Scrapheap Challenge

Posted on Wed Apr 29th, 2020 @ 3:56pm by Reave & Kalen "Rex" Vickers & Amare & Mentis
Edited on on Tue Sep 8th, 2020 @ 10:39pm

3,304 words; about a 17 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Mechanic Shop, Capital City, Alba, Outer Rim Alliance
Timeline: End of Week Four, after "Sibling Rivalry"

OLD

The Jawa then raised a gloved hand towards the distance, a stubby finger pointing at a wide alleway that appeared to lead away from the main shops. Sure enough, a hand-painted sign had been nailed into a wall, just visible, with a poorly-scrawled image of an astromech droid drawn next to the word DROID in Aurebesh. A Cathar with an irregular off-brand protocol droid walked out from the alleyway, as if to further confirm the fact.

"If you guys have kissed and made up, that seems to be as good a place to start as any," Rex said to the two Force users, his tone more than a little mocking.

Mentis smirked again, for the second time in a matter of minutes, which was rather a record for the former cultist. Reave's familiar indifference and tunnel vision, along with Rex's usual cheerful nerves seemed to lift his spirits.

"Lead the way, Reave," Mentis called to the Jawa, "You'll find us the parts for this ridiculous old droid in no time."

In response, Reave simply made a rude gesture with his hand.

NEW

The smell of lubricant, oil and rust greeted the mismatched quartet as they entered the off-street vendor. The interior of the metalworking shop was larger than its exterior had given it credit for. It stretched far back and across, but the expansive area was almost entirely subsumed by the number of droids, components and vehicular parts - all in various states of disrepair - scattered about the floor, or suspended from the walls or ceiling.

A few ceiling fans spun lazily and ineffectively, pushing warm air unnecessarily about the chaotic chamber. Three other patrons were ambling about the area, but by the standard of their dress, they did not give the impression of being actual customers. Instead, given the pointing and muttering they were doing, they could easily have been tourists.

"Now, this," Rex began, walking ahead of the group, throwing his arms up to gesture at his surroundings and turning to look back at Reave, Mentis and Amare with a jubilant expression, "is more my kinda place!" He put his hands on his hips, spun around and was immediately rushing over to an old 'Gonk' droid that was slowly lumbering its way across the shopfloor. "Damn, this thing is ancient!"

"Over five centuries," came a gruff but pleasant voice from behind the wide bar that separated the main shop from a staff area.

A singular open doorway was built into the wall behind the bar, and a large felinoid figure came out from within, scrubbing the dome of a pit droid's cranial unit with a worn-looking cloth. Now in full view, the shopkeeper's hulking species was identifiable, although some of his Togorian menace was minimised by the kind expression on his face, and the tattered overalls that barely covered his great frame. "Not for sale, though. I've a soft spot for it." He gestured with the cloth to the Jawa, Nautolan and Rattataki with the Human. "These folks with you? Strange little group, this far from the Republic."

Amare exchanged a glance with Mentis, offered him a quick shrug, and turned to silently browse the surroundings, her deep and dark eyes casually scanning the shop for anything that resembled a usable component for her future lightsaber. She preferred to leave the business with the broken Sith droid to the boys who were more adept at the welding and tinkering. Her contribution would be handling the programming part once the hardware was in place.

With Rex giving him an equally dismissive expression and Reave being Reave, Mentis realised he was to be the designated negotiator. He was not unfamiliar with trade and negotiations, having often served in this capacity for the cult. While his fellow cultists felt wordplay beneath them and would much rather negotiate with the end of their blades, Mentis often found it important to know when not to make a scene and when to make friends and not enemies. Nala was much the same, although her charms were slightly different to his own.

"Good morning, sir," Mentis tilted his head slightly and gestured around, "Yes, we are all together. We stumbled across your fine shop and thought you might have something of interest to us or be able to lend us your expertise."

The Rattataki wondered if he was laying it on too thick as the Togorian's brow edged up slightly and he could feel Rex's gaze burning into him from behind, "I suppose we do make quite the odd party, now don't we?"

