Chapter Text
A plume of black smoke billowed out of the hyperdrive, washing over Din’s helmet in a haze. He let out a heavy sigh and waved the cloud away. In a major stroke of luck the Razor Crest made it to Bivo’ri in the last possible moment. His hasty patchwork attempts to fix the hyperdrive had lasted just long enough to reach the planet, but as he inspected the charred and blackened machinery, Din knew it came at a cost. His own mechanic skills wouldn’t be enough now.
Din huffed in resignation and climbed up the ladder to the upper deck to begin entry into the planet’s atmosphere. As he piloted, he made a quick search for the nearest repair shop. He found one that seemed reasonable, and entered the coordinates.
Bivo’ri was a semiarid planet in the Outer Rim with a barren blue landscape pockmarked with the occasional patch of magenta plantlife. Before the war the planet was the leading provider for durasteel, until the Empire swooped in and bled the planet dry for all its resources. Since then, the planet’s surface was nearly abandoned. Only a small population of locals remained, consisting mainly of stubborn miners who refused to leave when everyone else had. Bivo’ri wasn’t the sort of place Din would normally visit just for the sake of visiting, but it was the place his next bounty was currently hiding out in.
The atmosphere of Bivo’ri was cloudy and gray, making it near impossible to see the lights of civilization on the surface. Almost immediately a thin layer of grime coated the cockpit windows. It wasn’t the first time Din landed on an industrial planet, but it was the most polluted. The air was so filthy, he had to rely on the nav computer to get him to the repair hangar.
After blindly following the navigation system, Din finally landed the Razor Crest in Hangar IV, the last hangar at Avand Repair and Reconstruction. Once the Crest settled on the stone floor, the set of large doors in the roof rolled closed, sealing the ship inside.
Avand Repair and Reconstruction’s Hangar IV was a near derelict building on the edge of the city. Like everything else on the planet, a thick layer of grime covered its exterior, with the interior not faring much better. The walls were rusted and covered in graffiti. Crates and loose starship parts piled up on the edges of the hangar, making Din wonder what kind of mechanic he was going to do business with. Well, there was no going back now, he told himself as he climbed down the ladder and pressed the gangplank button, they were expecting him now.
As the gangplank lowered, Din was met with the sounds of loud raucous music. The deep base pounded against his ears, making him frown. Once the gangplank lowered, he began making his way down.
As he exited the Razor Crest, he could see an older human man limping his way towards him with a datapad in hand. From the jumpsuit he wore, Din figured that was the overseer. Across the hangar, a worker with a welding helmet was welding a part on a partially dismantled speeder bike, their back to the two men. Sitting at the working’s side while rocking back and forth to the beat of the music, was a green astromech droid.
For a moment, Din slowed his step at the sight of the mechanical thing, but he quickly recovered, returning to his previous stride while keeping the droid in his peripherals. Din met the overseer at the base of the gangplank, where the man offered a rough hand to shake. He was noticeably missing a couple fingers, including his thumb, and Din couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at the potential quality of service this place offered. However, Din still shook his offered hand.
“You said in your message the hyperdrive is having difficulties,” the overseer spoke in a deep gravelly voice one only got after many years of death stick usage.
“It disabled mid-flight.”
“Any smoke?”
“A fair bit, yes.”
The overseer began pressing buttons on his datapad while squinting hard at the device’s screen. After a moment, the datapad let out a chirp and he let out a noncommittal hum. “We will need to run a full diagnostic first. I’ll send for the maintenance droids,” the overseer started making a motion to the worker but Din quickly interrupted him.
“No droids. Living beings only.”
The man swiveled to give him a confused look. “No droids?” Din shook his helmeted head. “It will cost ten percent extra for our mechanic’s labor,” he reminded the Mandalorian cautiously.
“Just have the mechanic do the job.”
The overseer shrugged and tapped on his data pad. “Alright then, more credits for us,” he said with a smirk before motioning to one of the workers. “Tull!”
The mechanic made no sign they heard him. They continued welding the speeder bike. The overseer called again but all it did was gain the attention of the droid. It let out a beep that was barely audible under the music. The man cursed to himself. “Deaf idiot, the music makes it worse. Tull!” He shouted again while waving his datapad over his head. The droid rolled closer to the worker and began tapping its head against their hip. That was what finally gained the attention of the worker.
