Private A tale as old as time

[Morgan E. Longstreet]

​

Location: Vandelhelm - Confederate outpost
Objective: Patrol


With a soft clack Morgan moved through the Confederate base. It was located deep in a mountain on the planet Vandelhelm. Honestly, the base was more an observation post, and supply cache. It housed large servers that dealt primarily with data collection for the area. Comm logs, sensor readings, who paid who and the like. It also housed enough ammo and supplies to wage a war in the quadrant, should something go wrong in the vicinity of the former ORC. As such, it was primarily housed by droids. Normally, two tactical droids ran the place, and a handful of organic agents oversaw everything. See, it was a ‘secret’ that the based was heavily visited by the various “intelligence” agencies of the CIS.

Now, Morgan wasn’t one to complain. But he hated jobs like this. See, there were many of him. One was always with Little Jazzy. Frankly, that was his favorite job too. This far out, it was difficult to get real time connections to the other entities that made him up. They all had a general idea of what the others were doing, but it wasn’t like it was when they were closer. Besides, babysitting a low level target...it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Not to mention, the servers were “off limits”.

DRAM. Droid. It was almost an insult. The mechanical being moved off to the side, into a break room, where he took out one of his favorite cigars, lit it, and began to smoke it. A small slit in his faceplate opened up, he took it in, internal ventilators breathed the smoke in deep. Internal sensors analyzed the smoke in great detail. Ahh, Corellian. They knew how to do it right.

Many who encountered him, found his habits odd. He gained nothing from this action. He didn’t need it. He wasn’t able to be addicted to the nicotine either. However, despite their opinions, he could taste it, sense it, smell it, and it was an enjoyable activity as he focused on others more important things.


Far away on Geonosis, while it was hard to connect, he could see Jazzy. She was playing in a local park that was outside the complex. The assigned instance pushed her on a swing set. She was the most adorable thing in the galaxy. He was there for her. All the others protected her little world, by defending the CIS, bringing money back home, and making sure danger stayed as far from her as possible. He didn’t have the benefit to slack off. Each was part of a whole, and understood how they fit into it all. Still….

As he finished smoking, Morgan went back to work. Scanners searched for any unusual activity, and he searched through every passed droid for any sign of tampering, or anything else worrying. Hands went into the pockets of his officer's coat. Colonel. His abilities had earned him a fairly decent rank. It was odd to think about. He doubted any other government would have allowed such a thing.

Then, something odd began. It started quickly, a flutter in his programming. Immediately defenses came into play, shielding the AI from damage. Error…..error. “What…” The being’s deep, drawled voice exited the vocabulator. Droids began to show massive errors all around him. Immediately he extended himself, connecting to a group of nearby droids, and doing what he could to shelter them from whatever was happening. However, even under his protection, much of their programming became corrupted.

Photoreceptors swept the area, as the droids further became erratic. He traced the signal that was causing the issue to the server suite. Something had gotten captured there that was taking control. However...it had infected far to much. A twitch, it was trying to spread. His metal legs rushed quickly, he ran through crowds of erratic droids. It was strong enough to over power much of the protections the CIS had placed in, after damned virus had nearly taken control of the entire army.

There was only one thing he could do for now, slow it down. He needed time to figure out a fix. The main transmitter needed to be shut down. He had no clue how the droids would react once fully infected. As he passed, he attempted to shield as many as he could, to slow down the spread. All four arms extended from his coat, two held onto blaster pistols, in case they were needed. Upon reaching the heavy armored door to the main transmitter, Morgan pushed in a security cylinder. That static in his mind was growing. It was difficult to communicate with the others...so he stopped trying. It would be more telling in this scenario if he stopped transmitting to the others altogether. The door opened and he rushed in, with the intent of shutting down the transmitter so it didn’t escape to the rest of the world.

 

[Nyx N1X3]

Nyx's swept winged heavy fighter swept in over Vandelhelm some time ago. An aerial survey of the region was made and compared to the previous survey performed of the region. Motionless, her processing unit and that of the fighter combined to process the data in real time in detail. A direct link to the ship made piloting and surveying the area a straightforward prospect. A few minor updates were noted to be forwarded on through appropriate channels so as not to question why Nyx had visited the planet, but otherwise nothing immediately stood out.

Soon after the aerial sweep, she came about and set down a short distance from a nearby Confederate facility. The easiest way to have not been somewhere was to not land your ship on a designated landing pad. As for sensors and logs indicating her ship's existence, those were easy for a Ministry Slicer to erase.

Sometimes, Nyx questioned the ease with which it occurred. Then again, as a droid, 'fast' was relative; not to mention the special access codes that allowed the access. An enemy AI wouldn't find it as easy. At least that was the theory. At times she found herself testing that theory unannounced -- it was quite exciting for any organics stationed at the site.

The ramp to her ship had just buttoned up, and Nyx just started to move into the surrounding trees when a strange signal was picked up. Foreign code popped up before her analysis engine and were quickly dissected. Statistical analysis soon followed along with predictive models. Once the danger and impact were understood, the signal strength and direction were traced back to an obvious - if unfortunate - source in a nearby transmission tower.

It would seem the mission had begun before her arrival. Nyx appreciated the efficiency of the adversary, but would rather they have waited until they were in her crosshairs.

One hand reached over her shoulder to rotate the long railgun off her back and into her arms. Without uttering a sound, the metal chassis of the droid shot across the ground and between the trees faster than most would feel a solid block of metal should. Stealth was foregone in favor of speed. Loud, deep thuds followed each strike of her feet as they struck the ground.

Glowing red eyes beheld a strangely adorned figure entering the main transmitter. There was a very good chance she could headshot the person with a single bullet even as she was in motion. However, under the circumstances it seemed entering the transmitter after the transmission had begun would suggest they were not the one responsible. If they were endeavoring to stop it, shooting them would be counter productive. If they were not, shooting them might still be counter productive as a loss of information. So, for the moment, she refrained from violence.

Nyx did not slow down, however, until she was forced to in order not to fly straight through the open blast doors and potentially into an ambush. With the railgun hefted in her hands, the droid advanced at a steady, brisk pace. "Identify yourself and your intentions." If they declined, Nyx would focus on knocking the transmitter offline even if she had to destroy it. Their response was a secondary objective, whether friendly or hostile.

Tag: Morgan E. Longstreet