A week had passed since that fatidic encounter at the bar. As a precaution, Vindril had decided to lay low for a whole week, just to make sure he wasn't being followed by anything, or anyone. Were it not for that inconvenience, he would have raced to the Hangar where his ship was currently being worked on the moment he had received the news that some major improvements had been completed. Instead, he had to wait. And wait. And wait.
But finally, after all that pointless wasted time, he was now right outside the very familiar defence mechanisms of his favourite shop, Mach I.
Even if the sun was beating down on the earth and on everything that was on it like a merciless hammer, and he felt like even his innards were sweating by how hot of a day that was, he didn't care. He was just so happy to be finally allowed to take a glance at what was going to be his closest and, fate allows, longest companion, that his heart was beating so much in his chest that he could clearly feel the pulsations inside his head.
The walk to the Hangar, after passing the customary procedures to be allowed entry inside the shop's confines, was a short one, all things considered. Vindril passed through many ships of all kinds, from the big and budget friendly mercantile ones, to the rapid and combat ready fighters. However, even if he was surrounded by so much stuff he adored, he felt completely alone. Not even a living soul was in sight. None. The only sounds he was hearing were his footsteps, his own heart that was beating like crazy, and the deafening silence that was louder even than sonic booms.
However, that silence didn't last long.
As he approached the closed metal doors of the Hangar, which had the letters 4-V painted all over them, metallic sounds began appearing. Even through those thick and full of sand doors, he could hear clearly the repetitive sound of a hammer hitting bare metal over and over again. He could also hear a plethora of curses being thrown freely in there that made him smile. No matter how much time had passed since he had worked in that kind of environment, the freedom to casually curse out loud without giving a damn was something that had sticked with him to that day.
Needless to say, said freedom of speech only got stronger when he touched the holographic intercom mounted on the left.
"Who the fuck knocks on those doors at this time of day? Huh? Who the fuck are you? Are you going to answer us, or are you going to remain silent like the goddamn pain in the ass that you are? So, what's it going to be?"
Vindril smirked. That was Jarik, the chief mechanic. There was no doubt about it. The last time they had gone out playing into one of the gambling houses available to the correct clientele, he had literally drank so much that he had passed out. Not before having a drunkenly conversation with him.
"Open up, you dumb fucker! It's friggin hot out here." he screamed.
A loud series of sounds, like metal objects being knocked down to the hard ground, reverberated on the steel doors. Some seconds later, the small door on the side was thrown open with such force and disregard that it loudly hit the gigantic gates behind it.
"Who was it? Who's the dead piece of shit that has ca-"
Vindril didn't utter a word. Instead, he stood there motionless, simply smiling from ear to ear. It had been quite some time since he had last seen him, but much like he had though, he had not changed in the slightest. As far as he could tell, he was the same old Jarik, with his abundant love for alcohol and questionable jokes.
"Hey! You asshole!" said Jarik after the initial shock had passed. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Yurian called me. Said there are some things I have to see. I hope good news."
"Well, it depends. While the hull as a whole has come along nicely, and some of the hardest parts to acquire have finally arrived after some maddening searches, there are still some points that must be-"
The chief mechanic fell silent, his eyes opening wide.
"You…You…damned bastard!" he said happily.
A punch hit Vindril right in the left arm. He could have easily avoided it, but it wasn't a hit that had any ill intention behind it. Far from it.
"You should have told me it was your ship we have been working on in the last couple of months. Shit!" he exclaimed happily.
"To be fair, I have been busy. And it's not like I told Yurian to keep the fact that it's my ship hidden from anyone. Well, at least from you guys. Given the particular model we're trying to resurrect, you can understand the problems we're facing."
"Understand? I can fucking tell you a thousand different reason why you should have never bought this…marvellous death trap." For a brief moment, his mechanical fascination got the better of him. A thing that didn't seem to have perturbed him in the least. "Dammit! What the fuck were you thinking? Have you finally gone mad?"
"Hey!" said Vindril, putting his hand on his chest to feign offence. "While I do admit it's an infamous ship, it's also one of the best in the whole galaxy. You know it. I know it. Everybody knows it. And with the upgrades you guys are installing, it's bound to be even better than before."
"That still doesn't make it worthwhile." he said. "What the hell are you going to do if someone recognizes this relic from the past? Most people are going to shoot you down before you could even try anything."
"Then let's hope I find a really good pilot to join me on my wondering through the galaxy."
The man sighed out loud. "You're fucking crazy, you know that?"
"Yes." said Vindril smirking. "Have you just figured that out?"
