Chapter 7: Nuts and Bolts
The light that filtered through the cockpit viewport of the Stray Comet was the color of pale honey. On this side of Ryloth, the sun never moved, and the concept of "morning" was merely a matter of the ship's chronometer. For Jax, it was the first morning he hadn't woken up in an alley, having allowed himself the simple luxury of a cot in the ship's small, secondary bunk room. He was awake before Valerius, driven by a new and powerful sense of purpose.
When the captain finally entered the cockpit, a steaming mug of caf in his hand, he stopped dead in the doorway. Jax was already there, the power converter panel open at his feet. The new toolkit was laid out on a clean cloth with the precision of a surgeon's instruments. A soft, diagnostic light from the micro-scanner bathed Jax's focused face in a cool, blue glow.
Valerius took a slow sip of his drink, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't waste any time, do you, kid?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
"A partnership is only profitable if the ship is, Captain," Jax replied without looking up, his fingers deftly adjusting a tiny dial on the scanner. "And this ship isn't profitable while it's bleeding energy from a cracked cell."
A small grunt from Valerius was the only reply. He watched for a minute as Jax worked. The kid's hands were steady, confident. "Alright," the captain finally said, his tone shifting. "So what's the verdict… engineer?"
The new title hung in the air between them. Jax looked up, a faint, professional smile on his lips. "The verdict is, I was right." He angled the scanner's small screen so Valerius could see the data stream. "I've bypassed the cracked cell and patched the conduit. The system's stable now. No more flickering." He pointed to a diagram on the screen. "But… this conduit here is old. The shielding is brittle. It was designed fifty years ago to handle a fluctuating power flow. It's not meant to carry a clean, stable current like this for long. It'll hold for a while, but if we hit another rough patch like that asteroid field, it could rupture."
"So it's not fixed," Valerius stated, his voice flat.
"It's patched," Jax corrected. "To make it a permanent fix, we need a new part." He tapped the screen, highlighting a specific component. "A Class-4 shielded power conduit. About half a meter long. We replace this old one, and the converter will run at ninety-nine percent efficiency. We'll save another three percent on fuel, maybe more."
Valerius stared at the diagram, then at the impossible tools laid out on his floor, then back at the young man whose competence was both baffling and deeply reassuring. He saw the clear, undeniable logic in the kid's eyes. This wasn't a guess; it was a diagnosis.
He drained his mug and set it down on the console with a decisive clink.
"Alright, engineer," he said, a new energy in his voice. "Show me the specs on that scanner of yours. Let's go shopping."
Leaving the docking bay felt like stepping into a different world. The city of Lessu wasn't built on the ground, but into it. They walked along a wide, railless walkway carved into the canyon wall, a thousand feet above the canyon floor. The air was thin and warm, and the constant, shadowless light of the stationary sun gave the pale rock an ethereal glow.
'Vorlag smelled like hot metal and desperation,' Jax thought, taking in the sights. 'This place… this smells like money.'
The marketplace was a sprawling network of interconnected caverns and tunnels. Stalls weren't built, but excavated from the rock, each one lit by glowing, multi-colored crystals that cast dancing patterns on the stone ceilings. The air was filled with the scents of exotic spices and roasting meats, and the murmur of a hundred different conversations in the native Twi'leki tongue.
"Alright, engineer," Valerius said, his voice low. "Stick close. The merchants here can smell an off-worlder's credits from a klick away. Let me do the talking. You're my technical advisor. Just nod and look smart."
"I can handle that," Jax replied.
Valerius led him with unerring confidence to a section of the market dedicated to salvaged tech. They stopped at a stall run by a slick-looking Twi'lek with sharp eyes and an overly friendly smile. His stall was piled high with refurbished ship parts.
"The power conduit you mentioned," Valerius grunted, pointing to a piece that matched the specs. "How much?"
"For you, my friend, a special price! A fine piece, pulled from a nearly new vessel," the merchant chirped, his head-tails twitching. "One hundred credits."
"Seventy," Valerius shot back instantly. "It looks like you pulled it off a wreck that's been sitting in the sun for a decade."
As the two began their ritual haggling, Jax stepped forward, pretending to inspect the part. He ran his hand along its casing, his expression one of deep concentration. 'Okay, showtime,' he thought. He discreetly held his datapad near the part, its screen shielded by his body, and activated the micro-scanner app he'd found within the toolkit's software. The scan was instantaneous.
