Warmest, if belated, lifeday wishes to my wonderful beta, impoeia. This one's for you. :)

3.

Traxis wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the piles of junk that loomed on all sides. The kriffing air stank of old fuel and engine oil, and he regretted leaving his kit back on the Stark Raven. "What are you looking for, again?"

Something clattered to his right as Ares untangled a length of durasteel cable from one of the many mountains of garbage. "Alluvial dampers," the Twi'lek said as he wrapped the cable vertically around his forearm. "I've been needing to replace the Raven's for some time."

"Can't you buy those?"

Cable secure, Ares placed it in the anti-grav sled they'd rented from the salvage yard. "You can buy anything, provided you have the creds. Which, sadly, I do not."

Traxis peered into the sled. Ares had already amassed quite a collection of...stuff, most of which he couldn't make head or shebs of. "But you had to pay a fee to come dig around through this fekking place."

"A small fee, considering the money to be saved. I intend to get my creds' worth and fill this sled to the brim." Ares swiped his jacket sleeve over his damp forehead and cast Trax an apologetic smile. "Ah, but I know this wasn't how you hoped the evening would go. I promise to be finished soon, and then we can get dinner. But invitations to Kuat Salvage Yards are few and far between, and I'd rather not miss this chance."

"Plus you need those...allowable damp-things."

Ares chuckled. "Only if I want to keep flying."

Nodding, Traxis looked around again. Kriffing hell, this place was a mess. Crest would be right at home. "What do the damper-things look like? Maybe if we split up, we'll have a better shot at finding them." And at getting out of this effing junkyard sooner.

The only reply was a swift curse in Huttese, followed by a horrific screech of metal on metal. Always expecting an ambush, Trax whirled, reaching for the blaster at his hip, but it was only Ares, balanced on two wobbling, massive hunks of ship in an effort to pull some other effing hunk of ship free from the pile of osik. The di'kut was going to break his fardling neck pulling stunts like that, all to save a few creds. Trax sighed and went to help.

Except he didn't count on the whatever-it-was being effing covered in sticky, black fluid that stank of plasma. Gritting his teeth, Trax yanked with all he was worth in an effort to free the hunk of garbage. After a few moments it slipped loose, causing him and Ares to stumble back into the dust.

Fek, his hands were covered in this osik, and Trax scowled as he wiped them on his fatigues. Meanwhile, Ares held a knot of tangled wires and sensor nodes as if it were a trophy.

At Traxis' dark look, he held up the mess and grinned. "Can you believe it?"

"What the frag is that thing?"

"A treson cluster." Ares examined the wires' ends lovingly before placing the mess into the sled. "Very rare. Very valuable." He turned his smile onto Traxis. "I've never found anything like that on my own. I should bring you on all my salvage trips."

No fekking way.

Even so, it was kind of impossible to be annoyed when Ares looked at him like that, so Traxis tried to sound nonchalant, despite his own stupid, shabla grin. "As long as I can get you naked, after. Now, what do those damper-things look like, again?"

A few minutes later, Traxis wandered alone through stacks of old starship parts. Some were no taller than himself, composed of hundreds – thousands? – of bits and pieces; others were massive hunks of hulls and bulkheads that reached into the domed atmosphere of the floating salvage yard. He stopped before a promising pile of cylinders – Ares had shown him pics of what they were searching for – and knelt to get a better look at the ones on the outer edges. Garbage, all of it, at least in his eyes. If he'd come across any of it on his own, he'd have tossed it into the nearest incinerator.

But Ares loved this osik for some reason, so Traxis resolved to find the alluvial damp-things if it took him all kriffing day. Traxis' hands were already coated in grime; a little more wouldn't hurt. He began to root through the pile, mentally checking each object against the image in his brain.

Too small. Too round. Too pointy. Too...sparkly? Something gleamed in the corner of his eye. Beneath a few layers of metallic plates was some kind of pale blue crystal, mounted into a carbon casing. Of course, this thing was filthy as well, but it looked intriguing and wasn't too large, so Trax shoved it in his pocket and continued his search.

For hours. Well, it fekking felt like hours, though his chrono told him it was more like one hour; the yard would be closing soon. He was covered in grime and grease, and every breath was filled with the stink of this shabla place, such that Traxis figured he'd be smelling fuel and oil for kriffing days.

