Adventures of a Shard and a Zabrak, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Long Thread Titles

[Rusty]

Now there was a question that Rusty was prepared to answer. He had halfway expected this, and at any rate, he needed a way to explain what was going on to the board at RCFC. They were used to Rusty more or less doing as he pleased, but they at least liked to have some semblance of a legal framework.

He tossed Lok a datapad.

"Remember how I said I owned a gun store? Weeeelllll, it's more of a multiplanet corporation at this point. Things got out of hand real fast," he said, with more than a hint of chagrin in his voice. Out of hand was an understatement. "At any rate, I can take you on as an apprentice or intern or whatever the hell you want to call it."

The datapad contained the standard RCFC paid intern contract. The Shard had never planned on using it, but Koko insisted that they needed to have a mechanism for it in place, just in case. Sometimes, he swore that woman was clairvoyant. Eralam suspected that she might have a very low key Force sensitivity that gave her flashes in insight.

The "Duties and Responsibilities" section wasn't terribly detailed, owing to the fact that it was designed to be as flexible as possible, but other sections included figures for a salary which had more zeroes on the end than was probably healthy, health, vision, and dental coverage, and even a travel expense account. The contract was good for one year, with the option to extend.

"See, here's how I look at it. It's going to take some time to track him down, wherever he is. That gives us time to get you up to speed on fighting Force Users, something that nearly no one is good at unless they've trained specifically for it. In the mean time, we need a good excuse to keep you around, and something tells me that you're not gonna be happy taking the easy way out when it comes to a debt. So during the day, at least on days when I'm stuck in the office, you can work for me as an intern, doing...whatever the hell it is interns normally do. You'll earn a salary, so you'll be able to buy your own weapons and gear and won't owe me anything on that front. During the evenings, we'll train. When I can get away from the office, you can come along and get some real world experience. If we find a lead, we drop everything and chase it down. If we find your brother in under a year, you agree to finish out the contract, and if it takes longer, we can extend as necessary. If all goes well, when all is said and done you'll have your brother back, a useful skillset, and maybe even a job if you find something at RCFC that catches your fancy. How does that sound?"

The Shard did not expect things to go well, not in the slightest. In fact, he was pretty sure this would all end in tears and blood and maybe tears mingled with blood. That sort of happy ending only happened in holodramas, and usually not the good ones. Not that he planned to tell Lok that. If he was wrong, no harm no foul. She'd have her happy ending and that was that. If he was right, there was no point in telling her now. Hope was a powerful motivator, and he had no right to take that from her.

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Most people, like the cautious, deliberate, thoughtful people would've read the entire contract to be sure there were no gimmicks. It would've been the smart thing to do, considering how shady the galaxy could be. Then, if anything would've come up, said people would've known what they could and could not do.

However, anything over a couple pages long bored Lok, and contracts were, in her opinion, worse than being staked on a poisoned beam above a pit of hungry nexus. So, after skimming the datapad for 2.6 seconds, the Zabrak began to hand it back. "When do I begin?" she asked, giving him a lopsided grin. What she didn't tell Rusty, though, was that for the first time in a long time, she could feel her hope becoming less desperate and more...possible. Like she'd been drowning and, right when her limbs were beginning to tire, somebody threw her a life raft. And then that same somebody took her aboard, gave her new clothes, warmed her up, and taught her how to swim. It was incredible, and had Lok been a mushy person, she would've said so. But she wasn't, so she didn't. Even so, something told her that there was no need for words to explain to Rusty what all this meant. "I mean, who wouldn't want to work for one of the biggest gun manufacturers and stuff in the galaxy?"

Lok's smile faded a bit. She'd have to tell her parents - there was no way around it. Granted, she didn't have to, but... Then they'd know that Lok hadn't wasted their time or money. That she'd finally found the right path, and would soon find Thatch, too.

She just had to contact them first.

"Do you...have a holocom or something I could borrow? Just for a little bit?" Lok fidgeted. "I have to let my folks know what's going on. And that I haven't died."

 

[Rusty]

"We'll finalize the details when we land. Should hit Dressel in a few hours. There's a holocomm station back the way you came, opposite of the refresher. It should be up to the task, though I can't make any promises about encryption."

While she went off to talk to her parents, a conversation Rusty wanted absolutely no part of, he figured it was time to have a difficult conversation of his own. His own pocket commlink had Holonet connectivity, so he could talk to Koko even when they were in hyperspace. She had, in fact, insisted on that little detail.

"Hey Boss, what's up?"

