SHOWER REPAIR
It took every ounce of Stela’s self-control not to hurl the wrench across the room. Three weeks. The showers had been broken for three kriffing weeks, and she was starting to lose it. Contrary to what her son seemed to think, jumping into a creek wasn’t the same as actually bathing, and Stela was reaching the point where she needed the simple pleasure a hot shower could offer her.
Okay, to be fair the showers themselves were not broken, they would still vomit water out onto anyone who turned the handle, but the water heater was shot, and if Stela wanted to be drowned in cold water she’d just go stand out in the rain.
Tossing the wrench back into the tool box Stela clapped some of the dirt and grime from her hands before heading for the Galaxy’s most frustrating prisoner.
——-
“Let me guess,” Stela said, crossing her arms and leaning against the door, looking down at Ren. “You have no intention of talking, so torturing you would just be a waste of both our times.” Ren’s lip twitched into a smirk at that.
“You’re learning,” he said, shifting against his bonds. “So now what, Commander? You kill me?”
Stela wanted to hit him, because she wasn’t giving up that easily. Not yet at least. But she also didn’t have the energy to deal with his particular brand of bullshit, either.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Think I’m going to go try and fix the showers instead. At this rate I should have the hot water running by the time the war is over.”
He seemed to perk up a bit at the mention of a shower, and it occurred to Stela that he probably hadn’t properly bathed in who knows when. Certainly not since they had taken him prisoner. She doubted he counted the few times she had dumped a bucket of soapy water onto him.
“I could help you,” he said. “I’m good at fixing things.” Stela raised an eyebrow, pushing off of the door and walking over to him.
“Yeah? And what would be in it for you?” She asked.
“A shower.” So her suspicions were right. She thought it over for a moment, weighing the risks. Letting him loose could mean the death of everyone, unless she had some way of keeping him under control.
Which, she realized, she did.
“Alright,” she said. “You can try. But I’m going to need some reinforcements first. I’m not dumb enough to let you walk around without some back up.”
——–
When Stela said she was going to fetch reinforcement, Ren was expecting her to return with some of her men, maybe even a small army. Instead what she returned with was far more surprising, and more than a little unnerving.
The largest Vornskr Ren had ever seen padded into the room behind Stela, its black fur bristling and its eyes never once leaving him. It growled low in its throat, bared its teeth, but despite what he would have expected it didn’t make a move for him, nor did it try to attack Stela.
“This is Victory,” Stela said, smirking at his obvious dread. “Try anything and you’ll be her dinner.”
The vornskr leaned her weight ever so slightly against Stela—a show of affection and solidarity—as she let her jaw hang open. Strands of saliva clung to her teeth like sugar floss, thin and dripping, in what could only be described as an expression of sinister delight.
Victory was a smart animal; Stela suspected the vorsnkr was smarter than her wild kin, and there was no doubt that she knew exactly the effect she had on Ren.
Good.
“Well, let’s get to it then, shall we?” The clap cut through the tense silence with a fake brightness, the forced cheer jarring in the current atmosphere.
Stela saw Ren flinch at the noise slightly, his movement mirrored in turn by Victory’s suddenly wary tension. She didn’t exactly feel great about letting her prisoner out of his cell seeing as there was still so much that could go wrong. It was a risky move, and if Ren somehow got the slip on them it could be disastrous not only for her but for the whole militia.
But he was on enough suppressants to knock out a bantha—assuming someone felt the need to give a bantha force suppressants—and due to their periodic starvation, his energy had to be low. With Victory there, and with the other incentive for him to cooperate, it wasn’t the… stupidest thing she’d ever done.
Not that it would be much comfort, in the worst case.
“Keep an eye on him.” She murmured to the vornskr, giving her side a few firm thumps as she led the way to the water tanks.
They had received more than a few looks by the time they’d finally arrived; seeing their most high profiled prisoner being escorted out of his cell was something to behold after all. The man was met with all sorts of sneers and spitting, but beyond a quick show of his teeth paid them no mind. Stela didn’t have that option, keeping a critical eye on the members of the Militia they passed. She had to make sure that nobody tried anything, not that she could necessarily blame them if they did.
Still though, they needed Ren for information, information that they would never receive if he was gunned down now.
But they made it to the water heaters without incident, and almost immediately the man set himself to work. No doubt the promise of a shower was more than enough incentive for him. Stela briefly considered going back on her word—letting him fix the showers and then sending him straight back to his cell. It wasn’t like she really owed him anything anyways; he’d caused more than enough grief and heartache in the galaxy.
But the thought didn’t sit easy with her, it seemed unnecessarily cruel. A curse of her too soft heart, perhaps, but the Commander could at least rationalize it with the fact that Ren stank to the high heavens. Allowing him some modicum of hygiene would at the very least make it slightly more bearable to be in the same room as him. And who knew, maybe it might also make him more cooperative as well?
She watched what Ren was doing, not only on alert for any sort of tricks—though, with Victory at her side she wasn’t too concerned about that—but also to learn what he was doing. No doubt they’d continue to have these problems in the future seeing as the heaters were old and they didn’t have any easy replacements.
It looked like Ren had gone straight to the electrical conduits, swapping out the wrench for a much finer set of soldering tools. Stela was curious, and slightly impressed with the assured way he went about rewiring connections.
“When, uh, when the problem is no hot water, it’s usually a matter of the energy source not heating properly.” He offered absently. “Some of the wire connections went bad.”
“Uh huh.” She watched as the man reassembled the heater, running a few diagnostics on it before moving on to check the others.
“Give it a few hours, and you should have hot water.” Ren shrugged once he was finished, standing back up. “It’ll take some time for them to all kick in properly, given the size of the base.”
Which was understandable. Stela was a little put out, really, she’d hoped for a more immediate result, but she couldn’t say she was dissatisfied. The hot water heaters were working, and that was a relief. It was an unusual luxury on a military base, especially a slapstick one like the militia ran; water was a precious resource which was why most relied more on sonic showers.
Luckily for them, though, Depredador had more than enough water to spare, allowing them this for which she was eternally grateful. Nothing against the sonic showers to be sure, they were incredibly practical, but nothing could beat a good old fashioned hot shower.
“Alright then.” Victory climbed back to her feet at Stela’s brisk tone, resuming her position near Ren. “We’ll take you back to your cell, and then you’ll get your shower tonight.”
After the rest of the militia had gone to bed, or gone on guard rotation. It would be safer for them then, and less crowded.
Ren didn’t resist as he was led back, though he did have a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’m surprised you’re carrying through with that. It’s not exactly like I’m in a position to hold you to your word.”
His statement hit close to Stela’s earlier thoughts, and she shrugged. “I stand by my word, unlike some people.”
Ren didn’t answer, and when she had him properly restrained, he still had that same contemplative look.