Amare stifled her laugh down to a giggle, "That's no lie," she remarked just as she thought she saw some spare power modulation circuits sitting in a dusty old cardboard box sitting on the floor adjacent to a workbench. Unfortunately, the diameter of the wires looked too thick and the insulation cracked and too brittle to be useful for a lightsaber.

"'Sir?! My fine shop!?" The shopkeeper burst out in uproarious laughter, even banging a hefty-sized paw onto the bar in front of him, the sudden gesture making some of the other patrons jump up in alarm. After he recovered, wiping a fake tear from his eye, he gathered his composure and smiled widely at his customers once more. "I like you," he said, pointing a claw at Mentis. "What do you good sentients need then, hmm? I'll help you to the best of my abilities."

Rex did not say anything just yet, but shook his head with a smile at the manner by which Mentis addressed the shopkeeper. "I like you, too," he muttered with amusement to his friend.

"The silly boys here are looking for parts they need for a droid repair project," Amare interjected with a casual hand gesture towards Mentis in particular. "A really, really old droid. And I'm..." she paused for a second to consider her words, "...seeking parts for something a bit more exotic. A handheld weapon, but not a blaster. Oh, and don't mind the Jawa; he's housebroken and very nice when you get to know him."

Although he was tall, the Togorian pulled himself onto the counter quickly, so that he could better peer over at the diminutive alien huddled with the others. Reave hissed something unintelligible at the shopkeeper, who briefly recoiled - quite the sight, given the size difference - but he laughed in good humour, anyway.

"I somewhat doubt the verity of your claims regarding the little one, madam," the large mechanic said in a tone as kind as his smile, pushing himself back to his former position. "As for what you're after, well..." He gestured to the broad array of parts and equipment lying around. "You'll need to be a little more specific regarding your droid - maybe bring it to me, if it's that old. I love an antique. Might even make you an offer. As for your, uhh," he grinned knowingly at Amare, "your lightsaber, what are you missing?"

Even as he asked the question, he had leant beneath the counter and a loud rummaging could be heard, along with a few curses on an old Togorian dialect, barely understandable to even the more linguistically gifted. He returned with a tray broader than his chest, which he placed atop the counter.

"All the basics are there, madam. We've got lenses, emitters, conductors, insulators, a few parts that could serve as outer casings..." The parts were strewn about the case, entirely disorganised, which was only made worse by the owner brushing his large paws through the selection. He then looked up, and seemed to notice the glances he was getting from the group. "You're not in the Core, any more. We get Rift Knights come this way, as well as collectors. Things are run differently out here; you've got to be smart with your kit - and your buyers. If you're looking for more exotic pieces, either for aesthetics or to alter its functioning... Well, you'd best look around the shop. Nearly all of it's for sale - for the right price."

Mentis was pleased he had won favour with the shopkeeper and Rex's own comment had urged a small grin out of him, "Well, then Amare," he nodded towards the parts, "Seems you'll be all right with those parts there."

Stepping closer, he picked up a lens from the tray and gave it a glance. It was heavily scuffed but not cracked as often salvaged parts were. Putting it back down, he pulled the datapad he had been holding back out and brought up the droid's details once again.

"Regarding the droid, I have schematics here," Mentis gestured for the shop owner to take the pad, "I doubt you can find any of the original parts in today's galaxy, but there may be some more modern equivalents you can identify for us."

Amare approached the counter and peered down at the assorted collection of parts. Seeing all the spare bits and bobs vaguely reminded her of her adoptive father's workshop back on the Wolphs' C-shaped island home on Glee Anselm where she grew up. She was always better at reading, writing, and solving math problems than doing the actual engineering work her father was so fond of. She recalled the few times her pa'pah had enlisted her help to pass him tools whilst he worked on his prototype deep submerging vehicle. She also recalled the times when she saw that her brother, Capo, got to learn the actual engineering with their father whilst she was left out. Even when she protested by proving she could identify every part and know what each tool was, her father always denied her and would say, "It's too dangerous for little ones like yourself. Maybe when you're older, then we'll talk." However, he never made the time to teach her. Capo, in his usual mean way had said, "Look, this kind of work, well...it's too much for a girl to handle. Now go home and help with the chores."

