Got It Where It Counts

[Acheli San Maronea]

The brightly-colored YT-2400 rocketed through space, crossing the frontier between the Galactic Empire and the Alliance of Free planets without slowing one bit. That got the attention of a patrolling Nebulon B frigate, the Dragoon. It banked course to intercept, while a pair of X-wing fighters appeared on scope far ahead, no-doubt launched from Jovan Station.

"Unidentified freighter, we have you on our scopes. Transmit credentials, over."

Acheli San Maronea preened her whiskers with a paw-tip, casually flicking the channel open.

"Unidentified frigate, I see you too. This is Captain Maron of the Quasar Fantastic. Requesting docking clearance at Jovan station. I have nothing to declare, over."

The X-wings pulled into an escort formation alongside. Maron didn't accelerate or showboat. They were flying close enough that the pilot of the starboard side was easily visible in his cockpit. Maron tapped a lackadaisical finger to her brow in mock salute, and nodded.

"Come again freighter, we have you as the Quasar Fantastic. Is that correct, over?"

Maron's whiskers rose, as good as a grin for a Selonian.

"The one and only, over."

"Uh, um. Stand by. Over."

[Joey Rabeak]

"Hot damn, it really is the Quasar Fantastic!" Joey exclaimed over his comm system to his fellow pilot as they flanked the gaudy freighter. While on the wrong side to see into the cockpit, the Nehantite nudged his X-wing a bit closer, wanting a better look overall, until he curled beneath hear, his suspicions totally confirmed. "Oh yeah, this is her all right. What's a racer doing around here? Not that I'm complaining, I'd love to see her engine tuning setup!"

"Rabeak, back in position, and shut your trap," a voice minded him over his own comm. With a sigh, the pilot eased back into standard escort position, jealous of his wingmate's view. Before he could complain, the Alliance frigate, Barcona, cut into the general comms again.

"Quasar Fantastic, you've completed an unscheduled, and unannounced border crossing. Proceed to Jovan Station, and land in Bay C. Your ship will be inspected there. Your escorts will show you the way. Over."

[Acheli San Maronea]

"Solid copy. Bay C, Jovan station. Quasar Fantastic out."

She glanced to her left and right, then initiated a tightbeam comm to each of her X-wing escorts.

"I know those T-65's can go faster than that. Care to take a joyride?"

[Joey Rabeak]

"Heh, this ain't no ordinary T-65," Joey replied, grinning. "See if you can keep up."

"Joey, don't you even-" his wingmate snapped over the comms, but it was too late.

The black-hulled T-65 A4-C's engines pulsed only momentarily before kicking into full power, and Joey felt himself thrown back in his pilot's seat from the massive acceleration as he screamed out ahead. He knew he was stoplight racing with a proper racing ship, so there was no reason to hold back. Well, no reason except for likely getting in trouble just a tiny bit, but he could handle it. What he wanted to know more was could his opponent match the speed of his custom-tuned engines as he streaked past the frigate and toward Jovan.

[Acheli San Maronea]

Maron's whiskers bounced as she momentarily got a glimpse of the port-side X-wing's pink engine flares. It didn't look like the starboard fighter wanted to play, but it wasn't like she was deviating from vector. Her webbed right hand grasped the throttle, easing the gleaming silver control forward. The response was smooth, providing consistent sublight acceleration with no signs of drive system distress. The Quasar Fantastic matched speed, drawing even with the racer X-wing. Maron rolled her ship ninety degrees counter-clockwise, so she could visually see her escort and competition.

"One-oh-five MGLT. Very nice. Didn't think X-wings had that kind of pick-up. Don't redline while trying to impress me."

[Joey Rabeak]

"Oh, I'm not at redline yet," Joey's grin could be heard through his voice as he replied. "And, most X-wings don't have Rabeak-tuned engines."

Neither were lies, but only finding narrow margins of truth. His was the only X-wing he knew of with engines he had tuned himself, and he was just barely under his redline. Muting the protest of his R2 unit, Joey took a breath, and punched forward once more, giving it all he had. Wouldn't need to last long, as Jovan was coming up quickly on his sensors, but he simply had to know if he was faster than a proper racing ship.

