dressed as his fingers find her clit in a starburst of pleasure, rubbing in maddeningly slow circles before he slips two fingers further down and crooks them up into her.
“oohhh, fuck,” thomas groans, rocking forward into that frustratingly shallow stroking. dhyneera hovers over her, close enough that they’re almost kissing again, watching her face. "fuck, please,“ she manages to add. dhyneera hooks his fingers up into her with startling strength, right along that sweet spot and stroking harder until thomas is overwhelmed and coming, wringing down viciously hard on him.
"kriffing hell,” dhyneera whispers. thomas can only whimper, overdone by the continued gentle stroking of his fingers against her tightness, keyed up and oversensitive in the wake of coming so fast. finally he drags his fingers out of her, leaving her feeling empty and cold in the absence of his warmth.
“you wanna come back to my room?” dhyneera asks, leering cheerfully, comically. "i’ll show you my dick collection. you can pick the one you like best.“
"how are you even real, dhyneera?” thomas asks, still not quite catching her breath.
“kaeon,” he says “kae for short, if i like you,” he flashes his real grin at her and thomas is actually allowed to groan and shiver over that now. "whichever you prefer.“
"i prefer you sweeping me off my feet and fucking me senseless anytime soon, honestly,” thomas admits. somehow she is still not quite expecting dhyneera – kaeon – to comply.
which he does.
to the letter.
====================
thomas wakes up slowly, warm and muzzy in an indistinctly familiar way. the swoosh of the door opening brings her back to full consciousness in a hurry, though. kaeon’s arm is looped gently over her waist. no doubt her hair is tangled in his lekku. therefore, first jolt of interruption notwithstanding, thomas declines to move. after all, if kaeon wasn’t just fronting about hiring her, they’re crewmates now, not contractor and customer, so thomas is perfectly within her rights to continue her well-fucked languor in kaeon’s bed.
“oh my god,” an unfamiliar girl’s voice chirps. "really, kae? really? in our room?“
"it’s not like you were here,” kaeon says sleepily into thomas’s shoulder. thomas is vaguely amused at this lackluster reaction to someone catching them post-flagrante-delicto. also she desperately wants to go back to sleep, but if they can finish the retooling today, they can start retrofitting some of the replacement parts they’re fabricating.
the apparent roommate makes a noise of protest when thomas sits up uncaring of the blankets or common concepts of modesty.
“what if i had come back?” roommate demands.
“it was like four in the morning, kia, it was kind of obvious you were out for the night,” kaeon says.
“glad as i am to be the source of this discord,” thomas interrupts their byplay. the bunk mattress vibrates very faintly with kaeon’s laughter as he sits up as well, miraculously mostly not tangled in thomas’s hair.
“sorry,” he says. "thomas, this is kiorae demsharr, the nominal other half of my dynamic duo. kia, meet our new head mechanic, thomas wellsey."
"junior,” thomas automatically supplies. "second of the name, you know."
"okay,” kiorae says in a picture-perfect tone of long suffering. "nice to meet you. please be gone or at least dressed when i come back." she shoots a meaningful glare at kaeon, somehow managing to avoid quite looking at thomas, and turns on her heel to make the door slide open for her again.
"well,” kaeon says, “that went well.”
“good fucking morning,” thomas says, and then they’re both dissolved into ungraceful snorting laughter.
“aw, kriff,” kaeon sighs. "i’m going back to bed. it’s too early after late-shifting.“
"that’s what caff is for," thomas says primly, searching the floor under the bunk for her underwear and shirt.
“has anyone told you you’re a workaholic?” kaeon asks.
“actually, my mother despairs that i’m not getting anything done ever because i’m too busy 'tinkering,’” thomas says. oh, there’s her shirt. kaeon apparently tossed it onto the top bunk. she pulls it on and considers whether she cares about covering up on the way back to hannah’s room. not really. it’s crazy how different things are after kaeon’s offer. it feels like thomas can actually just. be herself, instead of having to be professional, and yet still get to keep working on her projects. it’s exhilarating in a way that thomas absolutely did not expect.
caught up in the borderline mania of newfound freedom, thomas swoops in and kisses kaeon good morning, licking over his fangs until he growls faintly into her mouth.
“thank you,” she says, and jogs out the door before he can ask her exactly what for.
two people pass her in the hall, but only one double-takes, and thomas isn’t even sure if that’s for her attire or her unknown identity. it didn’t sound like this was the first time kaeon had brought someone to his berth on this ship, so it could be either really.
hannah is gone already but kasa looks up from her caff and datapad on her bunk when thomas palms the door open.
“are you okay?” kasa asks, frowning. thomas blinks at her, caught off-guard by the question.
“um? yes? so okay,” thomas says, and kasa’s expression clears back into what thomas has already gathered is her usual morning grump.
“if anyone on this ship– or not, even– had you coming back in here like that against your will, i’d turn them in to flare,” kasa says. thomas is suddenly much more acutely aware of her lack of pants and collection of probable hickies.
“awww,” she croons, “kasa, i’m so touched. that’s so vicious.”
“damn right it is,” kasa says, pleased. "now dish; who’d you seduce in three goddamn days on this ship while you were off drowning in motor oil the whole time?"
"one, i will have you know that motor oil is a very attractive look, and two, it was kaeon dhyneera, and i had him seduced the minute he walked into my shop,” thomas says. this is the most conversation she’s had with kasa in the short time she’s stayed here; she’s pleased to find that she likes the human girl. she’s unexpectedly gossipy.
“does being a zeltron count as cheating?” kasa asks.
“i don’t know,” thomas says, “kaeon didn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes a lot of convincing, though. and i’m less than half zeltron, anyway.”
“counts,” kasa declares. "but probably not as cheating, in this case. kaeon just usually goes for guys, in my records of him, is all.“
"huh,” thomas says. "i wouldn’t have guessed. maybe zeltron heritage is cheating, a little, in that case. i don’t whammy people on purpose, though."
"remember, i will always sic flare on somebody,” kasa says, “for values of always that include however long you’re here.”
“that might be a lot longer than you think,” thomas says.
“repairs going that badly, huh?”