And it was all for nothing. Trax had failed in his task; not one kriffing damper could be found in this karking place. With a heavy heart, he made his way back to where he and Ares had agreed to meet. At first glance, his Twi'lek companion had fared no better. Worse, actually, given that every piece of normally coral-colored skin was mottled with something black and sticky, and he smelled like the wrong end of a ronto.

"What'd the fek did you get into?" Traxis covered his mouth and nose as he approached Ares, who stood beside a now-full grav sled, examining his findings. Shab. His hand stank too, but at this point it was the lesser of two evils.

Ares' brow furrowed as he studied what looked like a power-pack. "One of the fuel cylinders I found was home to a family of skrats. They reacted rather, ah, severely to my intrusion."

Luckily, Trax was excellent at suppressing his gag-reflex. "Do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself until you've showered, okay?"

Nodding, Ares looked at Traxis' empty hands and his lekku seemed to droop. "I take it you did not find any dampers?"

"I'm sorry," Traxis said, and meant it. "You didn't, either?"

"Our luck ran out early, I suppose." Ares sighed and set the salvaged power-pack into the cart. "Ah, well. That treson cluster will fetch a nice price once it's cleaned up. I can put the money toward some used alluvial dampers." He gave Traxis an amused look. "You are ready to leave, yes?"

"Ready, and then some." Traxis tried to keep his voice light, but didn't do such a great job.

But Ares, in his way, took it all in stride and activated the sled, now weighed down with their findings. It took both of them to maneuver the sled through the mountains of junk, and it was not until they'd nearly reached the entrance to the yard that Traxis remembered the weird crystal-thing.

Keeping one hand on the sled's handle, he dug the other in his pocket. "I found this; is it anything you can use?"

The sled halted as Ares faced him, brown eyes flickering between the crystal-thing and Trax's face as his mouth hung open and his lekku twitched as they did when he got really excited. He was silent for a second, then, to Trax's surprise, let loose a short, delighted burst of laughter and made to embrace Traxis, though he held himself in check.

"So...you know what the kriff it is?" Traxis asked. "I just thought it looked interesting."

"Interesting, indeed." Ares grinned, white teeth flashing amid whatever unpleasantness the skrats had sprayed all over his face. "Interesting to the tune of a few thousand creds."

"A few thousand..." Traxis turned the crystal so it winked in the artificial lights, set high above their heads. "What the shab is this fekking thing?"

"A vannan crystal," Ares said as Trax handed it over for him to examine. He pulled back his coat to rub the worst of the dirt off and onto his relatively clean shirt. "I've never seen one outside of a few, specialized dealers in, ah, less-than-legal auctions. A single one went for four thousand, and it was quite a bidding war. "

Traxis leaned against the grav sled's handle. "What can it do on your ship?"

"Nothing." Ares shot him a wry look as he handed the crystal back. "The Raven's sensors aren't compatible with most crystalline tech. It's the sort of thing you'd find on a yacht or a pleasure-barge."

He made to push the sled again, but Trax remained where he stood, frowning at the crystal.

"Traxis?"

"Why'd you give it back to me?"

Ares tilted his head in confusion. "It belongs to you, Trax." His lips quirked into his crooked smile. "Have you never heard of 'finders, keepers?'"

"What the fek am I going to do with this hunk of junk? Here." He shoved the crystal back in Ares' grime-coated hands.

"Are you quite certain?"

"Yes, I'm kriffing certain." Trax rolled his eyes. "Sell it and buy the Raven some fancy new allowable damp-things."

Ares glanced at the crystal, but his gaze was drawn back to Traxis. "I hardly know what to say."

It was Trax's turn to grin. "Maybe you can thank me good and hard when we get cleaned up."

"There will be no 'maybe' about it, Traxis."

Kriff, Ares' lilting accent had deepened, the edges of it rough with desire even as his eyes were wide and his smile was filled with promise. Traxis turned for the sled again, more eager than ever to get back to the ship.

Only to be jolted by a resounding smack that left a blackish-brown handprint across his ass. Had anyone else done so, Trax would have erupted into a rage. But he only chuckled and cast a look back at his Twi'lek companion, who still grinned like the damn, gorgeous di'kut he was.

"That a preview?" Trax asked. Fek, he loved it when Ares got rough.

Ares laughed and came beside him, tucking the crystal in his jacket-pocket. "Just so. I could not help myself."

Traxis smiled as they began to push the sled. "Lucky for me."

"No, my friend," Ares said, quietly. "I'm the lucky one."