"Oh, definitely." There's shouts from mechanics all around them: requests for tools, to watch out for lifts, sparks, other workers, jokes and complains and even singing from two hovercrafts down. It stinks of burnt cable and fried electronics and engine oil and sweat and there's not a single place in Zion Wedge feels more at home than this grease pit. "You could easily become a mechanic. These ships are, in comparison to what we repaired on a daily basis, rather primitive. No hyperdrives, no astromech ports. Just your standard wiring and swapping and repairing parts."

"I could sign you up right now, and you'd be working by tomorrow. We lost four ships not that long ago. So we're on a tight schedule." Wedge exhales, then throws a spanner to a mechanic who requested it below them. "I signed up to be a captain. To be honest, I'm not sure that was such a great decision..."

"Well, too late now," he says. "Listen, I'm off duty and I was going to go back to my place and work some more on those schematics. I don't know where you're staying, but I have space. And, unlike the Council, I doubt you'll be concerned about the sort of stuff I've been drafting in my spare time."