A miniature hologram of a pale, slender woman with features best described as predatory floated over the device. Koko was a Shard, but she had her own HRD for a chassis. It was, in many respects, modeled after classical beauty, but something had gone wrong in the translation. Her face was sharp, angular. It was beautiful in the same way that a fox was beautiful, right before it clamped its jaws on a rabbit's throat.

"Uh, well, I picked up a stray," Rusty said without preamble.

Koko swore.

"Dammit, Boss, you were supposed to be hunting," she snapped, exasperated.

"I was, I was, but there was a problem."

"Lemme guess: you were about to shoot the target, and then some poor soul decided to jump in. How am I doing?"

Rusty couldn't cringe, but there were definitely hints of it in his voice.

"More or less on track. Her brother was a Padawan, went missing. She thinks Sith."

The Shard woman sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Internship?"

"Yup."

"Okay, Boss. I'll have the paperwork drawn up when you get back. I knew you were going to pull a stunt like this sooner or later. Gotta go do...something. Have a drink maybe."

And with that, the hologram disappeared. For all her tough talk, Rusty knew Koko wouldn't mind. She tolerated his idiosyncrasies largely because he paid her a great deal of money to do so, but also because, deep down, she knew he was on his way to becoming something resembling a decent person. Not that she was attached to morality or anything, but that would make marketing a whole lot easier.

"Well, that was fun."

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Lok nodded without another word, her mind too preoccupied with the conversation ahead. In a sort of daze, she made her way to the holocomm station in no time.

This is ridiculous! she thought, breaking out of her haze and squaring her shoulders. I've faced Sith and I've travelled the galaxy and I got shot at and almost killed! And now I'm taking a job as an intern at the biggest weapons manufacturer in the galaxy! I shouldn't be afraid of my own family! She hesitated for a moment, then added, Maybe I should contact Rouk first.

Running a hand through her damp hair, Lok began to type in Rouk's contact information. She had no idea what he would be up to - her younger brother was 18 standard years old, and fairly soon would be going off to become a medic, like Jas Maxus. Some small part of her hoped she wouldn't be able to speak to him face-to-face, but the other part scolded her cowardice. Besides, Rouk always had a gift for toning down the severity of a situation, and generally keeping their parents calm. Or at least, calmer than if Lok were speaking to them alone.

With a deep sigh, she activated the connection.

Within three seconds, a half-size blue holo of a young Zabraki male showed up, looking slightly annoyed. At least, until he realised who it was.

"Lok! What happened? You've been quiet for almost three weeks now! Mom and Dad have been worried sick!" At first glance, it was hard to tell that the two were related. While Lok closely resembled her father, Rouk had taken more of his features from their mother. Rouk's face was sharp and angular, like his mother, with a strong jaw line. However, there was a hint of mirth that usually played around his face, taking an edge off his otherwise intimidating looks. Both siblings, however, got their green eyes from their mother and their darker-colored skin from their father. Their hair color was similar too, though Rouk's was a shade darker. Now, though, it stuck up all over and there appeared to be dark circles under his eyes.

"Hi, little brother, nice to see you too. I would've called earlier, but... I was busy."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Lok admitted. "It might give you a heart attack. How've you been?"

"Aside from worrying about you and Thatch? Decent, I guess. I've been applying to different medical colleges here at home, hoping one of them will take me. I'd apply offworld too, but... It's not in the budget right now." She felt a pang of guilt in her stomach, and vowed that first thing she'd do was send some money back home. It was the least she could do, after all.

"Heard any word from any?"

Rouk shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not yet, no. But I haven't been applying for very long, anyway."

"I'm sure you'll be accepted. You always were the best at patching up any boo boos our stuffed animals had."

The little bit of teasing earned Lok a smile, though it wasn't very big. "Yeah, I guess." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Um...how's your...search going?"

Lok shrugged. "Good, I guess. I haven't found very many leads on Thatch but um, well..." She grimaced slightly. "I got a job."

"A job? Doing what?"

"I'm an intern for Rusty. You know, the CEO slash owner slash founder of Rusty's Custom Firearms and Cutlery. Not only is it paid, but he's also offered to help me find Thatch. Dunno why, but, I'm not too keen to look this gift bantha in the mouth, y'know?"

Rouk stared at her, dumbfounded. "You...you got a job with RCFC? You? How in the kark did you manage that?"

"Language!" Lok snapped instinctively. In a lighter tone, she added, "Well, I, uh... Actually, you don't want to know that either. But no, I didn't sleep with him." She thought back to what Rusty had told her, about being a crystal brain in a droid body. "I don't even think he's into that." Rouk gave her a questioning look and started to open his mouth, but she cut him off. "How are Mom and Dad? Are the Jedi doing anything about Thatch?"

