Outside, Dalastine was dark in a way only a frontier world could be. But in the electronics workshop of the Republic fighter hangar, a man hummed merrily to himself. Dee Vostu worked best alone, and tonight he had a pile of life-support modules piled before him. Each one had its own particular issues he would have to tease out, snipping and soldering and salvaging until they were back to one-hundred percent. The Empire may have collapsed into a pile of two-bit warlords, but even training wore hard on starfighter components. If he managed to get through those, Dee was looking forward to tinkering with the faulty training torpedo the Tierfon Yellow Aces had kicked back to the mechanics last week.
Hmm. Maybe it's the SE12. They tend to overheat and get loose….
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