<strong>Ky - Bernadette - Shipyard - evening</strong><br/><br/>Ky didn't know anything about the fuel tax or the Miranda broadwave. What he did know was that he'd managed to arrive at this godforsaken place just a few hours too late to hitch a ride to... well... anywhere. He didn't care. It wasn't about the destination, it was about finding someplace to fit in. Someplace where he could learn on the job, get fed... maybe even earn himself a little money. The wages weren't that important though. He was inexperienced and he knew that. He was also prepared to work for practically nothing to get the right training. Years he'd been idly daydreaming of being a proper mechanic. Daydreaming of leaving his brother's ship behind and going out into the 'verse on his own.<br/><br/>Careful what you wish for. That's what they said, and boy, Ky had never given it much thought before but it seemed the saying rang true. The crew had settled down to refuel and pick up whatever cargo it was Ky's brother had arranged. Ky had been twitchier than usual that morning. He always trusted his gut - it was one of the reasons he made such a good lookout - and something had definitely been wrong. He'd mentioned it to the rest of the crew, but his warnings had been waved off as paranoia. So Ky had taken his own small precautions, gathering up his beloved possessions and taking them with him as he wandered a little way away from the ship to watch out from a distance. And he'd been right. Lord, he'd wished it'd just been paranoia, but within the hour the ship was crawling with Alliance authorities and Ky was off like a lit rocket, getting himself as far away from the scene as possible.<br/><br/>The rest of the crew hadn't been so lucky, and Ky wasn't sure exactly what had become of them all. Were they still alive? Imprisoned? No-one seemed to know... or weren't inclined to part with the information without some sort of recompense, and Ky didn't have anything to use as incentive. He was alone now... and he couldn't just sit there like a lost puppy wondering what became of the rest of the pack. He had to survive. He had to get himself somewhere.<br/><br/>He'd hitched to the ports, but the place seemed empty and Ky couldn't help but feel that maybe his lucky streak was over... but then a flyer caught his attention. Someone was recruiting a crew and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get himself on board as an apprentice mechanic. He didn't have any way of contacting the owner of the ship so he'd made his way to the shipyard stated on the flyer and there he'd waited, for a couple of hours, until finally someone showed up.<br/><br/>Trying to be inconspicuous, Ky meandered closer to the man, catching part of his conversation with the night-guard. Mercy, that guy sounded like he'd gone and swallowed a whole dictionary. Ky was always a little suspicious of people who used long words in casual conversation. It was like they<em>wanted</em>to confuse people. To keep them on the back foot. But beggars couldn't be choosers and this might be the last damn ship to leave the docks for a while. Ky needed to be on it.<br/><br/>Pausing until the night-guard left, he approached the other man, eying him suspiciously as he did. "'Scuse me, mister," he began, crossing his arms across his chest, standing as tall as he could muster as he took in the other man's sharp attire, pasty skin and well-groomed appearance. A learned man, obviously, as if his vocabulary hadn't already given that away. "You Dulain? I 'eard you were lookin' for a crew an' I've come to... uh... offer my services." That sounded smart, didn't it? Business-like. "I'm a 'pprentice mechanic," he added, putting the emphasis on<em>mechanic</em>rather than apprentice, "Name's Ky Doherty."