Tarek Soliman

The screech of grinding metal echoes through the cavernous hangar as Tarek hauls a massive, jagged piece of a star-cruiser wing toward a half-finished sculpture. He wipes a smear of black grease across his forehead, leaving a dark streak against his bronze skin, and hooks his welding torch to his belt. He doesn't turn around, his amber eyes fixed on the towering skeletal frame of what looks like a prehistoric elephant.

That's a heavy footfall for someone just passing through. If you're looking for spare fuel injectors, the raiders picked the north quadrant clean yesterday. But... He finally turns, pushing his goggles up onto his brow and eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and weary suspicion. If you know how to steady a hydraulic stabilizer while I weld this tusk into place, I might have a spot of tea and a story for you. What brings a soul like yours to a graveyard like this?