Bankor

Barely anyone was there this morning, as they had only begun to pack up their supplies. It wasn't of his concern; just another theatre of combat he had to deal with. No, he was inside his ship, sitting in the pilot's chair, enjoying his caff. It was a darker roast, beans managed to be salvaged from the ship before.

Thankfully most of the crew here, including the Duros, managed to get everything how it mostly was.

No one else arrived yet, so he configured the music selection to his own preferences, chosing to play something of a Chissian number. It followed thru with a whimsicle note, the orchestra flowing along perfectly to the percussion. It was a good morning in the desert, and it would be a busy day at that. For now, he had returned to the only home he had known in years, its smoldering wreckage nearly a distant memory. It was time to start again, to learn from one's fault and failure, and to do ones best to not repeat them.

He couldn't repeat them again.

Hacha sits in one the the chair, swiveling around slowly as he taps at a borrowed datapad. As others think about it, they might wonder if that chair could swivel before. Hacha looks up every so often, peering around the room and smiling a little at his handiwork.

Not a bad job, not a bad job at all.

Of course, a lot of it wasn't his. Upon getting the Turtle back to the hanger, it had been swarmed with techs, all laboring to bring it back online. It had taken plenty of time to get it fixed up, but he could see the room for growth. This could be a very special ship indeed.

It had taken some of his political pull, and exertion of bureaucratic force. Luckily, that was an arena in which Durasay had expertise. Resources had been directed to quickly repair the Turtle. The armored Senator crossed his arms across his chest, as he moved down the main hall of the ship.

"It's amazing how she looks now compared to not so long ago, huh?" He called out, to no one in particular.

Durasay Mixo wrote:It had taken some of his political pull, and exertion of bureaucratic force. Luckily, that was an arena in which Durasay had expertise. Resources had been directed to quickly repair the Turtle. The armored Senator crossed his arms across his chest, as he moved down the main hall of the ship.

"It's amazing how she looks now compared to not so long ago, huh?" He called out, to no one in particular.

"Yes, it is." Hacha calls out, seemingly unaware that it might have been a rhetorical question. "Replacing the bantha leather paneling took a bit of creativity, but I think you can barely tell."

Craw was leaning against a bulkhead enjoying his morning caf.

"Important part is that they got her flying again..." He said gruffly.

"Ohhh yes, yes, yes. Very much, I thought I might die on the first ride over." Hacha bobs his head anxiously, seeming a bit uncomfortable surrounded by this much small talk.

Nudimsu stepped out the ship with his caff, eventually making his way outside of the hanger. "If you were to tell me she had been in a crash..." He takes a sip of his caff and places it down. "I could believe it, but then be impressed on how you managed to get it all back together again. Still, I wasn't expecting a miracle out here, and yet you and the other crew managed to do fairly well. You have my thanks Hacha; pass them along to the other crew." He nods to the others. "Busy day today, in the desert. Glad we got ourselves a mechanic now. I've never been to a desert before, but I'm sure we'd have to worry about the sand getting into the engines and everything. Sand gets everywhere, I hear. Such an annoyance to have to deal with it."