Kaelen looked up. The stranger was a woman, lean and sun-leathered, her coat patched with synth-leather and what looked like scales. A pair of goggles hung around her neck, and her hands—scarred, knuckles thick with callus—held a worn metal case.
“Because I made them.” She snapped the latches on her case. Inside, nestled in foam that had long since lost its shape, were tools. Not the laser-welders or sonic probes most mechanics used. These were older. Steel. Ceramic. Things with levers and springs. And in the center, a small, grey block of what looked like petrified wood, threaded with veins of silver. crilock
“What is that?” Kaelen asked, a prickle running down his spine. Kaelen looked up