"Eh! Alright, follow me. We still have a lot of work to do before sunset, so make your visit brief and painless."
//////
At first, Vindril simply had not uttered a word, no matter how much he wished to. That was a unique event, given how he seemed to always have the answer ready no matter what. But the mixed shock of finally seeing with his own eyes the nude metal of the ship had been evidently a bit too much even for him. After all, it was his future those people were working on. It would have been strange if he had not reacted the way he did.
Fortunately, his acumen made short work of that unsettling sensation. There was no reason to worry. He could trust them. Well, he could trust their experience. Those were men and women hired by none other than Yurian, personally handpicked by him. Now, he might have doubted anyone else, but he certainly couldn't harbour such ill sentiments towards a person like him. Sure, he too had his shortcomings, but Vindril was sure he could have trusted him to keep his word. At least when a business deal was on the line. Money was, and was always going to be, one of his great loves.
It was also reassuring to Vindril that he maintained a sort of moral code during those deals. Many people all around the galaxy wouldn't have disdained screwing him over just to obtain some free money, one way or the other. That was just the way the galaxy was. Vindril had learned that at a young age that it was no place for the weak. But here on Keelo Prime, strange as it might have been, he could relax. Nobody would have screwed Yurian over. Not even the top powers on that rock dared to anger one of the richest men in the entire system.
After finally setting those thoughts aside and catching a calming breath that filled his nose and lungs with a metallic smell, Vindril examined all the progress that had been made on the vessel. Needless to say, the very first thing he noticed was the total lack of the panels that used to cover the inner structure of the complex machine. He clearly remembered how dusty and time worn had been when he first set his eyes on it, but he had also hoped they could have been saved from the scrapyard. Apparently, his wish had been a little bit more than a vain hope.
He sighed. That had not been included into the quote Yurian had a given him. Dammit.
"Ahhh, I see you haven't lost time." said Yurian, who had just gotten out of a small enclosure to the right. "Not that I expected any different, mind you. I know very well how…impatient you can be at times."
"Impatient?" asked Vindril keeping his eyes glued to the vessel. Or what was left of it. "I've waited all my life to reach this point, going from one end of the galaxy to the other just to raise the necessary sum to buy my dream. And you're calling me impatient? C'mon…"
"Still the same, eh? Well, it's not like I mind, really."
"Ehi, there's a reason if you've asked me to carry out that small favour for you all those years ago."
"I guess that's true. I also see you're completely enraptured by the work we've done. Let me tell you, it has been a pain in the ass."
Exactly in that moment, a short man, no taller than Vindril's shoulder level, popped out from within the vessel. "YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN, DAMMIT!"
By the way those words rolled of his tongue, that must have been Dietrick, the electrician. It was a well renowned fact that he was a master at his job, even attracting customers from all nearby system. It was also renowned far and wide how loud mouthed he was when he had to face certain difficult jobs. And rewiring an entire vessel certainly fitted into that criterion.
"Ignore him." said Yurian. "He's just being a pain in the ass."
"FUCK YOU!"
"Exactly."
Vindril rolled his eyes, grinning. Ahhhh, he had to admit he sort of missed that whole working place. It was really a freeing experience working side to side with those type of people, who clearly would have even insulted the emperor in his face even at the cost of their own lives. There was just something in being so unpreoccupied with possible consequences that deeply attracted him. Perhaps it was just a mirror longing of his spirit; or maybe it was a deeply repressed longing to set out in the vast galaxy to carve his destiny with his own hands. He didn't know. But he still felt it nonetheless.
"Moving on, as I'm sure you've noticed, the whole cladding and armor has been completely removed."
"Yeah. Bit difficult to ignore that."
"How much of it all do you think we were able to salvage?"
"I don't know. And honestly, at this point, I don't even know if want to know."
"Well, if that is how you're feeling, you might find solace in knowing we managed to restore the inner shell without any problem. Unfortunely, the armor had to be replaced. It was just too badly designed."
"…Honestly, that's not too bad."
"Right? But that's not all."
Vindril inhaled a long breath to get ready to face the harsh reality. Here it went…
"As I've shortly told you before, there's good news and bad news."
"I know."
"Which one do you want to hear first."
"The good news." he said without a second thought. "Definitely the good news."
Yurian touched his ring projector and a list appeared right in front of his eyes. By the series of numbers and letters that was on it, it must have been a list of some sorts. "If you move your gaze to the back of the vessel, you'll see how both engines have been removed. Fortunately, and I really mean it, cause it would have been a catastrophe to find a replacement for them, both engines have been deemed good enough to resume working. As a personal scruple, I asked that they be disassembled and improved in every lacking aspect they have. Soon you'll have one the fastest vessels in the galaxy. Also, thanks to no small amount to Warbren and his skills, we've managed to improve various aspect of the structure. I hate to admit it, but colour me impressed. By the way, where have you found him?"