[Acheli San Maronea]

The X-wing again took the lead. Maron laughed, shaking her head with some incredulity at the pilot's moxie.

"Alright, I guess we're for real then."

The Selonian's hand reached to the array of overhead control switches. She unseated an engage switch, pausing to glance at her readouts.

Coaxium injection system: online

As Joey gained distance on her, Maron hummed a tune in her head, tightening her crash webbing around her slender shoulders. She cracked her knuckles, then feathered up a sliding control beneath the covered switch.

Injection volume: 2 cubic millimeters
Pulse: 6 per second
Duration: three seconds

"Hey kid, don't blink."

Engage

The cockpit controls dimmed a half second before the sublights surged. The Quasar Fantastic rocketed at the head of a comet-tail of pressurized ionized plasma. The sublight dampeners engaged in race mode, pressing Maron firmly into her seat with enough force to momentarily take her breath away. It came back to her in a pant as she watched Joey's X-wing grow in her window, then slip gently to the wayside.

As quickly as it began, it ended. Maron disengaged the ship's coaxium injector, bringing the Quasar Fantastic back to a polite 80 MGLT.

"Still with me?"

[Joey Rabeak]

To say you had raced Captain Maron, of the Quasar Fanstastic, was bragging rights in and of itself. No would ever ask if you won, because there's no way you could, but to simply be able to do it was enough. It was no surprise when the light freighter surged past him as if he were standing still, and true to Maron's instruction, Joey didn't blink. Instead his eyes were wide, taking in the spectacle close-up as the craft hurtled ahead of him on his scanner. Stopping for Alliance forces was purely a show of good faith, as she could clearly outrun anything Jovan had to throw at her.

Backing off to just below redline, Joey made up ground as Maron slowed, until he came up alongside her once more.

"Well, I'll be damned," the Nehantite laughed over the comms. "Takes a lot to beat a Rabeak tune, but it doesn't hurt to lose to a pro like yourself, ma'am! We're coming up on the station, got a limit of 20 MGLT around here, so let's reel it on in. I'll guide you around to hangar C."

"And then you'll report to hangar A, Joey. Immediately," a fresh voice broke over the comms. "Quasar Fantastic, thank you for the show, but please don't indulge our rookies. It makes life less pleasant for them. Welcome to Jovan Station."

[Acheli San Maronea]

Definitely didn't want to make this hotshot's day any more difficult than it was about to be. Maron gently slid down to 20 MGLT, righting herself to orient with the station growing larger in her screen.

"Acknowledged. Locked at twenty MGLT. Nice straightaway, kid. Maybe I'll have time to check out your engine, if they don't have you mopping the hangar bay for having too much fun."

The point came for their vectors to part ways. Maron dipped her hull for a moment to get another parting glance at her competition. She gave a magnanimous wave, then engaged maneuvering thrusters to put her in position for the tractors to do the rest of the work. Slipping through the atmospheric field, the Selonian relaxed her crash webbing, and slipped the gloves off her paws.

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

In the middle of assisting a hangar crew in easing a hyperdrive motivator back onto a Y-wing, Gradoona nearly lost her grip on the repulsor sled as she watched a very familiar rainbow-hued Corellian light freighter touch down.

"Hoo-leey smookies, thaats...thaats the Quaasar Fantaastic!!"

Her blowhole squeed as the Herglic gestured breathlessly at the famous race ship.

"Thaat's the ship thaat's won the Draagon Void Run two tiiimes!"

As if just finishing the Dragon Void Run wasn't difficult enough, winning it was a hallowed sign of talent. Winning it twice? There were very few beings in the galaxy that could claim that feather for their hat.

[Fredal Rabeak]

Jovan Station. It touted itself as a metropolis on the border of the galaxy, a melting pot of influences, technology, cultures, and ideas. A place where anyone with enough heart and drive could go and make a life for themselves among the stars. A place which was very, very different from the hot, dry, dusty trailer park where Fredal "Freddie" Rabeak had spent the first seventeen years of his life. A place Freddie had spent nearly all of his life savings to go to for an interview with Engineering, only to bomb.

