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KERA VERR JOLTED AWAKE from her belligerent slumber, the sounds of a persistent alarm echoing within her ears. Standing, Kera could see that K-3SO was powered down, slumped against the wall by her chair. The droids optics flared a blistering white, alert and attentive, brought back to an active state by Kera's movements. The Frog Lady remained to snore in her sleep and Kera hoped that her sleep was pleasant and restful.
Noting that she would have no choice, Kera urgently collapsed into the pilot's chair, her gaze skimming over the controls and switches. As she tampered with the controls, a masculine voice echoed throughout the cockpit, "Razor Crest, M-One-Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest. Do you copy?"
She could feel those white optics of K-3SO on the back on her chair, that droid of hers probably had so much to say yet undoubtedly knew that Kera could willingly handle it at ease.
Kera's voice was clear and even as she kicked up her feet to rest on the controls. "M-One-Eleven. This is Razor Crest. I am inquired to ask if there is an issue? Over and out."
"We noticed your transponder is not emitting."
Kera couldn't feign the panic that coursed through her veins but she had done her best to ensure her voice was even, enthusiastic and warm in her answer. Yet, all she could think of where was the Mandalorian? The Razor Crest was his ship and his responsibility.
"Oh. Well, that's too bad. I believe that this ship is fairly old, perhaps pre-Empire surplus which means it is not required to run a beacon. . . right? Nevertheless, how was your day?"
"That was before. This section is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon. My day, well, Wolf and I, are out on patrol."
"Uh, that's right. . . Wait a moment please. I'll get it working," Kera drawled slowly, flicking off the comms unit once the New Republic pilot confirmed that it wasn't a problem. The doors to the cockpit flew open, Kera lowered her feet from the dash a little sheepishly and swerved in her seat to face the Mandalorian ── and K-3SO who surveys and calculates her every movement, undoubtedly following sole his programming.
"New Republic pilots on Patrol. They want you to run a beacon, it's a new requirement for all crafts since the dawn of the New Republic. Apparently, it doesn't matter that the Razor Crest is pre-Empire surplus."
The Mandalorian gave a sharp nod brushing past Kera and settling in the Pilot's seat. Kera had been expecting a much more displeased reaction. She was honestly very surprised.