“it’s not my fault that kuat likes to cut corners and add them somewhere dumb in their assembly,” thomas sniffs. better to be cagey until she has a chance to talk to hannah and nembus about it, since essentially she’d be their direct boss. even though a part of her knows that she’s going to go through with this, come hell or high water and this whole boatload of melodramatic ex-imperials.
she’s going to need to get all of her stuff from home, or at least however much is spacefaring feasible. there’s no way to make that subtle. and technically she should really tell mr. novak something instead of just vanishing into the ether, no matter how much less fun that is.
kasa goes back to her datapad while thomas gets dressed and goes to hunt down some caff and possibly breakfast in the mess.
“there you are,” hannah says when thomas collapses into a seat at a table across from her and nembus. "i misplaced you during the night. it was very discomfiting.“
"sorry. got sudden midnight inspiration and couldn’t go back to sleep,” thomas says. hannah snorts her opinion of this.
“what on earth could entice you to actually go do more work in the middle of the night?” nembus asks, with a sort of fascinated incredulity.
“all of your meters were fucked. that’s how the blowout managed to crisp your hyperdrive connection– your reactor draw was way too high,” thomas explains, excited all over again. "if i can get them all set just right, it should reduce fuel usage to like, two-thirds what it is right now."
"holy shit,” hannah says, and nembus nods along, wide-eyed. "can we keep you, what the fuck."
"about that, actually,” thomas says. she couldn’t have asked for a better segue. "so while i was readjusting meters, i had a very interesting encounter with one kaeon dhyneera."
"oh gods,” nembus says, slapping a hand over his face. "you didn’t kill him and throw him in the reactor, did you? demsharr will go on the warpath."
"what? no,” thomas says, “just. does he actually have the authority to offer people jobs around here? because he might have implied that he thought i should. well, sign on, basically.”
“holy shit,” hannah repeats. "are you serious? and you’re actually considering it?"
"i honestly just wanted to make sure you guys would be okay with it,” thomas admits. "i’ve been needing to get out of that garage for a long time."
"does that mean we could slow down on this repair job?” nembus asks.
“haha, no,” thomas says. "sorry, i have so many things i would want to change around here, i haven’t even figured out what they all are yet.“
"well, fuck,” nembus says, but seems more resignedly dismayed than opposed to the idea.
“dude, you’re willing to talk to flare for us and keep the ship in actually safe working order? 'okay,' nothing, you’d be a fucking godsend,” hannah says.
“aww, you guys,” thomas says, hiding in her caff mug as though that could disguise how actually ecstatic that vote of confidence makes her. “you’re sure you don’t mind that i’d be basically taking over? i know i’m younger than both of you and i’m kind of pushy.”
“you’ve, uh. never been on an extended spacefaring expediction, i’m guessing?” nembus cuts in.
“no-ooo,” thomas says slowly. she’s never really been off correllia, other than a few trips to visit her mother’s family.
“it’s terrifying,” nembus says flatly, which is so one hundred percent not what thomas expected him to say. "for the last year or so, anytime anything at all went wrong, hannah and i have had to deal with it, which puts us basically between the ship and being spaced. and we usually have almost no idea what to do. we’re specialists; we’re meant to be part of a team of ten, for efficiency. i’m a reactor maintenance engineer.“
"i’m systems– electrical, life support, water,” hannah puts in.
“so yeah, the hyperdrive, repulsorlifts, sublights? all pretty important, right? yeah, nah, i’ve got the most basic working knowledge and that’s it.” nembus chuckles weakly to himself.
“as far as i can tell, you know about everything,” hannah says. “that’s fucking crazy. that’s definitely head engineer territory.”
“actually… i’m pretty much just making stuff up until it works,” thomas admits, in the interest of full discretion.
“stars,” nembus says. "suddenly so much makes sense. but no, really that’s where i was originally going, about space travel. it doesn’t matter how old you are, when you’re ten minutes from getting blown out of the sky and all you need is to jury-rig the shield generator to last one more hit before the hyperdrive engages.“
"oh,” thomas says, immediately trying to come up with ways to get a dead shield generator running again in a hurry. "well, when you put it that way.“
"but also, to answer your original question, yes,” hannah says. "if kaeon asked you on, then it might as well be official. all you have to do is talk to captain moryne and michael about contracts and money and stuff.“
"hey,” nembus says, “if it’s your ship, too, now, do we still have to pay you to fix it?”
word count: 7800
fandom: star wars (post rotj, pre tfa, entirely oc-centric)
summary: wanted: shipboard engineer.
originally posted 3/8/17
=======================
thomas is bored.
oh, existentially, sure, yeah, like, she’s totally done with this city and this back-of-nowhere garage job and her mother laying down the pressure to dress nicer and come to all these society parties and maybe get into politics or business or something. her mother comes from a long line of core-world entrepreneurs or something. thomas is told that she takes after her father: zeltron mutt, tried and true corellian rogue, dead before thomas was born. all thomas has of him is his name and his alien heritage.
but really, thomas is just bored right now. it’s a slow day at the shop. the only things they have left are some sputtering swoops and a tiny light freighter waiting to be picked up. thomas is taking apart a chrono on the counter just to have something to do with her hands, that’s how desperate she is.
the bell over the door at the other end of the garage chimes. thomas stills the instant, eager jump of her heart, telling herself that it’s probably just the swoop-bikers finally here to pick up their rides. no sense getting her hopes up. this garage never gets the interesting work. thomas needs a new job.
a human man and a togruta of indeterminate gender edge round the freighter. they’re both smallish; thomas doesn’t have to look up very far at them at all. she absently notes that the man probably used to be imperial: he still dresses like he misses having a uniform. the togruta is all in tight-fitting black with a long duster over it, setting off their dusky orange-brown skin and white-and-tan lekku very nicely. rowr.
calm down, girl. remember, customers are out-of-bounds.
“well hell-o, gorgeous,” the togruta says, ambling over to the counter like they’ve been here before and leaning over on one elbow. thomas takes a sharp breath and tries not to let her heart race. they’ve got the cutest white markings around their eyes, with little lines running down to their chin. thomas bites her lip and then tries to stop that. customers, she reminds herself.
“what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” the togruta continues, and thomas sits up straighter abruptly, the high stool she’s sitting on letting her at least look them straight in their golden-green eyes. flirting is one thing, but anything that implies she doesn’t belong in a mechanic's job makes her touchy as hell.
“hey, buddy,” she starts hotly, and they hold up their hands in immediate surrender.
