The Bad Batch: Tech and Vel

5. Insight

Another mission, another risky departure. This time, the hyperdrive wasn't working, and as a last resort, Tech asked Vel for help. Once again, she came through, in another impossible situation. The team was amazed at her mechanical knowledge. As soon as they had a break between missions, though, they had their orders to drop her off.

But she had so much knowledge. All mechanical, delivered dryly and peppered with laments about her now-useless status to both the Bounty Hunter's Guild and the Jedi Order. After much deliberation, the team asked her to stay, as a ship mechanic, until she decided where she wanted to go.

At this point, it had been long enough that she agreed, having grown accustomed to the ship's little nuances and quirks. But it came with one stipulation: she wasn't to be a prisoner anymore. She had no reason to turn against them anymore, and she was grateful for their help, though still hopelessly jaded about her future and resentful about her past.

She was fashioned some makeshift quarters in the hold, still dark but better than bars and a stark cell. She had no personal items except a pouch with some credits, a basic medpack, and the multi-use weapon that Crosshair had relieved her of upon her capture, and that was not in her possession just yet.

The ship was under constant need of repair or maintenance, so she worked frequently alongside Tech primarily, as well as the others, depending on what was needed. She was quiet and efficient, grateful for the lack of conversation when she assisted Hunter or Crosshair and chagrined at the constant questions and thoughts that accompanied any project with Wrecker.

Tech, however, was hard to discern. He spoke factually, only when needed and immediately applicable. He did sometimes tend to explain a single topic in far too much detail, but she found it preferable to any questions or conversation directed at her, so didn't make any effort to stop it. She found her interests piqued at his different approaches to certain processes.

They spoke of past missions, of their childhoods and experiences. Vel divulged bits and pieces here and there, and Tech began constructing a mental map of her story. Born on a lush forest planet, she was taken to the Jedi temple as a youngling when her Force abilities had surfaced, but throughout the Padawan training, it became painfully apparent that she was insufficient.

"Diplomatically dismissed," Vel said, rolling her eyes and waving the spanner in front of her, "Although I'd just call it what it is -- I wasn't good enough."

Tech remained silent, considering the ramifications. He was laying flat underneath a control panel, welding some rough edges, while she rerouted the wires to avoid damaging them.

"So I went back to my dad, but he had moved to Corellia," she continued. "He tried to hide his disappointment but it was apparent. So he thought he could make me the best mechanic in the shipyard instead. He hired me out as an apprentice to every specialist he could find. I worked during the day and studied in the evenings."

"It sounds intensive," Tech responded, momentarily pausing from the flying sparks in front of him.

"He was trying to do whatever he could to make me useful," Vel answered, her voice tight to conceal the deep pain. Tech remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, partially due to the emotional precision required and partially due to the discomfort of the situation. He lifted the face shield to rest atop his head, patiently waiting for any further revelation.

"Anyway," Vel continued, clearing her throat and regaining an air of carelessness, "It was never enough. I made him so much money, got him known throughout the system for ship modifications, but I made one small mistake on a Techno Union transport, and he kicked me out."

She shared the story factually, as if it meant nothing to her, but the constriction in her throat was unmistakable. "His own daughter -- imagine that," she said, returning to her work with a clenched jaw. 

Tech felt deeply unsettled, not having much training on this sort of situation. He racked his brain, searching through the literature and studies, before settling on his best attempt at encouragement: "The hardcell-class interstellar transport was a notoriously unique model, especially since it did not use conventional repulsorlifts for flight but opted for--"

"--rocket propulsion for atmospheric and stellar travel," Vel interrupted, "I know... Now."

"Ah," was his only response. He regarded her for a moment, and considered returning to his welding, but felt a compulsion to try again. He considered what she had shared, noting her body language, and decided on a different approach. 

"I am sorry that your father failed to exhibit the loyalty one would traditionally expect from a birth parent," Tech said. "I would posit that it had more to do with his own ethical shortcomings than your perceived incompetence. If I had been born in the traditional human method, I would likely feel similarly disenfranchised by a lack of a secure attachment."

Vel didn't expect to laugh at this, but a chuckle burst out nonetheless. First of all, she never expected to be sharing her aches and pains with a random clone engineer, and second of all, she had never guessed she would be comforted by a factual analysis of her developmental psychology.

She looked at him, staring solemnly right back at her without a trace of sarcasm or judgment, and couldn't help but smile. "I don't even know what to say to that," she said.

"No response needed," Tech responded matter-of-factly, pulling his face shield back down and returning to his work. Sparks began to fly again, and not just in the literal way this time, yaknowwhaddimean? ;)