"He's a mechanic at the Academy." said Vindril. "We sort of had a past dealing, and one thing led to another. You know how those things turn out."
"I see…"
Vindril looked away. He knew he couldn't fool Yurian even if he simply omitted something. That man could have spotted a lie even in his deathbed.
"Anyway, let's talk about bad news."
"Must we?"
"What? Are you afraid? My dear friend Vindril, who has fought against the tide all his life, is now scared of some news? The shame…"
"Ah. Ah. Very funny. Very fucking funny."
Yurian smirked, clearly entertained by such a reaction. Vindril was half tempted to leave him there without hearing what he still had to say, but the he had always been good to him and he didn't want to lash out at him just for something so minor.
"It's ok. I know it is. But, let's go back on track, shall we?"
Vindril simply nodded.
"Alright." he said, flicking the projection in front of him by touching his ring. "Unfortunately, the interiors were too much damaged to try a restorative operation on them. And even if we did, the fabric was going to be torn at the very first mistreatment, and the metal structure would fold. Truly, they were just too far gone."
"That's hardly surprising. Haven't we already deducted that was the case?"
"Yes. However, I had hoped to recycle the inner structure of those interiors. Sadly, that wasn't possible."
"Huh."
"Hey, look at the bright side. You'll have new and custom interiors that are far going to outlive you, and your descendants. Not a bad investment, if you ask me."
"Speaking of which, how much is it going to cost me?"
"Well, if I have to be honest…"
"Yes. I would much appreciate that."
"Then a bit more than originally planned."
Shit. That wasn't good. Not good at all.
"Oh." said Yurian, as he saw Vindril's expression going dark. "But it's nothing outrageous. That will come later on."
Vindril's heart almost skipped a beat as he slowly realized what had just come out of the businessman's mouth. "…W-What?"
"Ah! Got you! You should have seen your face."
Vindril closed his eyes and tightened his right hand into a fist. He could feel his blood pumping in his temple by how much he wanted to hit him in the face. What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he joke around like that when he clearly knew how on edge he was?
He inhaled slowly. Then, with the same motion, he slowly exhaled. Deep breaths. Deep…Breaths…
After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly reopened his eyes. "I swear, you're making me hate you right now."
"Oh, don't be such a downer. I'm just joking with you. After all the help I'm giving you, I think that is the very least you can endure."
"Ehi, I'm paying you for all the work that is being done."
"…Truly, if I ask you to pay me the correct sum that should be required to own such a vessel, you'll have to find a way to give me much more credits."
He mumbled a curse. He hated to admit it, but he was right. Even if that vessel was a flying death trap, at least to what the stories told about it, it was a very rare and sought out vessel by the madmen who wanted to own one. To pay that little for a perfectly flyable, not to mention upgraded version of the Silver Death? It was a steal. A steal that was only possible thanks to Yurian's kind offer to begin with.
"Listen, I'm sorry alright? But what did you expect? That I wouldn't say anything after joking about that? You know how much shit I've endured to afford a ship of my own."
"Ahhh! Fine! I won't joke about it. Happy? Jeez. You're such a spoilsport."
A smile appeared on Vindril's face. No matter how much he tried to appear distant and uncaring, he just knew he had a soft spot for him. He just had to make sure to always be respectful towards him and his family.
"Going back to the subject, all the armaments, and I mean ALL of them, have been replaced. Nothing has been left to chance. Even the central cannon has been sold and replaced with a HH magnetic cannon. That will provide you with enough firepower to handle even a couple of superior classes of vessels. On the downside, it's pretty costly, and its magnetic power is generated by a couple of engines we mounted right behind it. It has added some weight, but with all the power those engine will produce I bet you won't feel a thing. The rest of the armament has remained pretty much the same. Two short range thermal cannons, four midrange ones, a couple of turrets and a couple of missile compartments. Bottom of the line, you're armed to go."
"That's good to know."
"Yeah. I'm sure all that firepower will come in handy if you're ever forced to fight. Of course, that has upped the cost a little more than expected, but we're pretty much in that range."
"I guess now comes the real problem." Vindril said, looking around as if he feared being over heard. "The A.I."
Yurian fell silent. His eyes began looking left and right, as if the sole mention of it could have caused catastrophic levels of troubles. Then, without looking at him, he turned around, signalling Vindril to follow him. What was going on?