He leaned in close to Valerius, interrupting the captain mid-haggle. "Captain," he whispered, his voice low but urgent. "It's a dud. The internal shielding is frayed. My scanner is showing micro-fractures all along the casing. This thing would blow the second we tried to jump to hyperspace."
Valerius didn't even blink. He immediately straightened up and waved a dismissive hand at the merchant. "Never mind. My engineer here tells me it's junk."
The Twi'lek's smile vanished. "Junk? This is quality!"
"We'll pass," Valerius said, already turning and walking away. Jax fell into step beside him.
They went deeper into the market, to a smaller, less flashy stall run by a gruff, elderly Ugnaught who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. His parts were clean, organized, and more expensive. They found the conduit. Jax ran another discreet scan.
"This one's good," he murmured to Valerius. "Solid shielding, no energy bleed. It's new."
Valerius nodded and paid the Ugnaught's asking price—one hundred and twenty credits—from the ship's account without a word of complaint. As they walked back toward the Stray Comet, the new part secured in a case, the captain gave Jax a sideways glance.
"Good eye, kid," he said, his voice holding a tone of genuine respect. "That Twi'lek almost had me. You just saved us a hell of a lot more than the fifty credits I was trying to save."
Jax allowed himself a small smile. "That's what a partner is for, Captain."
Back in the cockpit of the Stray Comet, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and the quiet tension of a delicate operation. With Valerius watching over his shoulder, Jax worked with a surgeon's focus. His new tools felt like extensions of his own hands. He used the bond-breaker to carefully detach the old, brittle power conduit, its casing crumbling slightly as he removed it. He then cleaned the contacts, his movements precise and economical.
The new conduit, sleek and dark, slid into place with a satisfying, solid click. Jax used the plasma welder—a small, pistol-gripped tool that emitted a needle-thin point of intense heat—to seal the connections, his hand perfectly steady.
"Alright," he said, his voice calm as he closed and sealed the access panel. "That's it. Let's see what we bought."
He slid into the co-pilot's seat and initiated the power-up sequence. Valerius leaned forward, his eyes glued to the console. The ship came to life, not with its usual groan and flicker, but with a smooth, clean hum. The lights in the cockpit didn't just stop flickering; they burned with a bright, unwavering intensity Jax had never seen before. On the diagnostic screen, the power converter's output was a perfect, solid green line. Stable. Efficient. Healed.
The return trip to Vorlag was, for the first time, blissfully boring. The hyperspace jump was so smooth Valerius actually managed to fall asleep in his chair for an hour. The ship felt different under Jax's control—more responsive, more powerful. The subtle vibrations and rattles he had grown accustomed to were simply gone.
'This is how she's supposed to feel,' Jax thought, a deep sense of professional pride washing over him. He wasn't just a guest in this machine anymore; he was the one who had made it whole again.
They docked in their usual berth at Port Anteris without incident. While the cargo droids handled the unloading, Valerius finalized the transaction with the freight master. A few minutes later, he walked back into the cockpit, holding his datapad.
"Alright, partner," he said, the word sounding more natural on his lips now. "Here's the tally."
He showed the screen to Jax. It was a simple ledger. "Gross payment for the cargo," he said, pointing with his cybernetic finger. "Minus fuel—and we used six percent less than the outbound trip, just like you said we would. Minus docking fees on both ends… leaves us with a net profit of one thousand and twenty credits."
He looked up at Jax. "Twenty-five percent of that… makes your cut an even two hundred and fifty-five credits. Not bad for a few days' work." He tapped a few commands on his screen, initiating the transfer.
A moment later, the chime echoed in Jax's mind, louder and more satisfying than ever before.
+255 POINTS. NEW BALANCE: 256.
Jax stared at the number, a feeling of immense, solid accomplishment swelling in his chest. This wasn't a single, humiliating coin tossed in the dust. This wasn't a lucky wager. This was real. This was repeatable. This was the foundation.
Valerius looked at him, the old cynicism in his eyes almost entirely replaced by something else, something that looked suspiciously like a real smile.
"Welcome to the profit game, partner," he said.
Jax smiled back, a genuine smile of his own. The road to ten million points was still impossibly long, but for the first time, he was on a ship that was actually moving down it.