“sorry, that’s a bad come-on,” they say. which isn’t really the problem, but thomas will let them have it.
“dhyneera,” the human sighs. dhyneera backs off the counter to nudge the human forward. thomas wonders if they’ve even got a real problem. probably just want someone to help read their meters; that would be just her luck.
“um,” the human starts. his nervousness grates on thomas, keying her up along with him. "does your business service non-correllian makes?“
"of course,” thomas says. "we’re not associated with the shipyards. we’re an independent business.”
“yes, well,” the human starts.
“that’s what the last three said, at first,” dhyneera finishes. the human gives a rueful, nervous little chuckle.
“we’ve got a, uhm. a kdy raider-two corvette with. ah. considerable damage, i don’t know why the hyperdrive isn’t working, it’s not even damaged itself, but uhm. anyway. one of the engines is definitely blown. and everyone keeps telling us they don’t have parts.” he cuts off abruptly and looks down at the counter, then back at the togruta.
“that’s the shape of things,” dhyneera says.
thomas is no longer bored.
“well,” she says, jumping off the stool. "where are you docked?“
"oh thank fuck,” the human says, and then colors until he almost matches thomas. "this was the last garage that came up on search in the sector.“
"have you just been looking for someone to take a look at your ship all day?” thomas asks, curious.
“try more like three rotations,” dhyneera says. "there are a lot of ship-fixers on correllia. anyway, we’re docked over at the cherek-six-six port. when do you think someone can come have a look?“
thomas is still chewing on "ship-fixers.” she wonders if dhyneera is trying to get a rise out of her.
“right now, if you want,” thomas says. "i’m not surprised you’re having trouble with a kdy ship in this part of town. you wanna be trying the black market in the underground or out past the moons for that.“
"well,” dhyneera says with an overdone wink, “something told me to try up here first.”
thomas wishes dhyneera would stop trying to distract her when he’s already so goddamn pretty. there’s things to be done and also she is on the clock.
“let’s go see your fucked-up kuat junker, then,” thomas says, leading them out the right door this time and flipping the sign to ‘closed.’ the doors auto-lock with a buzz. thomas can’t help but preen a bit over the miasma of fuming offense coming off of the human over thomas calling their ship a junker. maybe she’s striking back at the wrong target, but oh well.
the cherek-six-six port is forever away and the customers came by foot. thomas swipes her airtram pass for all three of them. she’s not walking all the way over there, no way.
they’re only stopped by planetside corsec once, which is sweet for a cross-city ride. the human’s anxiety goes so high for that that thomas is honestly kind of ill over it right along with him, and wishes she’d just sat next to dhyneera, uncomfortable and inappropriate attraction or not. like, fuck, dude, it’s just corsec. is it an imperial thing to be so afraid of random inspections? thomas is so glad she’s correllian, sometimes.
their ship is instantly recognizable at the port among the usual flock of CR-90s and YT-serieses. it looks like a goddamn tiny star destroyer. thomas tries not to start laughing. it’s like the toy versions of pet anoobas that one of her mother’s friends carry around in their purse.
“oh, kdy,” thomas says under her breath. "never change.“
the boarding ramp into the hold is open, with three people standing (one sitting, really) guard by it. they’re all human; two men and a girl. one of the men is tall and sturdy-looking; the other is average in every way that thomas can tell. the girl is a stocky blonde who looks like she bathes in engine grease. thomas likes her already.
"found another person who’s at least willing to take a look,” dhyneera calls.
“oh, good,” the sturdy one says. "i was beginning to think you’d swanned off forever.“
"what does 'swanned’ mean?” dhyneera says curiously. tall and sturdy stops, looking confused.
“um. i guess it’s based on this bird from my home planet. migratory. mates for life. very showy. so it denotes both leaving, and leaving with another person, and doing so in a dramatic manner.”
“huh,” average says. "i’ve totally heard you say that before, but it never even occurred to me to ask you what it meant specifically. you’re surprisingly eloquent about words, perth.“
"that is why i love perth the best,” dhyneera says.
“no, you love me the best because we can whine about pronouns together,” perth corrects, implacable. thomas revises her ideas about said pronouns quickly and guiltily.
“come on,” blonde says. "i’ll show you where the worst damage is.“
she beckons thomas around to the back of the ship, where the three engines are housed. the rightmost small engine is, indeed, in sorry shape; probably needs replacing, honestly. thomas wonders if she could just rebuild that piece of kuat scrap; if she wanted to replace it with an off-model version then probably she’d have to make extensive modifications to the housing and connections. kuat drive yards doesn’t like anyone else playing with their toys, and the imperials usually like it that way.
"either you can totally fix this, or you’re about to gouge us to malastare and back,” blonde says, raising an eyebrow at thomas. thomas realizes that she’s grinning fit to split her face.
“i can totally fix this,” she says, “but i hope you’re not in a hurry.”
“we kind of are, actually,” blonde says apologetically. "you wanna come take a look at the hyperdrive? if we can at least get that working we can limp along on two engines for a while.“
"are you fucking serious,” thomas says.
“um… yes?” blonde says, leading thomas in through a makeshift ramp up to one of the airlocks. unorthodox, but much faster. thomas approves.
“you’re not getting anywhere with the engine like that. i’m surprised you made it here.”
“me, too,” blonde mutters, “but flare’s got a meeting to make, so i’ll pray for the best.”
“where is this 'flare,’” thomas demands. "are they in charge? is this their ship?“
a door whooshes open at a touch of blonde’s palm, revealing the engine room. from the size of it, the engines take up nearly half the ship. it must be one of those corvettes designed to be a very large fighter rather than a small capital ship.
"yeah, it’s flare’s ship. you wanna talk to captain moryne, though. you don’t wanna meet flare.”
“well now i want to meet flare,” thomas says. blonde huffs a little laugh, leading thomas down a ladder and around a spindly little ramp to the hyperdrive housing, under the main engine.
