Enter Cyclone

Codeman’s Ship Repair - Asteroid in the Ferrian Rim -

Cody wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. He pulled a microfiber cloth from his overall's back pocket and cleaned his greasy hands, grunting with tiredness and pleased that the task was finished.
He looked at the S-Class fighter glistening in the dim light of his workshop and grinned. He had finished it on time. The owner was due to come and collect it any moment now. He had not seemed the kind of man used to waiting for what he wanted. He looked towards the dying light of his smelting furnace, where Brigit lay curled by its base, napping and enjoying its radiant heat.

The last few weeks had passed by in a whirlwind. He had hardly had anytime to close his eyes to rest it seemed. The Ret'K vessel emergency repairs had paid handsomely all those months ago. With the reward, Cody added a couple more ship-bays to his shop, bought a handful of automated servitors from the Port-City of Phin to help him perform diagnostics and low level repairing tasks and had stocked up on new tools and stock. He was even considering hiring some help. Of course, the bigger his business became the more unwanted eyes would turn towards him. Sooner or later he would have to start paying one of the many gangs that controlled the sector, for protection.

Since the return of The Armada to the Rim, Cody had been flooded with work. And although he could only work on four ships at a time, word on the quality and efficiency of his handiwork was starting to get around.
The young man ran his fingers lightly over the sleek fighter's bulwark wondering where it had been, how many alien suns had shone upon its jet black body and how it had survived the journey back.

He could hardly believe The Armada was back. He was only a boy when the great fleet started their now infamous journey deep into the core systems of the galaxy. Those used to live under it's immense shadow rejoiced and doubted they would ever return. But return they did. Victorious, after a decade long war, thinner in number no doubt, but with cargo holds full of plunder. With men and women fashion from the tribulations of war. They left as the scourge of the Tempestas Rim and returned as living legends.

Cody's fingers reached out almost reverently to the ship's name plaque. He did not understand the language it was written in but the etching gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. Here he was, little Cody Lloyd Linderman working on a piece of living history. Touching the fabric of change.

- "Maravilha" -

Before his mind could contemplate any more, a buzzer went of on the far corner of his shop. He had arrived..

Brigit lifted her head lazily looking at the decompression chamber. Cody touched a few keys on his wrist pad allowing the man to enter as he walked to greet his client. The giant moved into the warm air of the shop, wisps of smoke trailing his steps as his grey exosuit, quickly exhumed the cold of the outside vacuum. The man reached up to his helmet releasing the safety clasps, bringing it down under his massive muscular left arm.
Cody bowed his head in greeting. "Welcome Veteran." he said as he had watched others do when in the presence of the returning members of the pirate flotilla.

The man grinned. His white teeth contrasting deeply with the deep dark hues of his skin . "Call mi Cyclone son. Cut dem polite words fi dem ahuu gi ah damn bout dem." Cody nodded smiling, immediately feeling at ease in the pirate's presence.
"A shi ready?" the man asked looking around the workshop. Cody nodded. The man spoke with an accent common to many of those that lived the nomadic lives in freighters across the galaxy. A bastardisation of the Low Galactic tongue and Ether, the language of space-farers.
The man whistled in appreciation when he saw the work Cody had done on his vessel.
"Yuh get har shinnin lakka ah newborn baby."

"It wasn't easy. I had to replace the coolant tanks and the subatomic resonator. I had never worked, or even seen, such a model before." Cody said not able to hide the pride he felt in his handiwork. "A couple of packs of the omhi-gel were completely burnt out and the crankshaft was cracked." he continued. " Some quicksilver mended that, as I don't have a way to get that specific part. I could maybe construct a new one from scratch but..." he trailed off he ne noticed Cyclone was not really paying attention to the finer details of his work.

"Yuh did gud son." The man said. "Shi luk fit as ah bud again. Ready fi ah few more dawg fights..." Cody watched as the man touched the ship name-plaque and the winged symbol next to it, closing his eyes, muttering some litanies the young man could not hear.
Cody recognised the symbol. The winged sword of the Archangels. He hesitated.
"Are you... Are you one of them? I heard they had all died..."
"Nuh. Mi flew wid dem. Even tek di oath buh mi did ah nebba truly one ah dem." a shadow crossed his face for a few seconds.
"Dis yah belonged tuh ah fren. Mi tek ih wen she dead." he smiled again to the young man. "Her saved mi yuh see? Fram ah life ah slavery. An mi tek di colours up eena fi er memory."

"So they are all dead? All the Archangels?" he asked not able to contain his curiosity. Cody yearn to know more about the Bloodshed Uprising from those that had lived and shaped it.

"Nuh. Deh a still one leff alive. Di meanest madda fucker ah dem all." his laughter boomed across the floor. "Dem cud'n kill him. Dem try buh he a jus tuh haad tuh puh dung."
"Nomad..." Cody whispered.
"Yah, di Void Reaver."

Cyclone looked around. "Yuh liv yah alone?" Cody nodded. "Nuh fambily?"
"My mum was on Trexin when the plague hit the planet." he whispered. " And my dad left with The Armada thirteen years ago." He looked at the man's eyes. "He hasn't come back looking for me yet, so..." he shrugged.
The big man placed a large hand on his shoulder. "Nuh one cum bac, son..."

"How much duh mi owe you?" Cyclone asked Cody, who started to wonder if he actually could get something a bit more valuable from the man than goods or credits...

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