Got It Where It Counts

[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.."