Chandaar, she reasoned absently as the vessel was being run through routine diagnostics, was just another shithole.<br/><br/>The nature of Chandaar was akin to Nar Shaddaa- but without the Hutt roots and the entertainment. It was touristy if the tourists were of the illegal variety, and it was commercial if the business one hoped to run had no qualms with skirting the acceptable galactic standards of the greater galaxy. In her time working on Chandaar, Phaerakaus "Phae" Tamorae had seen three people murdered in cold blood, a junkie crush his own arm in the jaws of an ion brace, and several well-endowed male courtesans beat her boss within an inch of his life over their "owed payments". Suffice to say, this wasn't the magical adventure into the unknown she had thought it would be upon taking the position as assistant to the aforementioned cybernetic machinist.<br/><br/>Now, besides harboring that deep-seated desire to scrub away the lingering smog and city smells, Phae also had a great deal of consideration for her ship. Well, it wasn't her ship<i>yet</i>. In actuality, it was another unlicensed Skipper meant for skips and other smuggling operations that involved little crew and minimal cargo space. This particular Skipper had been retrofitted with an interior that served to house three or four humanoid individuals for a decent length of time. This meant it was more than a simple vehicle- it was a home. Of course, Phae wanted it. It wasn't that stealing a ship was anything unheard of in these parts, but before her laborious stay with the local tweakers and derelicts, Phae had prided herself as being moderately liberal. This meant she was apt to drink, to mingle, to fuck, and to be comfortable with less because she could make the most of what she had.<br/><br/>Now, she was ready to steal a ship.<br/><br/>Easier said than done (or so one would think), but the nature of Chandaar would once more surprise and instill a sense of revulsion in the Auroun as if attempting to give her a proper send off. Her employer, one Mr. C'ieg Erologo, was currently dick deep in the owner of the Skipper she was tending to. She hadn't bothered to ask the fellow's name, but under most circumstances, she had been taught not to question the debaucherous ways of the natives. Not because they wouldn't answer the questions- on the contrary, they loved to. Instead, she stopped asking because there were so many twisted answers to keep track of, she thought she might entirely lose herself in the logic of others. One fear she knew all too well was a potential loss of her identity, made possible by becoming involved in someone else's life.<br/><br/>Partially why she stayed single, though that mostly had to do with the quality of men where she was.<br/><br/>Skimming the peripherals of the docking bay, she noted there wasn't a living soul in the vicinity of the Skipper, save for herself, and one jackknife of a slummer with an entire head and neckline covered in tattoos. 'Not tribal', he mentioned when they first met. 'Just some things I like.' Barbed spike wire and vulgar symbols of disreputable organizations someone like Phae had no interest in, among other things. He was picking his teeth with a drill bit, humming something coarse in the cup of his throat as though he couldn't manage the vocalize the tune without somehow putting himself at an inconvenience. Calculating the risk of her next move, Phae sidled slowly around a table of tools and parts to hover over the mercenary, and after a moment of not being acknowledged, she cleared her throat with an abrupt cough.<br/><br/>"AHEM- Kilroy."<br/><br/>"Aye, what?" When he asked, it was obvious he didn't particularly care what Phae intended to say, but he had nothing better to do while the droids worked on the superficial damages to the hull.<br/><br/>"How much does he pay you?" It was a simple question. Phae arched a brow with the question, the sweep of her pale locks held precariously in a messy bun that her hands breezed over. "A man of your skills makes more than I do, right? Probably ten thousand credits a mission,<i>right</i>?"<br/><br/>Kilroy, as they both already knew, was a man of little skill outside of indiscriminate hatred and a willingness to slit the throats of unsuspecting marauders trying to cut it as smugglers. Of course, he didn't know Phae was aware of his value, so he flashed a smile like a jack-o-lantern and put down the drill bit hastily. "Real glad someone agrees wit' me. Nah, he pays me too little fer my work. Reckon it's high time I get the fuck outta Roger's employ,<i>donchaknowit</i>- but I'd be strapped down here wit'out a credit to spare. It ain' all that reasonable to ditch his operation now, even if Roger is a right cunt." His gaze flickered lazily up and down Phae's figure before asking, "I could probably afford you, truth be told, fer a night or two. That why yer askin'?"<br/><br/>It was hard to suppress her laughter; he really was an idiot. Instead, the Auroun swallowed and turned away to look back to the ship. "Roger is the type of guy who'll never pay you back, Kilroy, but I know a quick fix for the issue. Check this-" Pacing away from the seated merc, Phae stretched her arm so her fingertips brushed the belly of the Skipper, indicating how massive it was compared to one Auroun halfbreed. In half unbuttoned coveralls and welding goggles, Phae looked the part of the attractive mechanic even if her heart was steering her far from the clutches of her own shabby employment. "Why don't we take the ship and leave? Roger is getting railed by C'ieg as we speak. I bet he could shack up here nice and comfy until he scraped up enough for a new ship, so it's not like we'd be putting him out. Not really. Just taking what you're owed, yeah?" The smile she offered was contagious in how it seemed to spell out the ramifications of their potential agreement.