Switching off their welding tools, the worker set them on the table to pat the droid’s head. Under the music, the astromech chirped and beeped at them, and the helmet cocked to the side in confusion. The droid beeped again, and finally the welder’s visor landed on them. The mechanic straightened up, lifting the visor to reveal a human woman’s dirty face.
“Yes sir?” She called out, squinting at the change of light. The overseer made a motion to switch off the music. Understanding passed over her face, and she reached down to the droid, closing an open panel on the astromech’s domed head.
Sweet quiet finally fell over the hangar, and Din felt like he could think again. The overseer motioned Tull to come over with a frown and she nodded, pulling the helmet off and setting it on the table. A long dark braid fell free over her shoulder. Din frowned when she patted the dome head of the droid before she made her way over to the two men.
“This one needs a full diagnostic run on his ship. No droids,” the overseer explained gruffly, shoving the datapad into her hands. A few loose strands of her dark hair fell over her face as she was reading and she distractedly blew them out of the way.
“No droid help?” she asked, glancing up from the datapad. When Din didn’t make a sign of answering she shrugged and returned her focus back to what she was reading. “Alright, I can respect that.” She switched the device off and tucked it under her arm. “My name is Breka Tull, nice to meet you.” She introduced herself in a cheerful tone with a voice as light and sweet as honey. Din internally groaned.
Breka extended her gloved hand for a shake and after a moment of consideration, he slowly moved to accept it. She excitedly took his hesitant hand and began shaking it with enthusiasm. “I have to say, it is an honor to be working on the ship of a Mandalorian!” she exclaimed breathlessly, “I have heard so many stories-.”
“I don’t pay you to gush, Tull. Get to work,” the overseer snapped and Tull dropped his gloved hand as if it burned her. She sent a sheepish glance in Din’s direction, then whipped around and marched past him to his ship. After offering the overseer a nod in thanks, Din followed after the mechanic.
“Oh she’s beautiful! ST-70, right?” Breka asked, running a hand along its hull.
Din ignored the question and rested his hands on his waist. “How long is a full diagnostic going to take?”
She took his lack of an answer in stride and dropped her hand off the ship to face him with a smile. “A few hours, at most. I’m not sure how long repairs will take at the moment, but once I have a proper look, I’ll let you know.”
Din led her into the ship to the hyperdrive where she stopped to stare at the blackened and charred carnage he left. The smell of burnt wires and smoke still lingered in the ship, even making its way into his helmet. She let out a low whistle, inspecting the mess. “Are you sure you don’t want a droid to help? It would go a lot faster–,”
“I said no droids,” he snapped.
Tull shrugged in reply and crouched in front of the hyperdrive, removing tools from her belt. Only a short moment of silence had passed before she opened her mouth, much to Din’s chagrin.
“So, you’re a bounty hunter, you must have traveled all over, huh?”
Din vaguely wondered how long it would take for her to figure out he wasn’t going to answer any of her questions. Hopefully soon.
The mechanic popped a panel off the hyper drive and found the controls with the connecting port. “Not me. I’ve only been to one other planet, even then I was only a child when my parents brought us here. This planet is all I’ve ever known.” She pulled out her handheld scanner and connected it to the port, pressing a few buttons on the device to begin running diagnostics. “Have you ever been to Itath? I hear it’s supposed to be a paradise of warm summers full of lush pink fields of wheat.”
“Can’t say I have,” he answered blandly.
Tull checked the scanner one last time, then set it down on the floor. “It will take a while for the hyperdrive diagnostics to go through, in the meantime I’ll do a manual check up of any wiring connected to it. Just in case that is the issue.”
Din folded his arms and frowned behind his helmet. “I already checked all the wires and connections, there wasn’t any issue.”
“Well,” Tull shrugged. “I’ll do a double check for you, just to be safe.”
Din opened his mouth to protest, but he was interrupted at a beeping coming from his belt. Letting out a quiet sigh, he pulled the fob from his belt and studied it. His bounty had to be nearby if he was getting feedback like this. He sighed again, then hooked the fob back to his belt. “Fine. Do what you want. I’ll be back later.”
“Don’t worry about your ship, Mandalorian. She’s in good hands.” The mechanic offered an encouraging smile but Din was already exiting his ship, leaving her alone without a second thought.