"Nothing from the Jedi, not since you left. Mom and Dad have been....alright, I guess, considering the circumstances. Do you want to talk to them?"

"Um, no thanks. I don't feel like being yelled at for my 'rash and unthinkable decisions' just yet. But... tell them I said hi, I'm fine, I love them, and that I'll call back later. 'Kay?"

"Yeah, sure..." Rouk studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "If you tell anyone else this, I'll kill you, but... It's lonely here, without you. Mom and Dad don't really do much outside of work, eat, and sleep since you and Thatch left. Nor can I talk about either of you without it causing a scene. When will you be back?"

"I don't know, Ruu-Ruu," she told him, using his childhood nickname. "But I'll call more, I promise. Love you."

"Love you too, sis. And...be careful. We can't stand to lose you, too." With those words, the hologram cut out.

Lok rubbed a hand over her face. "Well, that was fun," she muttered. From the way things sounded, it was definitely a smart move to call Rouk first. Even so, another stab of guilt knifed through her stomach. The sooner she found Thatch, the better.

 

[Rusty]

Oblivious to the family drama, Rusty pulled up the necessary paperwork for the internship. There would be a background check, of course, probably more invasive and thorough than Lok would like. Despite his spur of the moment offer, he wasn't completely ready to throw caution to the wind. He had made many, many enemies over the years, and while the vast majority were rotting in early graves, one could never be too careful.

Deep down, the Shard knew he was taking a huge risk. Monumental even. Lok's story rang true, and it wasn't at all uncommon, but it wouldn't do to be incautious. If everything went well, she'd never know that he'd run checks. If something fishy turned up, things could get interesting in a hurry.

In the mean time, he made a note for Koko to set up a temporary expense account and draw her a room key. The RCFC headquarters had a large dormitory for workers who didn't want to risk doing business with the sometimes dicey Breehara real estate industry, and that was where he personally stayed. His suite was flanked by two others. Koko claimed the one on the right, and the one on the left was empty. The suites were larger than most of the local apartments, and better furnished, to boot. Nothing fancy, of course, but comfortable in a utilitarian sort of way. Once the Zabrak started drawing a salary, she could furnish and decorate however the hell she wanted.

Rusty was not one of those employers who believed in screwing over employees to make a profit. Pay and benefits at RCFC were among the best in the industry, and that was exactly how he liked it. The weapons industry had been in a state of rampant growth for decades, and there was exactly no reason not to spread the wealth around generously. If, however, they were offering top notch benefits, they could afford to only hire the best. Just getting in the door at RCFC took some serious credentials. It wasn't enough to have the right degree and good references, one had to demonstrably be among the top tenth percentile in their chosen fields. Even the sanitation staff was made of of experts.

Understandably, Lok's hiring would likely cause some grumbling. There would almost certainly be those who wondered how in the hell a nobody Zabrak with no pertinent experience got themselves hired on in a position that many assumed would be filled by someone on the track to CEO themselves some day. At least there wouldn't be whispers about her sleeping her way to the top. Though Rusty had an HRD and had been known to indulge from time to time, its existence wasn't general knowledge. No one on the board knew he had it, at any rate, and the handful of people who did know would also know better than to think the Shard would trade such a lucrative position for favors of that sort.

They would, at some point, have to come up with some sort of logical fiction to explain just how she had ended up as Rusty's intern. For now, however, the Shard shoved that particular concern off onto the worryingly large stack of Things to Think About Later. There was no help for it now, and frankly, Koko was better at this sort of thing anyway.

To pass the time while waiting for Lok to get off the holocomm, Rusty picked a song more or less at random and set it to play softly in the cockpit. Like many of his kind, he found solace in music. Music, or good music, at any rate, was mathematically elegant. The symmetry was soothing, he found. Unless it was a killing song, in which case, it was a different sort of stimulus altogether.

https://youtu.be/TSwaVvF7rdU

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

After her little chat with her brother, Lok didn't feel like rejoining Rusty's company just yet. Instead, she made her way back to the main hold, settled down on one of the chairs, and began to type. She'd been attempting to keep a log of her activities, but up til now there had been nothing interesting to report, aside from one failure after the next. Now, though... Now she actually had something to write about.

And write she did. When Lok finished, she was delighted to see it was her longest entry yet. Allowing herself a brief smile of satisfaction, she clipped the datapad to her belt and stood up, stretching. It was time to find the source of the music - aka, Rusty.