Not just bomb, but bomb while being interviewed by a fellow Nehantite. One who used to run a reliable ship rebuild yard back home, no less.

And so Freddie found himself on Jovan, with little more than a change of clothes and his tool bag, and a few remaining credits he'd have to stretch as far he could make them. He tried getting on with Alliance hangar ops, but couldn't since he wasn't eighteen. None of the private rebuild or repair shops wanted him, as the contacts on his short resume were all halfway across the galaxy. He wasn't much good at cooking, so that was out, and furred species were known for getting hair in food even as servers. Even the Tea House wouldn't hire him, after they apparently had a bad experience with another young male Nehantite, and didn't want to take a chance.

Each and every door he tried seemed to slam in his face, until he found very few which were even open in the first place. Desperation mounted as he realized he had no way back home, and had possibly committed the worst mistake of his life, on the back of youthful vigor and hubris. Such hubris was dulled as he paced up and down the line in Hangar C offering his services as a technician, only to be turned down by every arriving craft. As he neared the end of the line, though, a bright spark of hope returned to the gray-furred Nehantite's life, and he broke into a sprint, his heavy tool bag thudding against his side as he ran.

It was the Quasar Fantastic! One of the single greatest racing ships to ever fly, and it was there, on Jovan! Bare footpaws slipped and skidded as he rounded a corner, bumping into a pilot as he rushed up, hoping to even get a glimpse of Caprtain Maron, or an autograph if he were truly lucky! A holopicture was out of the question, though, as he'd sold his camera at the pawn shop a few days earlier so he could... eat. But hunger and regular needs were forgotten in his excitement, and he waited eagerly for the boarding ramp to descend.

[Mags Sondeeta]

"'Ey, watch where you are going!"

It was the pilot he had bumped into. The Twi'lek's helmet thumped to the ground, dislodged from her grasp by the sprinting Nehantite. Mags grabbed him by the shoulder enough to spin him on his heel to face her.

"Zees ees a 'angar bay. Go running like zat and you could 'it your 'ead on a wing strut or knock some ordnance off...a..."

Mags eyes drifted to glimpse what was behind Freddie. All of the irritation on her face started to slacken.

"...rack."

[Fredal Rabeak]

If there were such a thing as a dignified yelp, that was not the kind that escaped Freddie's muzzle as he felt an iron grip come down upon his shoulder, halting his momentum entirely. Pink eyes wide, he looked up at the angry blue Twi'lek, his mouth open as a million apologies fought over which one would come out first. In the end, they all got stuck, so he stood there looking like a slack-jawed idiot. Offending pilots was something he couldn't afford, both figuratively and literally, as he needed one, just one to hire him for actual work.

Swallowing, he felt his tail begin to creep between his legs as Mags held him fast, and be blurted, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I just..." the excitement took over, and he pointed back at the colorful freighter. "It's the Quasar Fantastic! I've gotta go see it!"

Pulling away, hoping he'd be released, Freddie turned to continue his rush, now certain he was going to be behind some taller person and have his view blocked. Being 5'7", it was an experience he had become used to.

[Mags Sondeeta]

Not one to be easily starstruck, Mags was nevertheless vulnerable in the rare situation. Her pink eyes widened as Freddie's transgression was instantly forgotten.

"Zet anyyeu, eet ees. l'Quasar Fantastique!"

In a world dominated by engines and speed, it was easy to revere the rare few at the top of the pack. Her lekku curled up to her collarbones, and Mags gently eased them down with her fingertips before loping after the reckless Nehantite.

[Fredal Rabeak]

Saved by star-power, Freddie told himself. Easing out of the Twi'lek's grasp, he turned and rushed off once more, imagining what he might say if the astonishing Captain Maron was truly on board.

"Hi! I'm Freddie Rabeak! I'm amazing with engines, you should let me take a look at yours!" No, he shuddered, that would be just about the worst possible thing he could say.

"I'm your biggest fan! I've seen all your races!" No, too fanboy.