“we don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly,” blonde says. "nembus and i both took a look at it and it seems fine, but we’re not like. head mechanics or anything. i specialize in systems repairs.“
"hmm,” thomas says. "do you mind if i make a bit of a mess? i’m gonna have to pry some things open.“
"by all means. if you can figure out what the deal is, i’ll take the mess and thank you for it.”
thomas thinks she’ll wait and see about all that, but she’s already taking her holdout screwdriver to the paneling on either side of the hyperdrive. her escort makes an aborted sound of surprised protest when thomas squeezes in past the wiring and into the housing assembly itself. she doesn’t try to stop her, though, which is nice. thomas has been getting herself as deep into the parts of ships people think you’re not supposed to go in since she was barely in the double-digits. it’s just easier than dragging things out of their assemblies, and thomas is smaller enough than most humanoids to get away with it.
further back, the coupling that connects the hyperdrive to the ion engines warrants its own passageway, as it often does. it’s cramped; the coupling itself takes up most of the space. thomas flicks on the glowstick in the back of her screwdriver and shines it over the array in front of her.
“yep,” thomas calls. "your whole coupling connections back here are fried. backlash from the engine getting blown, probably.“
"what?” blonde protests. "that’s not supposed to happen!“
"well, nothing that breaks the ship is 'supposed’ to happen, really,” thomas says pragmatically. she squirms back out over the hyperdrive. "but this whole system is always a pretty delicate operation, and your ship is working off of three big engines instead of a six or nine smaller model, so even one of them going is gonna be a huge deal. i’d say i’d have to take the whole drive apart to check all the connections at this point.
“we-ell-l, fuck,” blonde says. "lemme guess. that would also take a lot of time.“
"you’re honestly better off canceling your meeting and getting all of this fixed before you try to go anywhere. you’re just begging to end up stranded with a third of your engines blown and unknown status on the main one. i haven’t even seen the reactor yet.”
a spike of fear comes off the woman at the mention of 'canceling your meeting.’ thomas isn’t sure what to do with that. she’s met ruthless captains before, and it makes her fucking mad as hell, but usually it makes the crew mad, too. there isn’t a lot of anger here, though– just that hopeless, creeping fear. it’s freaking thomas out a little, honestly.
“look, why don’t you let me talk to this 'flare,’” thomas says. "i’m your best bet for getting this fixed around here, so they can’t do anything to me.“
blonde bites her lip, the only outward sign of the unease she’s leaking. thomas thinks she’s picking up doubt and a hint of admiration, too.
"well,” she says at last, “it’s your funeral, i guess.”
“what the fuck,” thomas says, but blonde just turns and starts leading back into the ship proper.
they end up at what looks like a line of barracks doors, some left open and their occupants peering curiously out at thomas and her escort. blonde knocks at the one labeled aurek-one, ignoring the entrypad comm entirely. after a moment the door swishes open, revealing a tall, dark-skinned woman looking like she’s still half-asleep. thomas gets the sense that this is not 'flare.’
“captain,” blonde says, confirming that. "this is– um. i never actually caught your name.“
"thomas wellsey, junior, from the novak garage,” thomas supplies.
“right, she’s a mechanic, she says she can fix the drive and the engine, but, ah.” blonde darts a look back at thomas, who crosses her arms and puts her best stubborn look on her face. "she wants to talk to flare, sir. about the repair time.“
the captain turns her eyes to thomas, blank and considering. these people are honestly so dramatic, thomas feels like she’s part of a holoplay.
"i’ll find out if it’s a good time,” the captain says. "in the meantime, find lieutenant demora and you can discuss repair fees and logistics. he should be onboard right now.“
"yes, sir,” blonde says. she motions thomas down the hall; the captain passes them a moment later, pulling a jacket on over her sleep clothes.
“sorry,” blonde says after a moment, “i’m hannah soto, i’m a junior engineer– er, well, i was a junior. now that nembus and i are the only ones, well. you said your name was thomas?”
“yep,” thomas confirms. "how long since you defected? it’s rare to see an entire ship desert like this.“
hannah stiffens, suprised (probably at thomas’s bald reference to their incredibly obvious group imperial origins), then relaxes sheepishly.
"maybe a– a year or so now? and, well. flare pretty much commandeered the ship. there’s only maybe thirty of the original crew still on.”
“commandeered?” thomas repeats. how the fuck. who is this flare. how does one being just. convince an entire corvette’s worth of imperials “oh, this ship’s mine now, also we’re turning traitor, don’t bother trying to, you know, imprison or turn me in to be executed for treason, like you’re supposed to.”
hannah doesn’t seem to note thomas’s incredulity. she’s led them to cresh-three, and this time she casually palms the door open. a dumpy little man jumps and glares up at them.
“goddamnit, soto, will you stop overriding your signature onto all the doors? what’s a man got to do to keep you out?”
“learn how to reprogram your own access-pad,” hannah says, smug. "demora, this is wellsey, our probable only hope at a mechanic 'round here willing and able to fix our shit. captain said you two should talk rates.“
"oh thank god,” demora says, getting up and almost saluting thomas before he checks the hand and offers it for her to shake instead. "nice to meet you, ma'am. i’m lieutenant michael demora, nominally in charge of finances on this boat. please come in.“
"thomas wellsey, junior,” thomas says. "well met. i’m sure it will be a pleasure doing business." thomas is not technically supposed to set terms or sign contracts without checking in with mr. novak, who owns the garage. thomas is not sure if mr. novak would approve of taking this job at all, though, so thomas is basically doing it freelance. whatever.
demora has a small, low table that looks like it was made out of a floor section in the middle of his room, and he puts down cushions in lieu of chairs around it. thomas wonders where he came from; if this is a tradition of his home planet or one he picked up along the way and applied out of necessity.
thomas sits at the table with demora. hannah takes over demora’s bed and ignores his quick glare. there’s definitely something going on between them; thomas can feel the edges of it. but theoretically, she’ll have plenty of time to grill hannah about that later.
demora plainly has no idea what an outside repair job should cost. he’s still used to being able to take it back to a base or something, probably, where the cost is just part of fleet-level logistics. thomas could honestly charge whatever she wants. luckily for them, thomas is way more interested in the challenge of rebuilding their shattered engine than money. they don’t even know what a blaster bolt they’ve dodged.
demora is piecing together some rendition of a contract for the work when the door swooshes open again. demora looks up cautiously and then freezes for just a second. thomas has to twist around to see the newcomer.
she’s looking at said newcomer’s skirts. holy balls, this lady is tall. not quite human, by the looks of it, either. she’s staring down at thomas in a way that makes thomas feel pinned, like there’s physical weight to her gaze.
hannah squeaks and belatedly shoots to her feet after a moment. demora looks like he wants to follow suit but can’t quite decide whether to.