She wandered back to the cockpit, leaning against the doorframe. "Groovy song," she told him. "Who plays it? It sounds a lot like a band back home, the Jumping Reeks. They don't tour anymore but they were a favourite of my dad's." Lok shrugged haphazardly. "Guess he passed his taste of music down to me." Small talk was an uncomfortable region for the Zabrak, so she abandoned the wraparound tactic and went straight to the point.

"Your bosses or whoever won't be too happy with you for hiring me, you know."

 

[Rusty]

Rusty snorted, the organic sound incongruous with the mechanical body.

"You know, you're awful considerate for a woman who's on a hunt for her brother. Kudos to your parents for raising you right, but you're gonna need to get selfish at some point. I don't have any bosses, so you don't have to worry about anything on that front. The others are paid well enough that they'll stop grumbling before too long."

The song came to an end and, rather than letting it continue onto the next, the Shard muted the playback.

"Kudos for the taste in music, too. That'll come in handy out here. The further you get away from the Core, the more folksy it becomes. Love songs become less bump and grind and more 'hey, she's got all her teeth and she's not my sister.' You can tell a lot about where a person comes from by the songs they nod their heads to," he said.

Before he had a chance to continue, the comm beeped.

::Canton's men at spaceport. Use HRD.::

"Dammit," Rusty swore as he read the missive. "Things just got a wee bit more complicated.

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Rather than argue, Lok just shrugged. "More like I'm not going to lie if anybody asks what happens." Which was true. Though she herself didn't fully understand why, the Zabrak was almost petrified of lying about anything. As such, she'd perfected the art of stubborn silence. Just not conversation silence. "How rich are you, anyway?"

Or, apparently, how to put a filter between her brain and her mouth.

Before Rusty could say anything else, however, a beep sounded from his comm. Quick as a flash, Lok was peering over the metal man's shoulder, trying to read the message. " 'Canton'? Who's Canton? Is he a rival of yours? A mob boss?" Her eyes widened. "Does he wanna kill you? Is there a bounty on your head? And what's an 'HRD'? Does it stand for Human Resource Droid, or what? Or is it a gun? Do I get to use it too?"

She rubbed her arms. "Do we get to shoot them? Or do we have to turn around? How long is this gonna take?"


​ooc note: you've got 14 questions to answer there, buddy. Better get to it

 

[Rusty]

"I swear to the Force, I'm gonna make a gun that can tape your mouth shut from across the room," Rusty snapped, glaring at the young Zabrak. No one glared quite like an angry Shard, even if they couldn't move their face. "Sit down, shut up, and stop with the twenty questions so I can think."

On a scale of one to ten, things had just stepped up to about a twenty on the complicated meter. Not necessarily the bad meter, mind. Canton's cronies were no trouble at all, and giving them the slip was always fun. No, the complicated part came from trying to explain to this one what was going on.

"Okay, so here's the super short version: Canton is a Dressellian official with ties to an organization with nefarious motives. No, we can't kill him. He's been pushing for strict gun control and trying to have manufacturers such as myself shut down, since that'll make the takeover a lot easier when his folks come knocking. But since people like me a hell of a lot more, he hasn't managed it. Since he can't shut me down, he tries to harass me from time to time with some of his cronies, usually customs agents. We're gonna fly in under a false registration, and I'm gonna hop into a body they don't recognize. I'm gonna leave the cockpit, and I'll be back in five minutes. Don't touch anything, and don't freak out when you see me. I promise we're the only two people on this ship."

Without further ado, the Shard strode out of the cockpit and headed back to his cabin. It didn't much resemble traditional living quarters on a spaceship. The desk was littered with tools and bits and pieces of various different weapons that he'd been tinkering with. The floor was kept tidy, but the shelves on the walls were stuffed to capacity with tools, parts, parts of tools, and the odd box of datapads. Where the bed should be was a stasis pod.

The stasis pod opened up once the correct code was transmitted, revealing a very human looking body. The only thing that gave away the fact that it was mechanical in origin was the opening in the chest. Rusty stripped off his flannel shirt and popped open an identical panel on his own chest, then began the changeover procedure.

Moving on its own accord, his left hand reached into his droid body's chest and pulled out what appeared to be a black box about a foot long, six inches wide, and three inches deep. It was covered with tiny data leads and connections. Continuing the preprogrammed series of movements, the box was deftly inserted into the HRD's chest. The droid body then walked over to a large, sturdy chair and sat itself down. The lights in the eyes went out as it powered down.