"Oh, wow, it's so cool to meet you! Can I get your autograph?" Maybe. Still fanboy, but more reserved.

"What's your dispersion rate for coaxium after initial burst, in sustained thrust, presuming no ionic storms nearby?" No, that was probably a trade secret.

Yet more greetings, questions, and terms of praise ran through his head as he worked his way through a growing crowd, unwilling to stand behind someone again for such a monumental occasion, and he bit is hip as he stared, seeing the access ramp click lose and begin to descend.

[Acheli San Maronea]

A few agonizing minutes passed. The Quasar Fantastic softly purred in cooldown, letting out sequenced bursts of compressed gas from her bleed-off nozzles. A horseshoe of gawkers and rubber-neckers began to form, and even a few people from outside the hangar had gotten the scuttlebutt from various sources. Eventually, the gangplank started to glide to the deck, followed by a series of whoops and cheers. Pocket holorecorders appeared out of nowhere, as every other person tried to become an amateur media content provider.

Finally, Captain Maron stepped down the plank. She wore her crimson pilot's jumper and bibb, with her pilot jacket slung over top, studded with the array of endorsement patches she represented. With one hand, Maron held a large piece of repulsor luggage that likely held a few days change of clothes and other sundries. Her other hand was free, so she waved to the throng.

"Hello Jovan Station!"

The Selonian's little ears perked, and she took it all in with bright-eyed patience. After all, that was part of her den training. She'd been raised from a pup to make connections with outsiders beyond the den, and that task required much in social nuance and charm.

[Fredal Rabeak]

From the moment the gangplank descended, Freddie's eyes were locked in tunnel vision, seeing only the Selonian and nothing else. He was sure he was smiling, though he couldn't feel his face due to the pounding of his heart as he stared on in awe. There, before him was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, living race pilot in the galaxy, and she just waved at him!

His knees suddenly felt weak, and he had to adjust his stance to keep from fainting due to the sheer shock of it all, as flashes from holocameras exploded all around him. There was so much he wanted to say, so many thanks he wanted to give, and such admiration to pour out to Maron, but he found himself frozen instead, dumbstruck by the experience of it all.

Only as the crowd parted to let Captain Maron through did Freddie remember his surroundings, and he dumbly stepped back, finding himself on the seam of the split. She walked toward him, and he grinned as he said, "You're the greatest race pilot of all time!"

Or at least that's what he meant to say. Instead, once again his words fought with each other, and what came out was, "Would you like me to get your bag, ma'am?"

Not that she needed it. Repulsor luggage weighed virtually nothing, and Maron was well taller and stronger than himself. Not to mentioned he was already burdened by his own heavy toolbag on its shoulder strap. A standard toolbag, not the fancy repulsor variety.

[Acheli San Maronea]

Maron blinked, and looked down at the scrawny kid who had blurted out the unusual offer. Didn't look like staff, alliance or otherwise. Definitely wasn't a porter. Just a Nehantite that looked like a gentle breeze would knock him over, and an oversized tool bag on his shoulder.

"That won't be necessary."

She paused, giving him another look. Maron's tail swish-shimmied as she gave it a second thought.

"But I think you'd like to."

She eased the carry handle forward for Freddie to take.

[Fredal Rabeak]

Freddie's paw came up to take it automatically, and he moved around to follow in his idol's wake.

What just happened? He asked himself. How did I just... I'm carrying her bag? I shouldn't be carrying her bag, I should be...

He looked on at the rest of the crowd, now wholly invisible to them as Maron smiled and maintained center stage. With her paws free, she was suddenly able to sign autographs, or pose for pictures, and do everything a galaxy-best race pilot was supposed to do for her fans. And there was Freddie, with both paws occupied to the point where he couldn't even fish a flimsie out of his pocket to get an autograph, himself.

Way to go Freddie, he mocked himself inside his head as his ears began to droop, despite attempting to keep up a positive face in the background. Yet another screw-up in the long line of screw-ups that was coming to Jovan. All he could do now was simply wait for Maron to tire of the crowd and move on, likely to some five-star, high-class, super-luxury hotel, while he wasn't sure where he'd find to stay the night. Still, he'd offered, even unwittingly, so he decided to see his task through.

