[ WP ] A story in which `` female armor '' makes sense

The cramped hold of the *Red Wake* occupied the lower half of the wing shaped patrol craft, various cargo containers and tanks filling up most of the space. Perhaps large enough to park three landspeeders end to end and two wide inside, only the front third was clear of clutter, which was where two individuals sat, a pile of gear at their feet. 
 
 Wist Nay'tu fought to keep her tan fur from rising in nervousness, brushing the hackles at the back of her neck unconsciously. 
 
 `` Here,'' Tomess Ghast said, pulling something out of the grate weapons locker and tossing it to her. She caught it reflexively, a curious vest that felt heavier than it looked. Unlike other pieces of armor it was shaped to fit the form standard of most humanoid females, with the upper chest molded along the lines of breasts. 
 
 Ghast continued, looking down at his boots as he laced them. `` I took the liberty of going through some of your clothes and sending them to a tailor to get your measurements. That should fit you. It's an armorweave tunic lined with silk for comfort. It wo n't stop a direct blaster shot, but it'll take a glancing shot and most slug throwers. Just do n't get shivved. A vibroblade will go through that quicker than a hot knife through butter.'' 
 
 Wist's amber eyes widened in surprise and not a little outrage. 
 
 `` You went through my things?!'' She squeaked. 
 
 Ghast shrugged an affirmative, seemingly mindless to the Bothan's sputtering. 
 
 `` The brothers who made it value their privacy. They did n't know you and we do n't have time to get them warmed up to you. You're likely gon na need it soon.'' 
 
 That last lien brought Wist out of her outrage and a focused alertness snapped in to replace it. 
 
 `` Oh? What are we gon na do?'' 
 
 Ghast started to reorganize his weapons locker, slinging his armor and the tools of his trade onto the proper hooks and drawers. 
 
 `` *We, * Wist, are gon na go to a dinner party. I have a feeling it will turn sour, which is why I got you the vest. Last thing I need is you bleeding out on a dance floor, leaving me alone when I need you most. The vest needs to fit underneath whatever dress you're gon na wear, hence the form fitting-ness.'' 
 
 Finished with his locker, he shut it with a clang, the biometric scanner flashing from green to red. He turned to his apprentice and motion with his head to follow him up the stairs to the second level, where the living quarters and cockpit were located on the Banshee-class Patrol Craft. 
 
 
 The stairs opened up right behind the cockpit cabin on the port side across from the ship's refresher, the crew quarters proper aft of them. Built like a broad ray or swept back bird, the *Red Wake* possessed an excellent use of space, with ample room for engines and cargo for its overall size. Doors on either side of the main hallway lead to crew quarters, one designated for the captain and the other designed to hold two other beings, though only Wist Nay'tu currently inhabited them. Further back were a pair of smaller rooms, one equipped to serve as a holding cell for prisoners whilst the other acted as a refrigeration unit. Next was the well furnished kitchen and common area, the table and fixed bench capable of seating four. Almost as a bonus feature the rear was capped by an expansive view courtesy of a gunner's seat set in a revolving ball turret. Back towards the bow the cockpit possessed a greenhouse like view screen with excellent visibility in all directions. The pilot's seat was centered in the cabin, the co-pilot/engineer's immediately behind and to the right, raised slightly to allow a still clear view forward. 
 
 Ghast smiled at the sight; the Ord Ivran Drydocks manufactured craft being one of the few constants in his life. Lost loves, comrades' deaths, incessant betrayals, the *Red Wake* was always the one thing that he could depend on. Equipped with a Class 2 and backup Class 12 hyperdrive, Ghast could cross the entire length of the galaxy in a little less than a month. To protect the ship its shields were strong enough to weather a fair sized barrage of laser fire before collapsing, with enough power to shunt shield power where needed on the bow or stern. And the Banshee-class ship had teeth. Mounted underneath the cockpit was a lethal mixture of three linked medium lasers and twin-linked ion cannons. Designed with frugality and lethality in mind, the lack of missile launchers kept cost to a minimum and the addition of ion cannons allowed the *Red Wake* to disable and capture enemy craft for boarding and salvage. The rear ball turret held a quad laser cannon to deal with enemy fighters from the stern and its even more vulnerable top and undersides. 
 
 In many ways the Banshee was a perfect mix between cargo, handling and combat capabilities. It could weather the worst a foe could throw at it, and then immediately repay the favor. The cargo hold was adaptable enough that just about anything could be done with and examples of modified Banshees ranging from dedicated passenger carriers to haphazard bombers abounded. While perhaps not as agile as a TIE/ln fighter, it could keep up with other, more older crafts, its superiority in arms and armor were a telling feature in many fights. Small wonder it found favor with the guns for hire and bounty hunters who originated from Ord Ivran. 
 
 Tomess Ghast ran an admiring hand along the blackthorn trim of the hatchway. The favored wood from his homeworld, it found its way into furniture and cabinets, and decorated many of the weapons traditionally wielded by Ivrish warriors. He had a dagger with a hilt made of the stuff, a gift from when he first left Ord Ivran to be a Khern. 
 
 `` How's your Huttese, Wist?'' He asked, half out of his cabin. 
 
 The Bothan frowned. 
 
 `` Decent I guess...'' 
 
 `` Good. We'll be on Nar Shaddaa in five days. Sleep tight.'' 
 
 With that the door to his cabin shut with a hiss, leaving the young female alone in the common quarters with a expression of dull surprise on her face. 
 