Meanwhile, the eyes on the other body fluttered open as Rusty took control. They were quite striking eyes too, an unnatural shade of silver that had been designed to be unnerving. The rest of the body was just as remarkable. It was designed to have the exact same dimensions as the droid body, in order to make life easier for Rusty, but as a result, well...

As Rusty sat up, layers upon layers of muscles rippled in the dim light of the cabin. In giving the body the same dimensions, the designers had figured what the hell, might as well, and sculpted it after some ancient Corellian god of protein shakes. It lacked the grotesque proportions of a professional bodybuilder, more closely resembling a professional athlete who understood the importance of cardio and weightlifting, or perhaps an action holodrama star who had starved themselves for a week so they could get that one shirtless scene in where they made the ladies in the audience swoon and the men in the audience buy gym memberships.

The Shard stood and stretched, working out the stasis-induced kinks in his muscles. He strode over to the mirror, making a few faces to ensure that he had complete control. The face was yet another feature that the designers had probably spent a little too much time on. Largish, expressive eyes, jawline that you could use as a carpenter's square, high cheekbones and a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow, it wasn't what Rusty would call inconspicuous.

The whole design had been a deliberate poke in the eye. When he cajoled the Shard Network into procuring him an HRD, he had been hoping for bland and inconspicuous. Instead, he got something that the Captain had delicately referred to as "meat candy." It was nice to not have to memorize a second set of body dimensions, which would have made combat in the HRD a pain, but Rusty would have much rather have gone through the trouble of learning the extra muscle memory than having to worry about making people weak at the knees at twenty paces.

He grumbled for a bit, then pulled on some blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt, his usual green wool socks, and his combat boots.

Exactly five minutes after he left, he reentered the cockpit.

"Remember when I said don't freak out?"

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Arms crossed, Lok slouched in her seat and waited for Rusty to come back. In his absence, she mulled over his words. So Canton was a crooked fella who had it in for Rusty. Nice. It was better than some of the scenes the woman had been imagining, at least. At the very least, she was confident they (meaning Rusty) could take 'em on if things got too hairy.

That settled, she turned her thoughts over to the supposed second body Rusty said he was gonna "hop into." Was that the HRD from the message? And why did he tell her not to freak out? Was he hideous? No, that wouldn't make sense - if she'd learned anything about the Shard in their brief time together, it was that he liked to be inconspicuous. Which meant a nice, normal body-thing. But then why would he tell her not to freak out if it was a normal thing? And what in the bloody kark was an HRD??

Exactly five minutes later, she got her answer.

"Yeah, you told me just a few minutes ago. I'm not that forgetful," she said, looking up. And then blinked.

Most heterosexual females, primarily of the Homo Sapien category, probably would've swooned immediately at the sight of Rusty's new body. Everything about it screeched masculine sex idol, from the muscles that rippled with power to the handsomely chiseled face. No doubt there would have been some who'd immediately make advances, some would drool all over themselves, and others would probably be frozen in their tracks, knocked into some sort of hormonal stupor. Paparazzi would've even flocked to the scene to take pictures of this hunk of meat.

What did Lok do?

"Ick, that's your new body?" the Zabrak asked, wrinkling her nose. "I would've thought you'd go with something other than a boring old human. Like a Togruta, or a Wookiee, or even a Zabrak like me." As usual, her words were in earnest. It wasn't that Lok had anything against humans or other species, but... She just didn't find them very attractive - chalk it up to the conspicuous lack of horns, if you will. In any case, she was neither swooning nor freaking out. "And honestly, I liked your old body better. It looked cooler. Is that the HRD thingy you were talking about? You never told me what it was or what it stood for. You just told me to shut up which, really, wasn't very nice."

Lok affected a mock pout before moving on to the next subject. "And what can I call you now? I can't call you Rusty cuz they'll recognize you, but I can't call you a fake name cuz that'd be lying." She tapped a finger on her chin. "Hey, what about Skully? That would be an easy name for me to call you. I'm sure you can come up with a reason for it." The Zabrak sat up, a frown on her face. "And what are we gonna say? I can't exactly lie to them, which means I basically can't talk." Her frown deepened. "And that'd be suspicious if I don't talk. Do you have a mask or something I can wear over my mouth? Maybe that'll dissuade them!"

 

[Rusty]

Rusty sighed in a long suffering sort of way, and this time the gesture made a lot more sense. He didn't spend much time in the HRD, but the mannerisms tended to carry over.

"I suppose that's preferable to the average reaction," he grumped. "They're not gonna pay much attention to us, seeing as how they're looking for an RCFC ship. Which, you'll note, this is not. And we're gonna land in a public spot, rather than a private berth. And yes, you can call me Skully, if it makes you feel better."

