Causally humming to herself, a slight female figure walked along the paved street, despite her hardly noticeable build and stature her hair was more than enough to catch the attention of who ever happened to be looking in her general direction, the various rippling strands of yellow and orange hues casting an illusion like effect as if the figure’s hair was set alight. As the fiery haired female continued down the street her gaze darted from one side of the street to the other, taking every visual sight that the street had to offer. Still she continued along the street not caring for the fact that whomever she had walked past cast her a curious and occasionally disapproving glance as she walked by, perhaps not because of her fire hued hair but probably more weighted to the overall dirty appearance of the figure, who was still dressed in her overalls, albeit the upper half was tied around her waist , leaving just a simple black vest top to be seen, in addition to the countless marks of grease and engine oil that adorned her visible skin all the way, from her face down to the very tips of her fingers in numerous patches and marks, not that the figure really cared as to how the locals saw her, after all she had more or less just recently stepped off of a freighter that had recently docked. Docking being the lighter means of classifying the freighters recent arrival onto this planet, setting down within the aptly named refugee’s gateway platform located perhaps no further than the slums were, hidden among a worn down industrial complex that had seen better days, the platform acted as nothing more than a low key docking area, where little Imperial care was paid to the ships that came and went from the platform, not because of the lack of security or negligence on the Imperial’s parts, but because the area was too high in volume to effectively police, large bulk freighters were the core of the daily arrival’s depositing small mountains of cargo containers before consuming another sizable quantity of containers before leaving. It was just the shear volume of the trade passed through that it would be impossible to effectively police all the content that passed through the complex. It was through this hole in the Security that she were able to slip through the immigration barriers, effectively jumping ship, not that she hadn’t done it before, for the past month she had worked from one freighter to the other, swiftly travelling the length of the universe, in order to keep just one step ahead of the Imperial port authorities based on Roonadan, that is if they were even actively seeking her out. Regardless if she were being pursued or not, she was following her dad’s request, for her to keep moving until she could find something that she could settle down within and make a life out of, as of yet she was still to find that something that she would want to actively become a part of, so for now she has simply gone from ship to ship earning her passage by performing routine maintenance aboard the freighters as they carried both her and the cargo between worlds. Stopping dead in her tracks, her head turning round to double check what she had believed to see through the pane of glass, an audibly excited “ooooooh” sound escaping the young figure’s lips as she pressed herself against the glass pane, her eyes focusing squarely on the long cylindrical object sat at the forefront of the shop display. “The FastTurn-3 mk2” The figure commented to herself, as she regarded the tool that was held on display. “Could do with a new hydro spanner, my FastTurn-2 is a bit battered” She continued, talking to no one in particular other than perhaps herself. With a dull thud, the figure’s duffle bag slid from her shoulder before falling onto the pavement below, swiftly followed by the figure as she knelt down onto the floor beside her bag. Rummaging through the bulk that made up the contents of her bag, her hands easing apart the various articles of clothing that had hastily been stuffed into the bag along side various tools, components and grease stained hand towels, until her fingers touched upon the canvas wrapping of her credits purse, situated at the very bottom of her bag. Drawing the small purse outwards, the figure unzipped the small canvas bag, before threading her fingers through the opening to riffle through the contents, the figure quickly counting the cumulative numerical value of the contents before looking towards the price tag that was sat upon the tool that had caught her attention. Keeping the credit purse in one hand, the other took hold of the duffel bag as the figure disappeared into the shop. Emerging several minutes later, the duffel bag now once again resting upon the figure’s shoulders the sole addition to the figure having entered the store was the branded bag that was clutched tightly within the figure’s left hand, clearly indicating that she had just purchased the tool on her moment of awe inspired impulse buying, something that would more or less be understandable for someone of mid teen age, of which the figure would fall under if one were to try to gauge her age by her appearance. Continuing back along the path she followed, her gaze darting from one side of the street to the other as the casual humming reverberated from her lips, her gaze raising as she regarded the gradual change in the type of business operations that were in place, gone were the simple goods stores, now replaced with various bars and inns and the occasional eatery.