<br/><br/>Should Kilroy agree, it was agreeing to steal a ship AND be in close confines with Phae. As expected, he took the bait.<br/><br/>"Ahm in," he slurred quickly before righting himself and trudging over to where Phae lingered. Narrowing his vision, he cocked a thumb over his shoulder toward the sealed office portion of the garage. "When we leavin'?"<br/><br/>"Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready."<br/><br/>Sure enough, it took Phae about ten minutes and a bit of jogging to pack up her few material belongings and grab her cat, but Kilroy hadn't taken off without her so she tried not to look too panicked as she returned. With his help, they loaded the two bags into the cargo storage and unattached the droids owned by the garage. C'ieg had twenty or so, but Phae didn't need to find out the Skipper could be tracked by the signature of one he had tagged, so the thought of stealing a droid quickly died along with her hopes to take back the plan of escape. It was just one of those adventures she had hoped to find herself on, even if it wasn't necessarily advantageous to take Kilroy along for the ride. Perhaps things between the two would prove amicable until they reached their first stop, and if it was useless trying, she could always take a shuttle elsewhere.<br/><br/>Without having to pay back C'ieg for her apprenticeship, she was free to exist as she wished- no rules besides those she made for herself, no overbearing benefactors using their brief moments of generosity as leverage, and no more Chandaar. Phae practically beamed as Kilroy motioned for her to take<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FhuPQKYD.jpg&amp;hash=0c80ce3559d340701e5bc32ca8b53a62" href="https://i.imgur.com/huPQKYD.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>a seat in the cockpit</u></a>, which was far larger than she expected it to be for such a small vessel, but Kilroy was quick to explain that one seat was for steering, the second was for general navigation and occasional use of cloaking, and the last seat was the only one capable of working the mounted guns on either side of the spacecraft. "Reckon we won't need them," he added lethargically, "but you never know out this way. Smugglers ain' always kind to their own kind,<i>donchaknow</i>."<br/><br/>Funny he still considered himself a smuggler, despite having very little to smuggle these days aside from corpses the Mandalorians wouldn't waste their time tracking down. Phae knew it was a myth that any bounty was fit for Mandos, just like the knew it was a myth that every Auroun was entitled to freedom. She fought for hers, and the Mandalorians picked high-end bounties worth their time. To each their own.<br/><br/>It may not have been the best choice to leave Kilroy on the opposite side of Chandaar when they went to refuel. Their makeshift alliance had lasted roughly 4 hours, but Phae felt she was justified in ditching the extra weight as soon as he started spouting his radical ideas concerning Xenos and racial cleansing. She could tolerate the flirting and the weird smell he exuded, but the inane talk of superiority among quadrant natives was entirely too much. When Kilroy paid the pill for the refuel, he was meant to grab a few extra supplies, but rather than coming back to a ship with an attractive co-pilot, he was left in the dismal open with only hatred to keep him going. A fitting end to Kilroy's part in Phae's story.<br/><br/>Space didn't pass any judgment on Phae and her choice in companions, which had become that of her cat Reginald, and no one else. There was no karmic backlash, no divine intervention, and no supreme balance to tip the scales against her. If anything, life was seemingly in her favor for the stint of a day or so, and she acclimated to her new home inside the stolen Skipper (<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FSoK0DMb.jpg&amp;hash=cea15f193ed0bcd1460b4febdce27a33" href="https://i.imgur.com/SoK0DMb.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>Which she had named Clovis</u></a>) as any ex-machinist might. She rewired a few of the systems so navigation and artillery could be controlled through the main steering column (since she was one woman and needed to do it all herself), and then she tweaked the holoprojector that hadn't worked so that it was now mostly functional (minus some slight static in erratic intervals). She also got the onboard food processor to actually process capsules, thus creating the food it was intended to create, which hadn't worked for some time by the looks of the machine itself.<br/><br/>A sense of accomplishment washed over Phae as<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2Fa9%2Ff4%2Fff%2Fa9f4ffc5a2190c433bd3bcc09dd7e083.jpg&amp;hash=f9a816354bdd0de0a0a8a72454bcc420" href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a9/f4/ff/a9f4ffc5a2190c433bd3bcc09dd7e083.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>Reginald</u></a>was brushed by her fingers, his long tawny hair genetically modified to dissolve when it was shed. Had she been less busy the past day, she might have noticed a ship flagged in the general area she was pseudo-parked. It wasn't until the whine of an alarm pierced Clovis' interior that Phae recognized she was being tailed.<br/><br/>"Oh, fuck-" She breathed, debating her options as minutes ticked on, undeterred by her internal conflict. The answer, she realized, could be as simple as asking for directions.<br/><br/>Phae opened the communications link with the vessel and waited to be verified. If they accepted the link, she would ask, "Are you part of the transport? I'm still waiting for word back from the freighter on their offer."