SUMMARY

Vion Lankarna was always trouble. If a normal Mon Calamari child sought to understand something through study, analysis and research, he would instead skip all of that in favour of taking the thing apart to see how it worked. What seemed a source of childish amusement in his youth soon developed into an annoyance however: his parents coming home to discover the data terminal in pieces, or the cooker disassembled so its heating element could power some project, was not what they wanted in a son. The long polar winters of Mon Cala were no place for the sort of foolish misbehaviour he engendered, and his parents sought to moderate it and ensure his good behaviour. So too did teachers, friends, and even the authorities on more than one occasion, but it was to no avail. Lankarna wanted to learn how things worked, and if others felt put out by his disassembling them, then that was their own outlook.

As the galaxy began to darken, however, a new influence took hold on the young Mon Cala. Despite his reckless behaviour and idle insistence on disassembling anything not nailed down for 'optimisation', he had secured a place to study Spatial Engineering at the University of Nystullum. There, the city's Mayor Raddus had caught word of the precocious youth, and put him to work in the city towers, modifying and optimising a new power system. It was only when Imperial ships darkened the skies over Mon Cala and he had been called to the main government building that he realised the truth - he had unwittingly signed on with the Mon Calamari Migrant Fleet, cohorts of the Rebel Alliance. He was present for the fleet's escape, frantically seeking to squeeze every ounce of power out of the Profundity's engines as it ran the Imperial blockade and escaped for open space.

The fleet regrouped, stock was taken, and in more than a few cases crew were moved around. But Lankarna was retained, his skills valued and his position in engineering important. He was no leader, this much was obvious - he could be abrasive one moment and flighty the next, and he cared far more for machines than organics. He showed little interest in anyone who wasn't passing him tools, directing him to a problem or showering him with praise, and in turn others found his behaviour anything from odd to alarming. One too many incidents of jimmied locks and missing equipment - reappearing the next day missing many parts and working far better nonetheless - led to him being dragged before the Admiral.

At that point, judgement was swift. The Rebellion was gearing up, operations were afoot, rumours of trouble spreading in the Rim, and there was no place for a chaos-spreading mechanic. Lankarna was quietly shifted to a patrol craft operating on the edge of the galaxy, a place where he could work his mischief in peace, and nobody thought any more of him.

Now Raddus is dead. The Profundity was destroyed over Scarif. The Mon Calamari Migrant Fleet has scattered. And the Rebellion seems at an end. So at least there's nobody to stop him modifying now.

Optimisation - Lankarna wants everything around him to be the best: his ship, its crew, his equipment, etc. He will do anything to attain this end, whether he is permitted to or not.

Shipping X - Lankarna's first focus is on the ships of the Alliance, however few they may be. He doesn't know if the war will be won in space, but he does know that this is his best way to contribute to the cause. And if nothing else, it lets him play around with the ship's systems a little more.

Obsession (Obligation) 10 - Lankarna's obession with modifying technology, with or (usually) without permission, has got him into trouble on more than a few occasions. It has seen him castigated at him, exiled in the Alliance, and while he should hope it doesn't get him into any more trouble it is doubtful he even notices.

Lankarna hails from Mon Calamari's polar regions, as indicated by his pale pigmentation, broken up by mottled blue patches, natural camouflage beneath the icy polar caps of the world's south pole. He is tall and almost unnervingly thin for a Mon Calamari, a gangly youth with big eyes who usually sports an inane grin. This grin speaks of his personality - though not malicious, he is excitable and usually quite poor at picking up on social cues. He will happily take anything not nailed down and have a go at modifying it, mostly to a positive end but rarely to one that pleases the unknowing recipient when they find it. Though this is not a lesson he ever learns, he never means anything outwardly harmful by it.