Dousing her mind out of its unpleasant nostalgia, and knowing there was no fooling the shopkeeper, she asked, "Is there anything here you would recommend that would fit something like this?" Amare produced the emitter matrix Bomoor had gifted her a short while ago and held it out to the feline man for what she hoped was his expert opinion. Being in close proximity to the Togorian, however, had brought her into contact with tiny follicles of shed fur in the air. They started to tickle her nose and play havoc with her sinuses.

"Hmm? Oh." The shopkeeper looked up from the datapad provided by Mentis that he had been gently clawing at, possibly struggling to navigate its small design. "I was under the impression that was a kind of, well, personal thing for you Jedi types."

Even though he made the comment, he placed down the pad and began examining some of the assortment, picking out a few choices pieces that could serve as pommels and the main shaft. "In terms of internal components, the cheaper stuff is a matter of personal choice, but if you want to do some fancy stuff, I might have some precious metals." He picked up a lens. "Only one of these I got, though. Once managed to source an Adegan lens for a travelling Rift Knight, but a lot of that's dried up."

He placed a few more components into small groupings, being a mixture of squared and ridged pommels, ridged grips for the shaft, and a combination of silvery and blackened metals to choose from. After eyeing Amare cautiously for a moment, he tapped a claw onto one of the shinier segments he had revealed.

"Songsteel alloy," he explained, and although the metal was almost luminescent, it was scuffed, notched and marked in certain areas. "That Rift Knight traded it for a reduction on the lens. It's not cheap, but has remarkable properties. Physically, probably can't take much of a whack, but no lightsaber blade is going to slice through it." He leaned forward again on the counter, looking at his Nautolan customer with interested eyes. "There's a merchant nearby, has all sorts of baubles and gems. I'd be able to get you some focusing crystals, dependent on what you're after."

In as subtle fashion as Amare could muster out of respect, she directed her feelings inward to shift the flow of the Force to help her hold back a sneeze whilst beholding the masterwork metal.

"This is songsteel?" she asked the Torgorian with almost childlike fascination. "It's lovely. It glimmers like pure silver." In a small display of her power, she held her hand to the songsteel shard and gently directed it to her awaiting fingertips. She could almost instantly tell that it was made with the weapon of a Jedi in mind.

She surmised that the Rifter may have been desperate for that lens to give up something so rare and useful. She wondered if it was telling of the overall financial situation of the Rift Knights as a whole, or if the adventuring Knight simply had a preference for something else.

"It...it speaks to me somehow," she said softly to the shopkeeper, and partly to herself with a delighted smile. Despite the unfortunate blemishes, the silvery sheen played positively to her senses, and made her feel more calm and focused simply by looking at it. "My grandfather, Kenzen, used to mine and shape this metal on Cularin. Perhaps we can come to an agreement if it has a matching pommel." She turned to her companion from Tatooine, "Rex, you have an eye for details. Do you think this part can be repaired?"

For a moment, Rex looked surprised, and he gestured to himself with two splayed hands, but it quickly gave way to an easy smile. He seemed happy that Amare had even considered him in that way. "Uhh... sure, yeah." He sidled over and took the metal from Amare, turning the precious material in his calloused hands carefully, examining the notches.

"Another artisan?" The Togorian asked, eyes alighting again. Neither Jedi Force powers nor possible competition seemed to weather his outgoing nature.

Rex grinned back. "Not exactly. May I, though?" He gestured to the littler jeweller's lense that hung around the shopkeeper's neck, which he handed to Rex with a smile, who examined the metal a little more closely. He made a clicking noise with his mouth and shrugged a little, before passing the metal back to Amare. "I reckon so. I mean, it'll take ages. Songsteel's a bitch to work, right?"

