The Continuing Adventures of Kelvin Bladeheart; Deep Space

Credits; Krell, Rea,
"This is your ship?"
"She's a beauty, isn't she."

Normally that line would have been a dead giveaway that the ship was a piece of crap.  But their new companion wasn't kidding, the thing was brand new, shiny as a fresh deca, and in spite of her apparent taste and personality it wasn't hot pink.  He didn't know much about small craft but it looked to him like...
"The latest in interstellar travel, Cystech Systems latest in personal transportation.  A customized Phastocruise mark V intergalactic yacht, fully out fitted with jump drive, star drive, gravity manipulation field, full spectrum energy dispersal field capable of resisting temperatures more than a half million outside of the livable range and direct hits from energy weapons up to forty million kilojoules, a responsive defense AI-guided missile system with self replenishing enchantments, an on-board waitstaff including personal masseuse, pilot drone, four-star chef, and two waiters, and best of all, it has heated seats!"

...Took the steam right out of his analysis.  He'd have guessed it was a four-year old MrocoMotors Type-Eight.  He'd been right about the heated seats though. 

"Come on, it's even bigger on the inside thanks to the 'Hull of Holding' enchantech."
Kelvin leaned in and whispered, "Looks like a MrocoMotors Type Eight to me, and not this years model either."
"I'm still wondering why it needed the missile system.  With shields that strong you'd need a battle station to scratch the paint."
"Would you rather I make it look like something else?  I'd be quite happy to make it look like a HrowLaine Mark CIX, or a Cresteil LV Nova; maybe a telephone booth would be more to your liking?  It can do that you know." 
"Does it do police boxes?"
"No, Cyssie said something about licensing issues."
"With who?"
"Yea, that's what I figured."

Krell looked at Kelvin, who simply shrugged and ascended the ramp into the ship.  He shook his head, crossed himself, and followed suite. 
She was right, it was bigger on the inside.  No real surprise there though, against the backdrop of the Gascan mountains any personal yacht looked small.  Despite the size it still felt somewhat cramped, the sides of the halls tended to be messy with stacks of crates and random articles of clothing lying around.  It smelled bad, and from the looks of things the only droids that hadn't been included were maids.  Otherwise, it looked like the ship was mechanical...was that a shoe sticking out of a crate of canned soup?  He stepped over and picked up a lone red, high heeled shoe.  Sure enough a number of dented cans of soup were underneath, sitting on top of several rather tawdry magazines.  How in the world had he gone from his nice, clean little chapel in the country to this...pig stye!
He backed up slowly.  And then spun about just in time to watch the ramp seal behind him. 
"Are you coming Father?  You need to be seated for takeoff."
By Kevand's whiskers, what had he gotten himself into?

He ran up the hall to the cockpit, found an empty chair and strapped himself in. 
"Mind explaining the mess in the halls?"
"What mess?  Sit back and relax, Neimath ho!"
The ship rose, accelerating quickly as it rose.  A brief rumble as they hit the atmosphere and then the vastness of space rolled out before them. 
"Why did I have to be seated for this?"
"For that?  We've got inertial dampeners and energy shielding to deal with the atmosphere, this is the part you want to be seated for."
She pushed a lever forward, and the ship lurched through space.  The stars faded as the entered the plane of travel, and the windows tinted to block out the black speckled white that took its place. 
"Well, that gives us four days to wander about and enjoy the ship.  Have fun."

Kelvin wandered off without a word.  Krell stayed, mesmerized by the slowly moving black pinpoints in the plane of travel. 
"What, never been off world before?"
"Not with a window, not for a long time anyways." 
"Trust me, it's much more fun this way.  Ex-military?"
"God needed me to serve my people in a different way, the Emperor understood."
"You know, my father once told me that the greatest heroes are the ones who know to stop fighting when the war ends."
"And you?  From the looks of it you've seen a fight or two in your time."
"I prefer to avoid fights, they get messy.  But I can hold my own."
"Magic?"
"Witch-Errant, first class; my liscense is long expired though.  Spent more than a few years at the Arcane Academy too, that diploma is still valid though."
"Weapons?"
"Well, the academy weapons program was a complete waste.  But I did a stint fighting on Anatolia for a while, a very nice man showed me how to use a sword and my father taught me how to fight properly soon afterward."
"What's your name?"
"Call me Rea, it's short for reaper girl.  It's a nickname, and it's all anyone living knows.  Pray you never know more."
"Then Anonymity is the name of the game Ms. Rea.  Call me Father Krell, no one's called me anything more in nearly four hundred years." 
"Forgive the mess, I'm still moving in.  My last ship had a bit of an on-purpose."
"I know the feeling, done it a few times myself."
Complete silence, she wasn't kidding.  Admittedly he wasn't either, but something about the silence seemed to express a much greater seriousness.  Rea was a lot deeper than she let on, other than her cleaning habits anyways.