[Acheli San Maronea]

Even after they cleared the throng in the hangar bay, it was slow going. People stopped and gawked the whole way. Plenty of pictures. The occasional autograph here and there. By the time they arrived at the floor of the suite Maron had pre-arranged overlooking the concourse, nearly an hour had passed. The prolongue gladhanding had an effect on Maron too. When they were largely away from the crowd, the Selonian eased down to all fours with a sigh.

"Ahh. That's better. Feels good to be on four legs again."

While Selonians could generally get about on two legs as well as four, standing upright for too long tended to become tiresome. Now lower than her valet, Maron looked up at Freddie.

"What's your story, kid? Couldn't help noticing that tool kit you're toting. You a mechanic by trade?"

[Fredal Rabeak]

The sight of Maron dropping to all fours was surprising, and Freddie likely didn't hide his expression well at all. In every picture or video he'd seen of her, she was standing, or sitting in her pilot's seat, but never on all fours. Technically Nehantites could run on all fours, but it wasn't terribly comfortable to do so, so he remained upright, still pulling her bag along while toting his own.

For that hour, he'd simply remained quiet and followed her lead, trying to stay out of holophoto backgrounds, and generally being as invisible as possible, to the point where he thought even Maron might have forgotten he was there. In fact, he'd been so quiet that when she posed her question, Freddie jumped slightly at the realization he was noticed again.

"Oh, um, uh," he stumbled for a moment, then took a breath to collect his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm an engine tech, mostly. I'm Freddie, Freddie Rabeak. I was the chief engineer for Sandblast Racing," he replied. Not that she'd even know about Sandblast Racing. And he was pretty sure that in order to be a chief engineer, your race team needs more members than just you and your pilot, but that didn't seem worth mentioning. "I came to Jovan because I wanted to go pro. It, uh... hasn't happened yet, but I'm sure it will. I mean, it has to, right?"

[Acheli San Maronea]

A racing engineer? That definitely explained the fanboying. Sandblast Racing wasn't a name that struck her, but Maron had participated in so many races against hundreds, if not thousands of opponents. She couldn't be expected to remember every little outfit. He was looking for an opportunity though, and Maron listened to him attempt to pump himself up.

"I don't want to discourage you, but more times than not, it doesn't happen that way, no. There are a lot of people who want to race, but success is bred from success. Most people don't get that shot. It's not for everyone."

It was difficult at times to juxtapose being a celebrity ambassador to your people with adhering to the tenets of the truth like all Selonians should. Sometimes the truth was hurtful. Sometimes it wasn't the best soundbyte. Sometimes it could color your image a shade darker than you wanted. She couldn't tell this kid that he'd make it if he believed enough, because that simply wasn't true. But then there was something else that he said. Something that made Maron halt in her tracks. The Selonian dropped her haunches into a sitting position.

"Wait, did you say your name was Rabeak?"

[Fredal Rabeak]

Freddie took another step before realizing Maron had stopped, forcing him to backpedal and come about in order to face her. Confusion became disbelief, became concern, became a slight twinge of fear on his face, and he nodded slowly.

"Y-yeah, Freddie Rabeak," he replied. "Why? Have you, um, heard of me?" In true teenage fashion, his voice hovered near cracking as he attempted to figure out just what emotion he was feeling at that moment.

What if she had? Had she heard something bad? Was she sitting because she knew he wasn't going to make the grade, and that she should sever ties with him already? Or, even worse, had she heard something good?

Wait, how can hearing something good be worse than those other things? Freddie didn't have an answer for that, but he certainly possessed the capacity to imagine a million possibilities, even the most outlandish.

[Acheli San Maronea]

"Rabeak, as in, Rabeak-tuned sublight engines?"

Maron didn't budge. Her ears were fully perked, and he had her full attention.

"I had a bit of a joyride with one of the fighter jocks escorting me in today. He claimed he had some special modifications."

