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Full name Nova Lockheed
Date of Birth March 16, 2501
Parents Corporal Joseph Lockheed -father, deceased,Clara Lockheed-Versailles -Mother, remarried
Siblings None
Spouse Unwed
Assignment Crew Member (Greasemonkey) aboard the Redemption
Gender Female
Eyes and Hair Green eyes/Black hair
Height and Weight 5'6"/120 pounds
Status Active
Education Information

Home schooled

Military Service

When the browncoats rise again, most likely.

Employment History
  • Past 1: Mechanic aboard the Redemption
  • Past 2: fill
  • Past 3: Fill
  • Past 4: Fill


Born a mechanic's daughter on Whitefall, Nova learned to do fixin' early on from her Daddy. When she was ten, the Independants went to war, and her father with them. She carried on as best she could in the meantime, even doing some repairs and minor crimes for some shady folk to help keep things going. When her father returned, she helped care for him, now a broken man after the horrific battle at Serenity Valley. After his death, her mother was suddenly betrothed to another, more afluent man, and after some harsh words, projective saliva, and a boot to the junk, Nova ran offworld, bouncing from ship to ship as a greasemonkey until she found herself in the Eavesdown Docks, when some crazy chick named Pix was holding a part of the Redemption's engine mast and hollering out for a mechanic that 'doesn't suck'. The part was brought to see if any prospects could identify it. Not only could Nova ID it, she told Pix exactly where she could stick it. She got the job...


Generally of a sunny disposition, she usually shows concern to folk around her. She has a folksy, vaguely flirtatious way about her, generally throwing the endearment "Shugah" around with impunity. The dark side of her psyche involves the aftermath of the Unification War, and she holds the Alliance, and most of it's proponents, in contempt. Time will tell how she can deal with disenfranchised members of that faction.


About five and half feet, around the hundred and fourty mark is a moderately curvy Euro-descended woman, with dark green eyes. She has skin that is extremely fair, with a tendency to be smudged with grease now and then, and a beltlength haystack of black hair that runs rampant from her scalp on occaision, but those conditions are mutually exclusive. Her hands are nimble, if far too calloused by hard work to be a proper lady. She talks with an accent that wanders between drawl and purr with a the breathy sort of voice a fella wants to hear on the other end of a service call. For clothes, she wears weathered Blue Sun bandeaus of grey cotton-blend and a pair of natural leather leggings, held up with a combination toobelt and pistol holster. Buckled boots with heavy-nailed soles encompass her legs past the swell of her calves, with fingerless black gloves at her hands, and the elastic band of a pair of red-tinted welding goggles holding them in place on her brow. In cooler climes, a tanned leather duster engulfs her figure, mated with an outback styled hat that rest upon her head in place of her goggles, which would then be dangling at her throat.

Recent History


Beckett took to her on their first meeting.

  • Every time the pair have hung out, someone has reached their speech/violence threshold.

She likes being a mechanic so much, she has the motto "If it ain't broke don't fix it" tattooed on her shoulder.


    • After accepting a rather risque' dare from her crewmate her first week on the job

Nova blushes a bit, "Well, I'm not exactly timid... besides..." She wags her fistful of credits, "I'magine I'll get plenty of mileage out of Crow." she adds with a wink.

    • Nova on Wedding proposals

Nova grins, "Any time I come with a wedding request flush faced and without my toolbelt is suspect!" she chuckles.

    • Nova's Do's and Don'ts on mechanic hygiene

A chuckle, "Well, it's kind of hard to make friends on a new boat if'n ya smell like the scrubber on a scram intake soaked in rust an' oil." Nova sighs thoughtfully, her eyes far away for a few moments before they regain the now, "I apologize in advance fer when I'm -that- tired."

    • As Starling and Nova discuss fine dining

Uh-huh. Yeah. "Never called'm critter sandwiches. I guess that air'a mystery kinda adds some zing to the meal." the mechanic replies with a shrug, then, to make nice-nice, she smiles with a, "I'm Nova."

    • After finding out Starling's preferred handle

"Star?" she parrots a moment, then, with a shrug, "I won't make jokes if you won't." She settles back in her seat, "Howya mean 'broke', they sly're something?"

    • Nova the warrior-poet

"Win if you can, lose if you must, but always cheat." Nova replies sagely with a little shrug, "She probably lost a bet."

    • Nova's stance on pitying veterans or trauma survivors

The mechanic looks him in the face via the mirror, "Pity's fer abandoned kittens, Crow, and battered housewives without spines..." She lays her cheek against him, "I'm sorry, I reacted the way I did.... an' I respect that you came through all that an' can still laugh."

    • Yeah, she's a Browncoat's kid

Nova cants her head, "Th'right fer a a planet to rule itself, fer a man to have a say in how his own house runs?" Nova replies, "That's what m'Daddy fought for. If anything 'sides love an' family's worth squeezin' a trigger.... it's them."


Nova's eyes glimmer wetly, though her expression is intent, her voice thick, "The Bellies offered, an' the Browncoats said 'no thank you'. Then they said 'Take it or else', and we said 'get bent'." She stands then, tense, "Ain't an offer if y'got a gun behind it, an if a man's got a gun pointed atcha, ya got two options, be's bitch, or kill the mother-humpin son-of-a-bitch."

    • Ahh, romance...

Nova takes her head in her hands and sags, "Us.... wait... aiya hua le, are you two a fuckin' item too?" she asks in resignation. That's it, "I'm buyin' a fuckin' robot!"