On the way, Tech was inspecting the repairs. He followed a few wires, brow furrowed as he calculated their paths. He traced them again, from the base of one plug to the port it entered. Lowering his visor, he considered the blueprint for this particular capacitor, noting the differences before him. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and raised a finger to his ear.
"Hunter?"
"Go ahead," came the reply.
"I cannot determine precisely how, but the capacitor is functioning at twice the usual limit. It's as if the wattage has been doubled, yet all I can see are some crossed wires that, by my estimation, would overload it if ignited. Yet, it is running efficiently and showing no signs of deterioration. I am concerned that our new passenger may plan to sabotage us, but I do not yet see how."
"Why don't you go find out?" Hunter responded.
"We both know that is a job far more suited to you, as I lack the traditional social skills to navigate such a precarious retrieval of information," Tech responded, corners of his mouth frowning with unease.
"That wasn't a question, Tech."
The transmitter clicked off. Tech lifted his visor, took one last long look at the capacitor, and closed the panel. It seemed like a ridiculous waste of time to question the hostage, as she was surely unwilling to comply with any requests that weren't her own. But his curiosity was getting the best of him. The capacitor simply should not be functioning at that level.
He turned toward the lift and the door slid open in front of him. He stepped inside, activating his recording system as the doors closed and the floor lurched downward. A moment later, the door whooshed back, revealing a less-than-hospitable cargo hold with a makeshift prison on one side.
The lights were dingy, though thankfully not flickering. This was an area more suited for Wrecker's living quarters, piled high with dusty supplies and dirty crates. The prison had held a number of quarries over the years and had been modified and improved with each use. Tech ascertained it as he approached; it seemed intact and he had every reason to believe it was.
And there was the prisoner. Vel, she had said. No last name, no other information. She sat on the bench, knees folded into her chest, arms across the top. Her head rested on top of them, face downward, hair scattered across. Tech hesitated, unsure if this was a good time. He started to turn back toward the lift when he heard a dry voice.
"What do you want?" she asked, not moving from her position.
"I am sorry to interrupt," Tech began, "But I was looking--"
"What is it you're interrupting? My pointless captivity? Being held against my will by you 'heroes'? I'm not exactly studying Zygerrian jewelry making in here."
"Ah, yes. Good point. I am unsure as to the future plans for your placement," Tech responded, uncomfortable yet unfazed, "But I would be remiss if I did not inquire further as to your repairs on the Marauder when I was... unavailable."
"Yeah, you like that little trick?" she said, still unmoving. "I used to make a lot of money with that modification. Off the books, of course."
"You've done it on other vessels?" Tech asked, coming closer now, "How did you manage to adjust the wattage to avoid overheating, considering the specific limitations of different ships?"
"I didn't cross all the wires, only certain ones. Positive charges cancel each other out, right? But increasing the overall function is possible by overriding the capacitor's internal regulator. They use the same model on a variety of ships, but instead of building them all different sizes, they just adjust the regulator. I don't know where you got yours, but it was set for a ship half this size."
At this, Tech stiffened slightly, "We bartered for it in a Corellian shipyard, with a trader who knows his machinery inside and out. I personally ensured that it was compatible with our system."
"Ah, Corellian. What a surprise. They would never lie for profit, would they?" Vel replied.
"Well, I suppose anyone would lie for profit, but I cannot see the reason that this particular--"
"Believe whatever you want, Tack. It's working better now, isn't it?"
"Yes. It is. And it's 'Tech', for the record," he said, looking up the purchase order and merchant history on his datapad. He turned to leave, typing away, but paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder.
Vel was still curled up, rocking her head back and forth ever so slightly, lifting one foot and then the other, in a pose that was somehow defeated yet indignant.
"Would you like some additional sustenance?" Tech asked, bringing up the inventory on his screen. "It is my understanding that the rations can become tiresome to those who prefer variety."
Finally, movement. Vel lifted her head from her arms, messily textured hair shifting back around her face. She was incredibly plain, with virtually nothing to distinguish her from so many others of her kind. Clothed in a simple black tunic, grey leggings, and black boots, she could be dropped off at virtually any spaceport and blend right in. She tilted her head to the side, regarding the clone in front of her with a jaunty air.
Tech waited for an answer, remaining silent as he observed her response. She pursed her lips, seemingly torn between the desire to be completely independent and the desire for anything but the dull ration bars that had been her diet since her capture.
"What does it matter?" she asked, leaning back against the wall to unfold her legs in front of her. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, returning her head to the bowed position in her hands. "I've got nowhere to go and nothing to do. Might as well have nothing to eat."
"I fail to see the line of reason throughout those statements," Tech replied, adjusting his visor down over his goggles, "But I will accept your decision." With no further indication of interaction from Vel, he turned to the lift and stepped inside, watching her for a moment before the doors closed.