SithLore

Blink and you'll miss it; That moment an opportunity reveals itself there is no time for hesitation. When all your chips are on the table and the pot is loaded will you push it "all in?" -or choke and live life safely?

Nothing leading up to this point was from taking the safe bet. Makarov stood in awe as his eyes shifted from Bow to Stern of the freighter. It wasn't the ship that amazed him... -ok, maybe it was the ship. Bigger than even that was that he stood as a Captain of his own. Sure there were bruises on this old bird but Makarov knew she was void worthy and would sore once again. If, of course, he "greased her wings" a bit.

He had previously been under the direct supervision of a BSP liaison. A Babysitter of sort that could "assess" Makarov's commitment to the new "family." ...Blue Star Pirates. Understandable if you counted Makarov's ties to the Crimson Dawn. But what was not understandable was that it all just faded away. One day the Babysitting stopped, they gave him a bank account, and then some "benefactor" dropped a message in his lap... -or coordinates, rather. Some nowhere mining rig dropped off on the edge of the mid-rim just off the Perlemian Trade Route. A mining Rig with the lights off and the O-Two soured.

If they collected ore then those days were done and gone. What he found was a warehouse of relics and castaways until now. In a deeper part of the facility Makarov toggled a set of double doors and opened a new chapter in his life.

A YT-1300 parked with his name, literally, coded to open her up. It took a while to sink in. For an whole hour he walked her from port to starboard and again. Touching her innards and looking past her aged look as to what "could" be. All before he spun up the older back up generators and got the warehouse some decent heating.

Lights shinned on her and Makarov thought, "Capt'n Yaro." It had a nice ring to it.

After the awestruck Pirate found his wits he removed his leather duster and clapped his hands together. "Let's make you pretty again."

This had been the wealthiest Makarov had ever been and now it was put to the wind in the blink of an eye. Eyeing the Dataslate with soft sigh he joked to himself audibly, "A Pirate's life for me..."

A few days had passed since the scoundrel had arrived at this so called mining rig and the resources, limited as they were, aboard we all but spent. Scavenging from a few strung out power relay points he was able to transplant a few components into the YT-1300 and get the thing some basic life support. The Hyperdrive was still down and required a full overhaul.

Something he couldn't just ramshackle together with a welding torch.
That's why he laughed at himself when the price-tag all but drained what the "Benefactor" had given him. "Anyone might have retired on that small pile." He thought. Obviously there was more in the shipment from food stuffs, basic supplies, equipment, and weapons for the storage lockers. However almost everything was invested into this. To include three new droid units: an R2 Astromech, an RX-Pilot Droid, and a KX series security droid.

He had only just finished anchoring the RX into the copilot position as a permanent installation before the next shipment holding the other two droids arrived. Now he waved the dataslate away, tossing it beside a horde of liquor bottles, and rubbed at his brow. "Discount KS." he muttered while standing and approaching the idling droids. "R2, your designation is now FR-12, confirm and head to the ship. I want you fixing those pesky software issues I cannot pin down." Makarov took out a cigar and lit it casually while giving instruction. Taking a deep inhale and letting the ripe toxins fill his lungs he released it all over the form of the KS droid and smile.

"Alright KS, they said you had a strange personality matrix they couldn't quite remove." A major reason the thing was bought at a generous rate from his retail contact. "Introduce yourself."

It's lifeless expression suddenly lifted with lit eyes of white neon and then tinted into red. "This one is known as K-YN0. Programmed for linguistics, diplomacy, manslaughter, and crochet." Makarov almost choked on the last part but found himself grinning from ear to ear instead. "Kay-No. I like it." A light interjection sprang from the Unit, "Your personal approval is noted though unneeded. I exist to serve, Human." That racial designation rose an eyebrow in Makarov. A "red-flag" as it were but he was assured the droid was loyal to a fault if not a bit of a delinquent in it's replies. "Well KayNo. Your existence is calling to you." Motioning to the equipment crates still strung about the warehouse. "Better get to policing all this into the YT's hold."

Makarov rested his free hand on a holstered Westar-34 and awaited the droid to heed it's new Master's command. A sigh of relief as KayNo turned to lift a crate only adding one line as it did so, "Oh yes Human. Wouldn't wish you to bother yourself in such trivial exercise."

The Blue Star Pirate smiled, ...everything was coming together. A ship, a crew, and some work.