The Togorian gave a reluctant nod. "'Fraid so. The pommel I got is also in that sort of state. With enough time and patience, it could be made to like pretty fine. If you had time - it's going to take a few standard weeks - I could work it for you. You might get it done sooner yourself - if you've got the kit and skill." He pulled out another box, this one smaller with a lock. He unclasped it, and whilst he did not show off the contents to the others, he retrieved the pommel. Like the shaft, it was scuffed, and there was even a small dent, but it had the same magical glow as its counterpart. He offered it to Amare.

"I trade in obscurities or credits," the mechanic added kindly. "Fine jewels, weird devices and objects - like your Rattataki friend's ancient droid - or other remarkable alloys. What I would give to hand my hands on some pure beskar."

"Beskar?" Amare echoed the name, genuinely having almost no clue about the metal that carried far more status and legendary notoriety than even songsteel. "Um...is that valuable?" she asked innocently, embarrassed at the looks she was getting from everyone else in the room who were much more worldly than her. Even Reave looked like he was shaking his head at her. If it was one thing Amare hated more than most was lacking knowledge that everyone else seemed to have.

"It's the metal the Mandalorians are associated with," Mentis answered, quite happy to impart this fragment of knowledge the young woman did not possess, "They horde it for their own armour and weapons to the extent of fanaticism, finding it distasteful when non-Mandalorians possess it."

He eyed the shopkeeper, "Not that they're the only ones who can work it, mind you, but you have to be careful who you show it to. Those Mandalorian Exiles are a nasty bunch."

"So...if we were to acquire a certain amount of this beskar for you," Amare began to weave her way towards a hopeful deal with the opportunistic Togorian, not wanting to spend what few personal credits she had left, let alone dipping into Lord Serus' account again, "would that cover all the parts we would need for the droid and the lightsaber?"

The Togorian looked ready to laugh, his massive form getting ready to heave with the effort, but as he properly caught the expression worn by the expectant customers, he stopped himself. A slightly affectionate look crossed the large felinoid's face, instead, when he must have realised how serious they actually were.

"I... don't expect that of anyone," he said, watching them and visibly thinking. "I tell you what; you guys give me a down-payment and the parts I've got in stock are yours. I get the feeling you lot mean what you say, so you come back with some beskar and I'll release the money back to you - and anything else fancy I can get my hands on for your saber and droid."

The shopkeeper then marched to the back of the staff area he was in, using a tool to artfully remove some sort of component from a suspended droid, and also picked up another piece that was resting on an ancient workbench just beside it. He brought the two pieces over and placed them on the counter in front of him.

"It won't be that straightforward to install them," he said, then gesturing to Mentis' datapad with his chin, "but they should be compatible. That's a parabolic guide and a differential regulator. That's only the start for your little project, mind." He sniffed as he picked up the pad and examined its readout again. "Vocabulator looks good, at least." He then frowned. "Adaptive linguistics?" He looked back to the group, to Rex's corny awkward smile and then to the serious Mentis. He then shrugged and put it down again. "Whaddya say to that offer, then?"

"You don't trust us quite enough not to have to put down a deposit," Mentis raised an eyebrow, "But, then again, I wouldn't have expected you to be half as open to these projects as you are."

The former cultist walked forward and examined the device the Togorian had called a 'parabolic guide', "Perhaps there is one more thing you can help us with to sweeten the deal," Mentis held his chin thoughtfully, "The droid's central processor is corrupted. Without it, the droid won't boot and these components won't be of much good. Do you think you could take a look at that too? I think we could all agree to a deal then."

"I like challenges," the Togorian huffed after a few more moments of thinking. "And I like you. Give me an afternoon and I'll get your wonky processor working." He extended both paws out to Mentis and Amare, seeking to shake their respective, albeit far smaller, hands in a gesture of goodwill. "I think we're going to make just fine partners, my new friends. Your little circle of acquaintances just got stranger."

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