Svinty Bzruch

"Ain’t a problem that can’t be patched, welded, or lied about ‘til you make orbit again."

— Svinty Bzruch, ship engineer, alleged smuggler (only in three jurisdictions)

From Trucker to Tinkerer

Svinty Bzruch was once a simple cargo hauler, ferrying supplies and salvage between the moons of Saturn. He was a licensed Pilot under the Haus des Drachen commercial logistics arm, known among the Anthe circuit for his unlicensed modifications and his unnerving ability to keep ancient haulers in the black when others would’ve declared them scrap. His career was mostly unremarkable—until a fateful decision rerouted his life permanently.

On a routine haul from Tethys, Svinty discovered a family of mutants being hunted by HUMNX. Instead of reporting them to the Ringside Army Command as protocol required, he hid them inside his cargo bay—a section not rated for human survival. Through a cocktail of system tweaks, jury-rigged ventilation, and a few secret compartments he’d built into the haul rig’s superstructure, he smuggled them to Anthe, where they applied for asylum. Officially, this act was categorized as human trafficking, and his license was revoked. Unofficially, Haus des Drachen paid his fines, nominated him for a minor commendation, and reassigned him to Anthe’s stardock maintenance wing. The family’s survival, it was later admitted, was thanks largely to Svinty’s half-illegal modifications to the ship’s life support redundancy systems. When pressed, Svinty shrugged and claimed the mother was attractive enough that he couldn’t say no.

The Red Knight’s Arrival

Svinty was supposed to be off-duty. Dawn Carpellon D'Janus, still in training but already infamous, returned from what was supposed to be a diplomatic event with torpedo holes in her hull and a backwash of melted plating, scorched stabilizers, and several melted anchor points across the portside keel. The stardock crew had been dismissed early that evening—her arrival had not been expected, and there was no scheduled work. Svinty had skipped out of his shift and crawled behind a pallet of spare parts to sneak a nap and ride out the quiet. When Dawn’s battered ship limped in, he was the only one left.

Too groggy to argue and too pragmatic to flee, he accepted the job she assumed he was there to do. Her assumption—that he was staying behind out of dedication—left him bemused, but curious. By dawn, his annoyance had faded into something else entirely.

The Mad Fix

One of the unexploded torpedoes lodged in Dawn’s ship had failed to detonate on impact, embedding itself deep in the inner hull. Svinty disarmed the warhead, then dismantled the casing, using it as a core to seal the largest breach. He repurposed onboard welding lances to seal the edges, forming an airtight if unconventional patch. The internal cabin pressure held.

But the outer hull needed more. He broke into storage and stripped a ceremonial Cataphract mech on display for parade purposes, removing its armored chestplate and thermal shielding. He affixed it to the ship’s wound using magnetic clamps reinforced with heat-bonded welds. The Pilot’s chair and control console—lost in the earlier damage—were also replaced with the mech’s interface systems, rewired into the ship’s existing matrix through a tangled symphony of patch cords, spliced bundles, and faith.

“It ain’t pretty, but it’ll hold up to a vacuum, plasma fire, and a guilt trip from your mum. That’s three for three.”

A Brag Too Far

When Dawn arrived to inspect the repairs at dawn, she was solemn and direct. She complimented the craftsmanship, the stability, and even the unconventional aesthetic, noting it "reflected admirable creativity in defense of purpose." Svinty, bleary-eyed and basking in adrenaline and flattery, made the fatal mistake of bragging:

“Hell, if I was in charge of this thing, I could her better’n she ever was.”

He did not realize until two days later that she had taken him seriously. His name was added to the ship’s log. A berth was assigned. Supplies were drawn under his authorization. By then, the only honorable thing left to do was to pack a wrench and keep moving forward.

He’s been in her service ever since. Grumbling, fixing, and occasionally saving her life one weld at a time.