"in– flare, sir!” hannah says.
so this is the mysterious being everyone is so fucked up over? thomas doesn’t get it. sure, she’s tall as hell and exuding the kind of mild anger that thomas associates with people who might blow up at the most minor of provocation, but it’s not like that’s unusual.
“vyrr said you wanted to speak with me,” flare says plainly. she hasn’t even bothered to glance at the other two in the room.
“yeah,” thomas says. "i’ve been told you want to leave soon-ish? sorry, lady, it’s not gonna happen.“
the sense of anger ramps up a bit. thomas chooses to ignore it. she’s always been good at playing with fire.
"look, you’ve got an entire engine caput, unknown possibilities of damage in the other ones, and you wanna try getting your hyperdrive going on that? it’s just not going to happen. not without adding a, like, sixty to seventy percent probability of death-by-space-travel onto your entire ship.”
there’s a long silence after that, and only demora’s frantic shushing motions in the corner of thomas’s vision stops her from laying out the facts even more clearly if she needs to.
“i… see,” flare says, the slightest of frowns pulling at her face. "very well then. i will see to the schedule changes. tell vyrr the time estimates when you have them.“
she sweeps out in a swirl of skirts and long, tangled red hair. thomas makes a face as the door closes behind her.
"the fuck,” she says.
demora and hannah seem to let out a breath they’ve been holding the entire short encounter. the weight of their relief staggers thomas. there’s nothing normal about this whole damn ship, but that’s not normal.
“well, um,” hannah starts.
“flare hasn’t always been known for being so reasonable,” demora supplies as hannah falters. "some of us have had a better time getting used to her than others.“
"should i worry about this if i’m gonna be here for the next while?” thomas demands.
“no, no, you should be fine,” demora assures her hurriedly.
“she’s much better since we picked up those merc drifters a year ago,” hannah says.
“but really, for the most part she stays out of the way. you probably won’t even see her again,” demora says.
somehow they both feel like they’re definitely hiding something, but what the hell. thomas is undeniably curious as hell, but it’s not her problem.
imperials. maybe the fear is bred into them somehow.
“anyway. let’s get back to the contract, then, since it looks like we’ll have time to actually do what we need!”
=====================
nembus (who turns out to be the nervous human man who came to the shop) and hannah are the ship’s only mechanical engineers, and they basically put themselves at thomas’s full disposal as soon as she makes it clear she knows what she’s doing. what thomas is actually doing is making a great deal up as she goes along, but they don’t need to know that.
around day three of scrapping and rebuilding the poor starboard engine, flirty mctogrutapants comes around. thomas is once again instantly struck by how pretty they are, and once again shakes it off, annoyed with herself. just because she hasn’t gotten laid in weeks... there are more important things to do. none of them are dhyneera.
“dhyneera!” nembus calls, wiping his forehead with an arm that had unfortunately just been deep in the soot-stained depths of the main fuel-line. thomas and hannah snicker at his misfortune together. serves him right for laughing when they came down from the turbines.
“you all look like you’re in desperate need of a shower. and also maybe dinner.” ah. dhyneera is their daily dinner break reminder.
“is it that time already?” hannah asks, genuinely surprised. the floodlights thomas had borrowed from the garage are very effective. thomas is used to losing track of time that way, though.
"thank god,” nembus says. "i am sick to death of retooling fuel lines."
"only way we’ll get these filters in there, buddy, unless you wanna place an order with kdy," thomas says. nembus groans theatrically.
“she’s a slave driver. dhyneera, this is all your fault.”
“oh?” dhyneera says, looking honestly innocent, despite dripping with amusement underneath. "i seem to recall you offering no protest to hiring her, lisapp."
"i’m lodging the formal protest now,” nembus whines. hannah finishes the connection she’s soldering and replaces the iron in its safety catch with a show of finality.
“you’re staying for dinner, right, thomas?”
“yeah, nah, i was done trying to get home after the first night, takes way too long. i’m yours for the duration,” thomas confirms.
“did you stay on the ship last night?” dhyneera asks curiously.
“yeah,” hannah answers for her. "i put her up in the spare bunk in my room. kasa doesn’t mind; it’s not like she even knew until the morning. girl sleeps like granite."
"huh,” is all dhyneera says.
“flip you for first shower,” hannah says, offering thomas a credcoin.
“hannah, the showers in here are communal,” thomas says.
“spoilsport,” hannah sniffs.
======================
thomas wakes in the middle of the night, as she often does: with a sudden, intoxicating rush of inspiration. she’s in the bunk above hannah, but it’s easy enough to climb down without waking her– the things are secured to the wall, as most spacefaring bedding is. thomas only bothers to grab her work gloves and hurries carefully out of the room, making her way to the engine room, where her tools and materials are stored.
she’s waist-deep in the intake system when something suddenly alerts her that she has company. when she manages to tear her attention off the metering valves she’s adjusting, dhyneera is sitting on the edge of the nearest catwalk, watching her.
“the fuck,” thomas says, dizzy with lack of sleep now that she’s been startled out of her midnight-oil hyperfocus. "i’m not sabotaging anything, i’m just reregulating your combustion for the sublights, okay. this shit is so out of tune i’m surprised the empire gets anywhere on it.“
"to be entirely fair, i think it’s been more than a year since they’ve had any real maintenance done in here,” dhyneera says. thomas cannot contain the teakettle sound of frustration and outrage she makes at this very thought.
“how are any of you still alive?” she demands.
“good question,” dhyneera says thoughtfully. there’s something about that kind of cheerful resignation to a situation that should be easily fixed that grates on thomas’s nerves. it seems like there’s an uncanny lot of that going on with this ship.
“the sublights on a capital ship this size should be checked at least every six months,” thomas says. "ideally it should be every three months by the onboard mechanic, and yearly by a team, but lord knows no spacer out there has ever listened to that, especially not you mercenary flyboys."
"i think they’re used to having it checked whenever they went back to an imperial station,” dhyneera says, which actually aligns perfectly with the same sort of thought thomas had had at the beginning.
“okay,” thomas allows. "i guess that’s fair." hannah and nembus did say that they weren’t actually qualified to be the head engineers on the ship, after all.
"it’s not like anyone here is actually willing to step up and tell flare about this kind of shit, either,” dhyneera adds.
