Bankor

Craw stood outside the Turtle, looking at it introspectfully. There were scars on it, scars that would stay on it for years to come, memories made in deep gouges of plasteel and metal. But all in all the repairs were coming along wonderfully.

Aran had spent some of the morning asking around the hangar about the Turtle. He found Republic mechanics and Navy crewers were happy to share the war story of breaking the blockade, especially with a young Padawan with a clear interest in ships with fast engines flown around with precision.

"Yeah, it was pretty kriffed up when it came in here," remarked one off-duty fighter pilot. "I thought it was scrap for sure. But I guess their mechanic's better at patching it up than the crew is at keeping it together in the first place." Aran thought that was unfair, but the man was apparently tired of praise being heaped on independent operators tagging along on a military operation. Aran shrugged and circled back to the ship.

Next to the Turtle was a tall man that Aran instantly recognized as Craw, both from the description's he'd sought out and the way he was staring at the freighter. Aran had never been part of a crew before, but he'd seen a tramp captain or two, and that was the way they looked at their livelihood.

He approached slowly, taking time to observe the man and also wishing to be deferential. A Jedi understood the importance of meditation, after all.

Craw was shaken from his reverie and returned to the hustle and bustle of the hangarbay. He turned around and saw the young Jedi.

"Can I help you?" He asked, curious.

Aran ducked his head in an abbreviated bow.

"Captain Tobaga? I am Padawan Aran Enfas. I had hoped meet you. I understand that you and your people gave much to break the blockade." His face, behind his sunshades, turn briefly to the Turtle.

Craw nodded smiling. "Yeah. Well. The ship gave the most of it. Us Crew made it out of it with minor injuries, thanks to the skill of our pilot I'd wager." He too looked at the Turtle again, committing the scars to memory.

"I have not met them. They must be very talented." Aran's serene face creased in a small smile. "I have never flown anything more than a landspeeder," he says, and then genuinely, "I greatly admire pilots." He turns to stand with his body and gaze matching Craw's. "I admit that I did not expect so many volunteers from outside the Order and the military. You bear great risk for a cause not your own."

Craw shrugged. "Well hell. I ain't a volunteer, I'm a merc." He paused. "Truth be told I don't believe in the republic at all, except maybe their capacity to pay their bills. I've been told they're better about that than the empire." He grinned.

Aran cocked his head. "Mercenaries still choose their causes... although in this case, I will take you at your word as to why." He smiled faintly back at Craw's grin. "I am curious -- have done more than heard anything of the Empire? I am still merely a Padawan, and during the late war I did not see a single Sith, except on the holocasts." His voice is neutral, not wistful, but it's not hard to imagine why a teenage boy might be curious about the legendary foes that made peace before he was old enough to fight them.

Craw laughed. "I've worked for damn near everyone in my time. I seen sith and jedi, I've wrestled with an acklay, but if there's one thing I am sure of it's this... If it moves, enough blaster fire'll bring it down." He nodded sagely.

Aran nodded along with Craw. "The Masters would call that a sound axiom." That was a half truth -- they'd hardly contest it, but they were much more concerned with ought than is. Still, Aran found that he was being charmed by Craw's apparently uncomplicated focus on the latter despite himself. "... an acklay?" he said, temporarily diverted.

Craw nodded. "Yeah, fucker came outta nowhere and boom dragged me underwater. Strong sonovabitch but didn't manage anything but knocking me out. So at the end I'd say it's a draw, since neither of us bit it." He paused. "Still, makes for a fun anecdote."

"You must have quite a few." Aran turned his head away from the Turtle towards the other man and regarded him carefully before speaking. "Captain, if I may I ask... why Bankor? Is there truly no better profit for less risk in the galaxy?"

Craw shrugged. "Eh.... Personal reasons... Mandalorian politics... And hell, let's face it... if it ain't this it'd be some other warzone. At least the scenery's nice." He chuckled.

"It is good to know one's path." Aran smiled back faintly, and then more genuinely. "It is a beautiful planet."

"Who are your crew? Do they have the same reasons as you?"

Craw chuckled. "Well aren't you curious. Well we got a chiss pilot named Nudimsu, Nudie if you prefer, another mandalorian named Nai'tiri and... Well for now we've got a republic councellor, Durasay and a reporter named Illyria. As to their reasons... Well, we're a crew. More than that I can't really say."

Aran ducked his head in an apology. "I am sorry. I was raised in the Order, and find much of life outside it as mysterious as people find the Jedi."

Craw shook his head. "Ehh, don't sweat it kid." He paused. "So what brings a padawan to a warzone?"

"The Masters directed me to aid in the liberation of this planet," he answers automatically, and then with more thought, "They hope that the experience will account for certain gaps in my training."

Craw raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. "Well I guess it does make sense. Ain't nothing make a man faster than a whole buncha life or death situations in rapid succession... And that's basically what a war is for any given soldier."

Aran tilted his head a few degrees from side to side, considering. "I will meditate on that." He turned away from the ship to the man, and bowed shallowly, his head more than his waist. "Thank you for your time, and your thoughts, Captain Tobaga."