[Fredal Rabeak]

The lump which Freddie struggled to swallow in his throat was nothing short of monstrous as he stood there, eyes wide and unblinking. She'd heard of him? Like, really, actually heard of him? And on top of that, an Alliance pilot was actually talking about the work he did?

"I, uh, yeah," he started to reply, forcing himself in halting fragments past his starstruck dumbness. "I did a rebuild and tune on an X-wing as a sort of application to be an Alliance tech when I got here," he explained. "They seemed to like it, but I did more than just a rebuild, and they weren't too happy about that part. I mean, yeah, it should be able to push 110, maybe 115 MGLT, but I can understand where they're coming from. Reliability in the long run. vs. speed? They're gonna go with reliability."

His tail flicked in annoyance as his ears drooped slightly. "So they decided not to go with me, either. Glad it's running well, though," he shrugged.

[Acheli San Maronea]

"Well, there's what's ideal for the military, and there's what's ideal for the performance circuit." Maron nodded along. "I can see why they would say no. I doubt a starfighter mechanic wants to do a rebuild on the same fighter every week. Race crews rebuild every other race, or sometimes every race if you're comfortable at the limit."

Maron's tail curled beside her.

"Mind me asking what you did? Trade and/or state secrets notwithstanding? There are a lot of design space limitations in ships that small. I'd be interested to hear about it."

[Fredal Rabeak]

A spark of hope and pride fired within Freddie's shell of nervousness and insecurity, bolstering him with the emergence of a personality unlike that which he had presented thus far. Ears rising, shoulders squaring - as best he could under the weight of his tool bag - and his narrow chest filling, the young Nehantite smiled. "Sure thing!" he nodded, an honest smile working up his pale grey muzzle.

"See, the Incom 4L4 engine is like, way old. Practically ancient," he said, apparently not realizing the irony of a seventeen year old calling something ancient. "But I've also had a fair bit of experience with them, and other fusial thrust engines. Yeah, the new 4j.4 engines are better, but most Alliance X-wings are still running the classic 4L4, because it's sturdier and you can get more parts and stuff."

It was at that point that he saw Maron growing impatient, so he hurried along to the good part. "Okay, so, in order to preserve longevity, most 4L4's limit the angle and pressure of their etheric rudders, which they use for thrust vectoring. But if you make some tweaks, and update the firmware, you can push those closer, as well as boost a bit of power to extend them, and by doing that you can create a tighter thrust cone, which improves propulsion force, giving you greater speed. Yeah, it causes some strain, but I didn't go too far, and if I had time, I'd have programmed in a failsafe to default back to factory specs once critical pressure or temperature levels were reached."

He wanted to move his paws, but as both were full, his head and tail took over his need for animation and gesturing. "That's just the start, though. Where you really get your power is in the fuel dispersion nozzles. Stock ones are clunky and imprecise, but if you can put on ones with a perfectly fine dispersion mist, you'll get a faster, more powerful, and more complete reaction, resulting in even more thrust. Combine greater thrust with a tighter thrust cone, you get a T-65 that'll make your head spin!"

Freddie's grin beamed by that point, his white teeth gleaming with pride, only to then fade as his shoulders fell again. "But, yeah, you're looking at weekly maintenance, for that kind of thing. I was used to racers, I was dumb and forgot that's not what the Alliance wanted to see."

[Acheli San Maronea]

He laid it on a little thick in technical terms, but Maron knew enough mechanic speak to discern the wheat from the chaff, and he certainly had enthusiasm to boot. As Freddie went on, the Selonian's whiskers raised genially. She nodded where appropriate, and let him say his piece.

"That's not bad, kid. You took an overbuilt system, and helped it to get out of the way of its own limitations. That's race mechanics to the letter."

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, different scenario. No stellar scram-loaded engines. A hybrid conventional and matter annihilation power plant. You top of at 75 MGLT on conventional thrust, and need to get to 120 under full reactor. Do you do it with a sympathetic two stage impeller, or flash the fuel igniters directly into the plasma stream and let the computer handle the pulses?"

On their faces, both answers were viable choices, but Maron wanted the kid to give her his reasons.