“what the fuck,” thomas says for what feels like the millionth time. this whole overdramatic, juvenile performative fear of the ship’s goddamn captain (or whatever) is driving thomas fucking nuts. it’s so fucking melodramatic, do these people even see themselves?
“you done down there, then? or were you just planning on starting your day at one in the morning?”
thomas checks her chrono– three-forty-two. she’s not done by a long shot, but at least she won’t be able to forget where she was going with it now, even if she goes back to sleep. if her brain will even let her go back to sleep.
“ugh,” she answers in lieu of an actual decision, setting her screwdriver down to rub her knuckles over her eyes.
“here, lemme get you out of there,” dhyneera says. thomas looks up, a little surprised; dhyneera doesn’t look like he could actually lift her from the height of the catwalks, but then, thomas is pretty light, and a lot of nonhumans are stronger than they look.
dhyneera doesn’t offer her his hand, though, just holds it out, palm flat, cat-green eyes narrowed, and thomas can feel his concentraton before– something– drags her up by the air, her feet leaving the ground, her skin prickling all over like she stuck her finger in an ingnition socket. thomas stifles the urge to shriek, mostly. until she’s been pulled completely through the air, not quite two meters to the catwalk above, at which point she feels totally justified in hyperventilating a bit once her feet are back on solid steel.
“what the everloving actual fuck!!”
dhyneera is laughing at her. it’s in the eyes, mostly.
“that’s why everyone is too scared to report to flare,” he says. thomas nearly shrieks again out of pure indignation.
“the fuck does that mean?”
“you ever hear of darth vader?” dhyneera asks instead of explaining like a normal person. thomas gives him a look that she is sure can sum up her feelings on a question like that quite well. like, seriously, she’s correllian, how could she have missed knowing who the empire’s top enforcers are?
“okay,” dhyneera says. "darth vader trained flare.“
thomas squints at dhyneera a little, trying to tell what the hell he’s trying to pull. but against all odds, he seems to be serious.
"so– what?” she asks.
“so that thing i just did to you? she can do that, a lot more, and a lot more easily,” dhyneera says. "so the crew that’s been with her since she mutinied and killed a whole bunch of them, they’re kind of understandably apprehensive about talking to her.“
"god, it’s like i’m in a holo,” thomas complains. "this shit isn’t supposed to happen in real life.“
dhyneera grins at her, enough to show fangs, and thomas abruptly, desperately wants to lick them. fuck, of all the inconvenient fucking times for her sex drive to kick back in with a vengeance. thomas blames the three-a.m. adrenaline surge, on top of the fact that she hasn’t been laid in basically forever.
"mind you, i’m not saying all this to make you scared. i’m just as fed up with that attitude as you are. i’m just saying, they’re not all lily-livered alarmists, there’s actually a reason they’re all like that. so don’t judge them too hard.”
“why does it matter?” thomas asks. "i’m just the mechanic. who cares if i judge them all to malastare and back?“ ahah. she’s spent too long here already– that’s hannah’s phrase.
"you’re not just fixing the obvious problems,” dhyneera says in an unnervingly certain sort of way. "you’re refitting the whole thing, when you don’t even have to. you’re exceptional. you don’t have to keep working on swoop bikes and junkers, you know. anyone would be glad to have you, if they knew what you could do. we’re just lucky to have been the first to pick you up.“
"are you– are you offering me a job? can you even do that?” thomas says incredulously.
“you work well with lisapp and soto,” dhyneera says.
“well, yeah,” thomas says, “they actually respect me, instead of being threatened.”
“i’m guessing that happens a lot?”
thomas just scoffs in answer. dhyneera grins at her again, and this time it sends a pulse of heat clawing straight down between thomas’s legs. in the red dimness of the night-cycle lights, backlit by thomas’s single work light still on, dhyneera looks stark, otherworldly, wild. it’s the stripes on his montrals and lekku, the white markings glowing.
“they probably wouldn’t mind if you took over, honestly. i think it would actually be a relief. nobody who stayed on here is the imperial-ambitious type– those all either left or flare wiped 'em out, as far as i can tell,” dhyneera says.
“you are. offering me a job. holy shit,” thomas says. it takes effort not to let on that she is so suddenly, desperately turned on, but it’s not like this is the first time that’s happened.
“there has to be some kind of perks to being flare’s sort-of apprentice. being pretty much outside the ship’s hierarchy is definitely one. all that military ranking nonsense gives me hives.”
“this thing is a piece of scrap, and i’m gonna rebuild every part of it,” thomas says warningly. dhyneera just grins some more at her. fuck, thank god he can’t know what that’s doing to her.
“you’re welcome to it. sell it to flare and you can do whatever you want around here, honestly.”
“what do you all even do?” thomas asks.
“mercenary contracts, mostly. ambushes, pirating, defense. some smuggling on the side. i like that you’re asking about that even before what the pay is like.”
oh, yeah. thomas had forgotten. "it can’t be worse than what i’m getting for part-time at the garage,“ she says, deflecting. between her mother’s family and her father’s fortune, it’s not like the money has ever been a problem. just that she’s so goddamn bored.
if nothing else, living with a crew straight out of a holomovie promises to probably be anything but boring.
"you’re very pretty,” dhyneera says, which is such a stunning departure from their previous subject and into thomas’s fantasies that she’s honestly not sure if she’s just imagining that.
“what?” she asks, just to check.
“sorry–” dhyneera says, “you’re, um. projecting. a lot. also you obviously didn’t appreciate camp flirting, so i thought i’d try sincerity.”
“ooohh, fuck,” thomas says, feeling her face get hot. "i’m so sorry, i don’t have like– any control over the pheromones, i’m not even fully half zeltron–"
"no, that’s fine, really, i mean. i have definitely been after you since day one. you just seemed uninterested until– now.” dhyneera bites the tip of his tongue, hands creeping toward stroking one lek in way that thomas recognizes as a nervous gesture from her few twi'lek acquaintances.
“i make a point not to be anything but annoyed with customers,” thomas admits, very glad that between freckles, her vividly pink skin tone, and the lighting, it’d be very hard to tell that she’s blushing furiously. "otherwise the number of times i would have banged someone over that desk would have gotten me fired.“
dhyneera laughs, bright and cheerful and slightly out of breath, until thomas is smiling along with him. he’s still chuckling to himself when he reaches for thomas’s hand. he’s very warm. thomas shivers despite herself, clenching her legs together in a way that hopefully isn’t too obvious. although, honestly, so what if it is? dhyneera is an over-the-top flirt verging on jackassery, but he also feels totally sincere in his actual liking and attraction. and he is very pretty.
