Pursue the Past: Samair in Argos: Book 1 by Michael Kotcher Page B

any of that.”
                  His antennae rose and then fell.  “I know you didn’t.  I checked over the pod while you were with the captain.  It confirms your story of being asleep for so long.  And,” he went on, his mouthparts clacking in what sounded like what could be a glimmer of warmth, “if your magic touch with the replicators can fix that fighter and the Grania Estelle , then I think that you and I could work well together.”
                  “I’d like that,” she said, smiling slightly.  The replicator chose that moment to beep, indicating that the job was done.  Stepping over, she opened the door, and pulled out a tray of tools, of two identical sets.  She handed him the tray.  “Do you have a toolbelt I could borrow?”
                  He took it, his antennae flaring in surprise.  “This is a comprehensive set!” he marveled.  “I’m impressed.  I don’t have half of these things.”  He looked up at her.  “I think I can find you something to use.  We should get to work.”
                  Tamara nodded, following him out of the room, heading back to the cargo bay.

Chapter 2
                 
                  Returning to the cargo bay, Tamara began a serious scan of the fighter.  “Such a beautiful baby,” she cooed.  “I only ever flew a Perdition once.  It was one of the greatest experiences in my life.”             
                  Ka’Xarian turned to her, though that was really unnecessary because he could see perfectly well to the side due to his compound eyes.  “I’m confused.  I thought you were an engineer.  An officer.”
                  “I am.  Or well, was.  But I flew with the starfighter corps for seven years before I got out.  I was always good at fixing and building things, even as a kid.  I always helped the maintenance crews who worked on our fighters.  After I got out of the starfighter corps, I switched to the engineering track.  Never looked back.”  She smiled, running one hand down the length of the fighter’s fuselage.  “But I never gave up my love for this fine beauty.  He can take me to dance anytime.”
                  The Perdition class starfighter was a marvel of Republic engineering.  It was an aerospace fighter, capable of maneuvering in atmosphere as well as in space.  It was designed for aerospace superiority, meaning it was meant to take on other starfighters.  The ship was designed like an airplane, with a long fuselage and a pair of forward-swept, slightly downward canted wings.  It boasted a pair of high powered engines, a pair of heavy particle cannons on the ends of the wings and a cockpit for a single pilot.  “This beauty has amazing handling.  I cannot wait to get it all fixed up.”  She crawled onto the fuselage and popped the canopy. 
                  It slid upward and she climbed into the cockpit.  Plugging her datapad into the jack, she began running diagnostics.  Antivirus programs went to work, cleansing the systems, meanwhile she began taking a look at everything in the cockpit that on a first glance needed either fixing or outright replacement.  A very long list was starting to grow.  The exterior hull was battered.  Apparently at some point, the fighter must have flown through the upper atmosphere of a gas giant because most of the paint had ablated off.  The underside of the hull was banged up, it looked as though the fighter had come in for a very hard landing at some point.  The cylindrical fuel tanks, which were under the rather thin hull armor were both breached, probably due to the hard landing. 
                  “Oh, no, the power couplers are fried.  Whoever flew this poor baby jammed the feeds open all the way, ran the afterburners on full tilt the whole way in.  Probably the one who crashed it.”  She sighed.  Then she