[Fredal Rabeak]

Freddie listened carefully, allowing the engine layout to assemble itself behind his eyes. After a few facial expression acrobatics in thought, he pinched his eyebrows and tilted his head just a bit in confusion.

"Why wouldn't you do both?" he replied. "Two stage impeller to get the most out of the mechanical portion of the system, then run a secondary fuel line into the plasma stream, igniting it like an afterburner on a traditional atmospheric jet? You'd have to set up some shielding, sure, but you could harvest heat energy and power a small shield generator, which would be programmed to form a shaped jar, of sorts, to both protect your physical equipment, as well as create, like, a high-pressure cone like I made with the etheric rudders on that 4L4. Get the best of both worlds, while also increasing thrust beyond the capabilities of either. You could probably push another five or ten MGLT off a setup like that, I'd reckon."

The boy's face was a vision of pride and accomplishment for having engineered that in his head on the spot. It was hardly a configuration he'd worked on before, but as he analyzed each portion, he didn't see why it couldn't work, at least in theory. Naturally no one was going to fund him to find out in reality, though, so a theory would have to do.

[Acheli San Maronea]

"And those gains take into account adding the extra weight of the heat sinks and the shield coils?"

Maron's whiskers swished slightly and her tail thump-thumped

"Not a bad concept, Freddie. Risky, but a good pilot accepts risk here and there."

She rose back to a two-legged stance.

"Sounds like you know your stuff. So what brings you to Jovan station, if you don't mind me asking? Sniffing around for military work seems beneath you."

[Fredal Rabeak]

His mouth opened for a reply, ready to explain how he'd already sorted out how to make it work, but instead of speaking, Freddie's frame shrank as Maron rose. Ears going back down, the meek, almost fearful young man returned as the proud and sure engineer vanished from his character, though he did perk up just slightly as he was mildly congratulated.

Hiking his toolbag back up on his shoulder, he prepared to resume walking, guessing that's what Maron had in mind.

"Actually, um, I was looking for any kind of work, really," he answered. "The station's chief engineer is a Nehantite, and he's kind of famous back home, as he used to run one of the orbital shipyards. I thought i'd come work on his team, and learn from him. But... that didn't really work out." It was a painful admission, and one he didn't especially want to dig in deeper about. He hadn't applied for a permit to work off-world, as he should have being under eighteen, which meant he had no actual job lined up with a sponsoring employer ahead of time. His age had further bitten him as some of the repair and rebuild shops aboard Jovan wouldn't hire a minor.

"So, I've been looking for whatever I can find, since," he shrugged. "Gotta earn enough to go back home, or something, but the market is a lot tougher than I thought. Still, someone's gonna need an engine tech, so I'll be there when that happens." The smile he gave was forced, a hint of panic behind it betraying far less confidence and hope than he attempted to display.

[Acheli San Maronea]

"Hmm.."

Maron scratched the tuft at her chin, thinking.

"My race crew should be coming in within the day. I plan on doing some promotions between here and the Carshoulis Cluster. I could see about an apprenticeship."

Holding out a cautionary paw, Maron threw the required cold water on the proposal.

"It doesn't pay much, and my chief is very picky, so you've still got to impress her. But I'll introduce you."

[Fredal Rabeak]

Some people could hide their emotions, some were good at poker, and some understood polite social interaction. Freddie was none of those people. He not only wore his heart on his three-quarter-length sleeves, he practically had neon lights broadcasting exactly how he felt at any given moment. They lit up like a gaudy Nar Shadda casino as Maron spoke of an apprenticeship with a real race team, and rainbows and unicorns glittered in his wide eyes until the caveat.

Still, for his streak of terrible luck thus far, the young man was unwilling to accept defeat, and he swallowed in order to find his voice, though his words appeared to be on back-order.

"Woah, I, er, um, wow, I..." he stammered, starstruck. Inside his mind was a tornado of insecurity doing battle with a tidal wave of ambition, and the crashing result came out. "I'll do my best, I promise! I... don't have a personal comm, anymore, but I can wait for your team in the docking bay! I may not have a degree, but I know I won't let you down! Er, her down. I mean, uh, both of you, I guess.."