There was an art, of sorts, to answering the rapidfire questions that Lok tended to present. If he could find a way to weaponize her curiosity, RCFC would obliterate the competition without even trying.

"Rule number 1 of trying to stay incognito: interesting is bad. Humanoid species like Zabrak or Twi'lek are fairly common, though Zabrak facial tattoos tend to be kind of distinctive. Togruta aren't as common, and Wookiees are almost always noteworthy. Humans, on the other hand, are absurdly common pretty much everywhere you look. Stay within the common skin coloration and hair colors and dress modestly and no one pays you any mind. This body is a bit outside the norm, but with bulky clothes it's not too bad. I didn't choose it," he added hastily.

It was about then that the warning alarm beeped, signalling that it was time to drop out of hyperspace.

The Dressel system was unremarkable in nearly every way. Far enough from the Core that it didn't attract much attention from the major powers, but seated on a major hyperspace lane, making it a good choice for shipping, and with a fairly comfortable climate, it wasn't any real chore to settle there. The locals were a standoffish lot, but they more or less would tolerate anyone if they stayed within the bounds of the laws and paid their taxes. Rusty made sure RCFC did both, and as a result, he was quite popular with the planetary government.

Well, most of it.

Sure enough, Canton's men were prowling around the reserved RCFC bays, but they didn't seem to be paying much attention to the civilian berths. Rusty led the pair out at a leisurely pace, and picked up a rented speeder. Once they were safely inside, he keyed up a device that would block any listening devices planted onboard and set a course for RCFC headquarters.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Sadly, the landing and events thereafter were remarkably unremarkable. They exited the ship (she made sure she had her datapad - the gun and clothes were left behind for obvious reasons) with no sight of Canton's men anywhere. In spite of herself, she almost felt disappointed. Granted, with no gun, there wasn't much she could do, but she was certainly interested in seeing how Rusty fought.

When they arrived to the rental speeder, the young woman hopped in the back seat and sat down on the passenger side. "Not bad? You kidding?" Lok crossed her arms and slouched in her seat, to the point where her head was halfway down the back and her legs were folded up awkwardly. "That was the most boring confrontation ever. Oh well."

It was hard to watch the buildings go by when you were practically upended in a speeder, so the Zabrak instead affixed her eyes to the back of the seat in front of her. She went like this for at least a minute (a world record, folks!) before opening her mouth again to let the flow of questions tumble out.

"How far away are the headquarters? Are they big? Will we live on there? Or do you have a separate building for living? And how far away is that? Do I get my own room? Is it a big room?" Her neck was starting to get sore from the awkward position, so she wriggled herself up a bit. "Do I get to meet Koko? Do I have to fill out any paperwork? Will I get my own gun when we get there? What about a knife? Or, oh, a grenade launcher?? Is that the only HRD you have?"

Lok took a breath, and concluded with, "What about snacks? Do you have any snacks? I'm hungry."

 

[Rusty]

Rusty closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And then another.

Nope, not working.

"I swear on all things holy, I'm making a duct tape gun just as soon as we get back," he muttered.

The RCFC campus was a huge, sprawling complex on the outskirts of Breehara. It was, for all practical intents and purposes, its own self contained city, with a population of over 15,000 beings all living and working there, and another few thousand who preferred to commute. It had all the amenities one would expect for a town. There were places to eat, shop, and a large fitness complex where beings from all over could engage in their favorite sports, or just work out if they wanted. There were even bars and cantinas to suit nearly every taste.

Of course, it took a lot of effort to make all that work. There was a constant flow of traffic in and out through various service entrances, all neatly regimented and controlled. Rusty sought out and paid handsomely the most OCD air traffic controllers he could find, and they were ruthless in enforcing order. This was at least in part because of security concerns. There was enough ordinance here to crack a planet if it was misused, and hardly a day went by without someone trying to sneak in for nefarious purposes. The delivery companies had been understandably upset the first time a speeder that deviated from proper procedure was reduced to atomic ash, but the brave ones had stayed on and made a mint in the process.

Rusty piloted the speeder over to one of the service entrances and slipped effortlessly into the line of traffic. His HRD had its own biometric identifiers that allowed it through the lines, more or less without notice. A couple of different ATC folks had, discreetly, brought up the problems posed by having a being they didn't recognize be able to go in and out as it pleased, but they had been quietly assured that the problem was well above their pay grade, and that they shouldn't worry about it.

Once they were through the entry point, the Shard piloted the speeder to an unused and seemingly abandoned building towards the center of the complex. He set it down on the roof perhaps a mite harder than was strictly necessary, and popped the hatch.