"do you wear mascara?” thomas finds herself asking, close enough for the first time to really register dhyneera’s outrageously long, thick eyelashes.
dhyneera breaks out laughing again, coming in close to thomas until she can feel his heat all over. oohhh, fuck. he’s shorter than his montrals make him seem, a bare handful of centimeters above thomas.
“nope,” he says. "only eyeliner on occasion, not that i’ve had occasion for a long time. yours are just as bad, though. i just couldn’t tell before since they’re so light.“
thomas fixes her face in an overdone pout-and-glare just for the principle of the thing. this close she can feel it when dhyneera vibrates with unvocalized laughter.
"can i kiss you?” he asks, a breath above a whisper.
“god motherfucking damn,” thomas says, and feels absolutely no compunctions at this point about crushing herself to him and sliding up on tiptoes to devour his mouth. dhyneera tastes raw and metallic with a hint of caff, and he bites, just enough to make those fangs felt. thomas whines into the kiss and grinds shamelessly against dhyneera until he shoves his leg between hers to give her some real friction. thomas drops a hand to rub the heel of her palm over her mound, choking on the desperate little sounds that want to escape her.
“whoa,” dhyneera says, projecting cool, soothing patience despite the undertone of reciprocal arousal thomas can feel from him. "hello, firecracker, zero to hyperspace much?“
"fuck youuuu,” thomas whines. "it has been weeks since i got off. weeks!"
"um, wow. someone needs to learn about the wonders of toys. and hands,” dhyneera says, still laughing at her.
“who has time?” thomas demands. certainly not her. if she had her druthers she’d be able to focus on machinery without such frequent lapses of attention, but nobody gets to pick who they’re born as.
dhyneera bats her hand away to slip his into her underwear, made easy by the fact that she’s not actually wearing pants. thomas is briefly, overwhelmingly glad that she hadn’t bothered to really get dressed as his fingers find her clit in a starburst of pleasure, rubbing in maddeningly slow circles before he slips two fingers further down and crooks them up into her.
“oohhh, fuck,” thomas groans, rocking forward into that frustratingly shallow stroking. dhyneera hovers over her, close enough that they’re almost kissing again, watching her face. "fuck, please,“ she manages to add. dhyneera hooks his fingers up into her with startling strength, right along that sweet spot and stroking harder until thomas is overwhelmed and coming, wringing down viciously hard on him.
"kriffing hell,” dhyneera whispers. thomas can only whimper, overdone by the continued gentle stroking of his fingers against her tightness, keyed up and oversensitive in the wake of coming so fast. finally he drags his fingers out of her, leaving her feeling empty and cold in the absence of his warmth.
“you wanna come back to my room?” dhyneera asks, leering cheerfully, comically. "i’ll show you my dick collection. you can pick the one you like best.“
"how are you even real, dhyneera?” thomas asks, still not quite catching her breath.
“kaeon,” he says “kae for short, if i like you,” he flashes his real grin at her and thomas is actually allowed to groan and shiver over that now. "whichever you prefer.“
"i prefer you sweeping me off my feet and fucking me senseless anytime soon, honestly,” thomas admits. somehow she is still not quite expecting dhyneera – kaeon – to comply.
which he does.
to the letter.
====================
thomas wakes up slowly, warm and muzzy in an indistinctly familiar way. the swoosh of the door opening brings her back to full consciousness in a hurry, though. kaeon’s arm is looped gently over her waist. no doubt her hair is tangled in his lekku. therefore, first jolt of interruption notwithstanding, thomas declines to move. after all, if kaeon wasn’t just fronting about hiring her, they’re crewmates now, not contractor and customer, so thomas is perfectly within her rights to continue her well-fucked languor in kaeon’s bed.
“oh my god,” an unfamiliar girl’s voice chirps. "really, kae? really? in our room?“
"it’s not like you were here,” kaeon says sleepily into thomas’s shoulder. thomas is vaguely amused at this lackluster reaction to someone catching them post-flagrante-delicto. also she desperately wants to go back to sleep, but if they can finish the retooling today, they can start retrofitting some of the replacement parts they’re fabricating.
the apparent roommate makes a noise of protest when thomas sits up uncaring of the blankets or common concepts of modesty.
“what if i had come back?” roommate demands.
“it was like four in the morning, kia, it was kind of obvious you were out for the night,” kaeon says.
“glad as i am to be the source of this discord,” thomas interrupts their byplay. the bunk mattress vibrates very faintly with kaeon’s laughter as he sits up as well, miraculously mostly not tangled in thomas’s hair.
“sorry,” he says. "thomas, this is kiorae demsharr, the nominal other half of my dynamic duo. kia, meet our new head mechanic, thomas wellsey."
"junior,” thomas automatically supplies. "second of the name, you know."
"okay,” kiorae says in a picture-perfect tone of long suffering. "nice to meet you. please be gone or at least dressed when i come back." she shoots a meaningful glare at kaeon, somehow managing to avoid quite looking at thomas, and turns on her heel to make the door slide open for her again.
"well,” kaeon says, “that went well.”
“good fucking morning,” thomas says, and then they’re both dissolved into ungraceful snorting laughter.
“aw, kriff,” kaeon sighs. "i’m going back to bed. it’s too early after late-shifting.“
"that’s what caff is for," thomas says primly, searching the floor under the bunk for her underwear and shirt.
“has anyone told you you’re a workaholic?” kaeon asks.
“actually, my mother despairs that i’m not getting anything done ever because i’m too busy 'tinkering,’” thomas says. oh, there’s her shirt. kaeon apparently tossed it onto the top bunk. she pulls it on and considers whether she cares about covering up on the way back to hannah’s room. not really. it’s crazy how different things are after kaeon’s offer. it feels like thomas can actually just. be herself, instead of having to be professional, and yet still get to keep working on her projects. it’s exhilarating in a way that thomas absolutely did not expect.
caught up in the borderline mania of newfound freedom, thomas swoops in and kisses kaeon good morning, licking over his fangs until he growls faintly into her mouth.