Koko was waiting for them.

For all practical intents and purposes she looked and moved like a normal human. The only thing that gave away the fact that she wasn't was the unnaturally pale skin and stark white hair that was currently pulled back into a bun. Even Echani had been known to suggest she go out and get some sun.

Her face was lean and angular, defined by definitions of artistic beauty and then twisted into something predatory. High cheekbones, narrow chin, small, pert nose, and an expressive mouth out of a classical painting, and eyes out of a nightmare. Almond shaped and palest blue, they had a way of cutting right to the quick, as though she could evaluate exactly what someone was worth, down to the centicred, at a glance. The effect grew more pronounced the longer her gaze lingered, as it did on Lok as they stepped out of the speeder.

"And you must be Ms. Maxus," she said by way of greeting, completely ignoring Rusty in the process. "I do hope the Boss hasn't made too much of an ass of himself."

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

"Yeah, that's me. Call me Lok though, it's less snooty than 'Miss Maxus'. And I just assumed that was his normal attitude." This last comment was said with a smarmy grin directed at the metal man.

When Lok had gotten out of the speeder, she'd initially been awed by the way everything looked in the facility, but the shock had quickly faded. Mucking around in urban areas tended to do that to folks, even ones such as herself. At least it'd made her forget about her stomach.

She refocused her attention on the woman who'd spoke. The Zabrak couldn't decide if she was constipated or about to stab someone. Her gaze, however, completely unfazed the young woman. It wasn't the first time someone had looked at her like that; Lok was a boisterous, stubborn, nosy, chatty tomboy of a girl (even by Zabraki standards) who was willing to use her fists as well as her mouth to defend herself. Her teachers had always died a little inside every time Lok entered the classroom (though by the end of secondary school she'd caught the hang of raising her hand, though the concept of waiting til she was called on had still been foreign). As for her classmates, well, the bullies quickly learned to take up other hobbies if they knew what was good for them. There had even been one amusing month where the supervisor had attempted to "reprogram" Lok to be a good little girl... After the month was up, the school was looking for a replacement.

Long story short, authority figures really didn't bother Lok that much, no matter how scary they looked.

"You're Koko, right? Rusty's assistant? I thought you'd be taller." She looked around the area. "Why does this look so old and abandoned? Is this where secret drop-offs occur? Do you guys do anything illegal? What's wrong with your face? How come you don't keep this place up better? It's ugly compared to the other places. Speaking of, do I get to explore the other places? And when can I buy new clothes? Rusty ruined my only pair left; he got brain bits all over it. Real nasty, too. They probably stink something awful on the ship now. The clothes around here aren't as fancy as these clothes, are they?" Lok tugged on her jacket as if to emphasize how ridiculous she thought they were. "What about food? You guys got meat don't you? I can only really eat meat, you see. Plants make me puke. Kibbles aren't too bad, but they taste weird. I'd rather not eat those again. Then again, I'm hungry enough that I'd probably eat anything. Except plants, anyway."

​Her eyes lit up. "Hey! Maybe that's what you guys should do - install snack compartments in Rusty! Then if I ever get hungry I can just pop him open and eat." So enthralled with this idea was she that it failed to register how, erm, bad her statement sounded.

 

[Rusty]

Koko stood by impassively as she watched her boss's blood pressure rise. The longer Lok went on, the closer she came to getting punted off the rooftop. Rusty really was trying his hardest not to kill her, but it was becoming harder by the second. And still Koko waited. Not because she was being petty, though she certainly did enjoy the Boss's discomfort (serves him right for picking her up in the first place, the prick). She needed to know two things: firstly, how dedicated was he to helping the girl and secondly, could she shut up to save her life?

People reacted to stress in a variety of different ways. Lok, it seemed, let her mouth and her curiosity run wild. That was going to get her killed if she couldn't control it, and letting Rusty do the dirty work really was the kindest way to go about it. If she mouthed off to a target like that while they were off hunting her brother down, she could expect a slow, painful death under a torturer's knife. The Boss would at least make it quick.

The fact that he had thus far restrained himself was impressive. Like most Shards who spent more time in mechanical form than in HRDs, the emotions that the humanoid chassis simulated to make blending in easier were hard for him to control. She knew he had poor impulse control in that form. In his typical droid chassis, he was as stoic as a rock. In his HRD, it was like the Boss was a completely different person. He drank and fought and screwed, sometimes all at once. The fact that he had restrained himself thus far spoke volumes; Rusty must really see something in this girl.

Time to step in.