“thank you,” she says, and jogs out the door before he can ask her exactly what for.
two people pass her in the hall, but only one double-takes, and thomas isn’t even sure if that’s for her attire or her unknown identity. it didn’t sound like this was the first time kaeon had brought someone to his berth on this ship, so it could be either really.
hannah is gone already but kasa looks up from her caff and datapad on her bunk when thomas palms the door open.
“are you okay?” kasa asks, frowning. thomas blinks at her, caught off-guard by the question.
“um? yes? so okay,” thomas says, and kasa’s expression clears back into what thomas has already gathered is her usual morning grump.
“if anyone on this ship– or not, even– had you coming back in here like that against your will, i’d turn them in to flare,” kasa says. thomas is suddenly much more acutely aware of her lack of pants and collection of probable hickies.
“awww,” she croons, “kasa, i’m so touched. that’s so vicious.”
“damn right it is,” kasa says, pleased. "now dish; who’d you seduce in three goddamn days on this ship while you were off drowning in motor oil the whole time?"
"one, i will have you know that motor oil is a very attractive look, and two, it was kaeon dhyneera, and i had him seduced the minute he walked into my shop,” thomas says. this is the most conversation she’s had with kasa in the short time she’s stayed here; she’s pleased to find that she likes the human girl. she’s unexpectedly gossipy.
“does being a zeltron count as cheating?” kasa asks.
“i don’t know,” thomas says, “kaeon didn’t seem like the kind of guy who takes a lot of convincing, though. and i’m less than half zeltron, anyway.”
“counts,” kasa declares. "but probably not as cheating, in this case. kaeon just usually goes for guys, in my records of him, is all.“
"huh,” thomas says. "i wouldn’t have guessed. maybe zeltron heritage is cheating, a little, in that case. i don’t whammy people on purpose, though."
"remember, i will always sic flare on somebody,” kasa says, “for values of always that include however long you’re here.”
“that might be a lot longer than you think,” thomas says.
“repairs going that badly, huh?”
“it’s not my fault that kuat likes to cut corners and add them somewhere dumb in their assembly,” thomas sniffs. better to be cagey until she has a chance to talk to hannah and nembus about it, since essentially she’d be their direct boss. even though a part of her knows that she’s going to go through with this, come hell or high water and this whole boatload of melodramatic ex-imperials.
she’s going to need to get all of her stuff from home, or at least however much is spacefaring feasible. there’s no way to make that subtle. and technically she should really tell mr. novak something instead of just vanishing into the ether, no matter how much less fun that is.
kasa goes back to her datapad while thomas gets dressed and goes to hunt down some caff and possibly breakfast in the mess.
“there you are,” hannah says when thomas collapses into a seat at a table across from her and nembus. "i misplaced you during the night. it was very discomfiting.“
"sorry. got sudden midnight inspiration and couldn’t go back to sleep,” thomas says. hannah snorts her opinion of this.
“what on earth could entice you to actually go do more work in the middle of the night?” nembus asks, with a sort of fascinated incredulity.
“all of your meters were fucked. that’s how the blowout managed to crisp your hyperdrive connection– your reactor draw was way too high,” thomas explains, excited all over again. "if i can get them all set just right, it should reduce fuel usage to like, two-thirds what it is right now."
"holy shit,” hannah says, and nembus nods along, wide-eyed. "can we keep you, what the fuck."
"about that, actually,” thomas says. she couldn’t have asked for a better segue. "so while i was readjusting meters, i had a very interesting encounter with one kaeon dhyneera."
"oh gods,” nembus says, slapping a hand over his face. "you didn’t kill him and throw him in the reactor, did you? demsharr will go on the warpath."
"what? no,” thomas says, “just. does he actually have the authority to offer people jobs around here? because he might have implied that he thought i should. well, sign on, basically.”
“holy shit,” hannah repeats. "are you serious? and you’re actually considering it?"
"i honestly just wanted to make sure you guys would be okay with it,” thomas admits. "i’ve been needing to get out of that garage for a long time."
"does that mean we could slow down on this repair job?” nembus asks.
“haha, no,” thomas says. "sorry, i have so many things i would want to change around here, i haven’t even figured out what they all are yet.“
"well, fuck,” nembus says, but seems more resignedly dismayed than opposed to the idea.
“dude, you’re willing to talk to flare for us and keep the ship in actually safe working order? 'okay,' nothing, you’d be a fucking godsend,” hannah says.
“aww, you guys,” thomas says, hiding in her caff mug as though that could disguise how actually ecstatic that vote of confidence makes her. “you’re sure you don’t mind that i’d be basically taking over? i know i’m younger than both of you and i’m kind of pushy.”
“you’ve, uh. never been on an extended spacefaring expediction, i’m guessing?” nembus cuts in.
“no-ooo,” thomas says slowly. she’s never really been off correllia, other than a few trips to visit her mother’s family.
“it’s terrifying,” nembus says flatly, which is so one hundred percent not what thomas expected him to say. "for the last year or so, anytime anything at all went wrong, hannah and i have had to deal with it, which puts us basically between the ship and being spaced. and we usually have almost no idea what to do. we’re specialists; we’re meant to be part of a team of ten, for efficiency. i’m a reactor maintenance engineer.“
"i’m systems– electrical, life support, water,” hannah puts in.
“so yeah, the hyperdrive, repulsorlifts, sublights? all pretty important, right? yeah, nah, i’ve got the most basic working knowledge and that’s it.” nembus chuckles weakly to himself.
“as far as i can tell, you know about everything,” hannah says. “that’s fucking crazy. that’s definitely head engineer territory.”
“actually… i’m pretty much just making stuff up until it works,” thomas admits, in the interest of full discretion.
“stars,” nembus says. "suddenly so much makes sense. but no, really that’s where i was originally going, about space travel. it doesn’t matter how old you are, when you’re ten minutes from getting blown out of the sky and all you need is to jury-rig the shield generator to last one more hit before the hyperdrive engages.“
"oh,” thomas says, immediately trying to come up with ways to get a dead shield generator running again in a hurry. "well, when you put it that way.“
"but also, to answer your original question, yes,” hannah says. "if kaeon asked you on, then it might as well be official. all you have to do is talk to captain moryne and michael about contracts and money and stuff.“
"hey,” nembus says, “if it’s your ship, too, now, do we still have to pay you to fix it?”