"Lok," Koko said sweetly, "whether or not you survive the next three minutes depends entirely on your ability to shut. The kark. Up. I have neither the ability nor the inclination to stop Rusty from throwing you off this rooftop, as I suspect he is quite close to doing, and I've no problem billing your family for the disposal of your corpse. So if you ever want to see your brother again, stop talking. There will be time for questions later."

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Lok opened her mouth to contest the woman...until a little voice warned her that it might be best to not argue. This time, anyway. So, wearing a rather mutinous expression, the Zabrak crossed her arms. "Oh, fine," she replied haughtily, her scowl deepening. Under her breath she added, "But I'm getting answers to my questions no matter what."

Perhaps all of her questions really were a reaction to stress. She didn't really know. Or care. Lok just knew that she fully expected to find out the answers, even if she had to snoop around. Giving a rather loud and overly dramatic sigh, she asked, "So what now? You gonna blindfold me or what?"

 

[Rusty]

Well, that was a start.

"No, but a ball gag might be in order," Koko muttered.

The next few hours were a blur of paperwork, swearing, and general misery as Rusty and Lok were forced through realms of bureaucratic hell by an increasingly irate Koko. Under normal circumstances, the inprocessing paperwork was completed over the course of a week or so, depending on the position and a few other factors. However, under normal circumstances, Koko wasn't expected to personally handle it, and she had been in the middle of a very good deep tissue massage when Rusty had called.

Artificial though her body might have been, the Shard woman liked to enjoy the finer things one could enjoy with one.

Rusty had tried to duck out to "take care of some stuff," but unfortunately for him, he was Lok's sponsor. He was stuck until she finished, and since he was already more or less captive, Koko forced him to catch up on all the stuff he had neglected over the past several months. It was grueling, but hey, it had to be done.

Finally though, as the sun set over the RCFC campus, the last signatures where signed.

Lok had been set up with an advance on her first paycheck that would allow her to pay for everything she'd need to settle in. It was a considerable sum of money no matter how you looked at it, so even though she'd have to live off it for a month, it would take some serious effort and a hedonistic bent that no one had suspected thus far to make a dent in it. This wasn't the sort of money one had to make last from paycheck to paycheck, this was the sort of money one typically hired an accountant to manage.

Rusty and Koko knew it was a lot, more than Lok had probably ever had, and under normal circumstances, more than she would ever have the chance to make. This was a test, of course. If she was going to find her brother, it would take a considerable amount of discipline, and while they expected her to go a little nuts, they also wanted to see if she could rein it in after the shock wore off.

She had also been set up with a suite next to Rusty's own. There were only a handful of rooms in this particular building. It had living quarters, yes, but also workshops, firing ranges, a gym, and a variety of other facilities that would be useful for training. Though Rusty had no use for a gym, Koko believed in keeping her HRD body in shape the old fashioned way, and made extensive use of the provided facilities. Rusty primarily used the workshops and the firing range. He liked to work in peace.

The suite was large, larger than the average family home. It had its own bathroom, a state of the art kitchen, an entertainment center, holonet communications suite, the works. The kitchen had been stocked with food specific for a Zabrak's dietary needs.

Once she was set up, Koko retreated without another word. She was in as foul a mood as Rusty at this point, and frankly, didn't want to deal with either of them.

"The rest of the evening is yours," Rusty grumbled before disappearing into his own room. "You've more or less got run of the campus, but remember that training starts in the morning. Be at the firing range at 0730. Night."

And with that, he vanished off into his own chambers. There was an ominous hum as his door closed and something energized.

[member="Lok Maxus"]

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Lok just grunted in response. The whirlwind of paperwork, questions, contracts, and everything else had left her brain in sort of a numb state of mind. Sensory overload, probably. Fortunately, she was functioning enough to take note of what Rusty had said - firing range at 7:30 in the morning, local time - so, throwing her bag of meager belongings on the floor, the girl walked over to the holocom network and fiddled around until she figured out how to set the alarm for about a half hour prior. That ought to give her enough time to eat and haul ass down to the range. Being tardy wouldn't do.

Done with that, she scanned the fridge. Scanning the options, her mouth began to drool. There were at least 10 different types of meat, with at least that many types of cuts. Some were cooked already, some were raw, but all of them made her stomach growl. For a moment, Lok considered cooking some meat herself - nothing tasted better than a freshly cooked slab of muscle - but dismissed it. She was too tired right now to go through that; she'd end up burning something down.

Instead, she grabbed a container of something that looked like a piece of breaded white meat with white sauce on it. Eyeing it, the Zabrak shrugged and popped it in to the re-heater.

Five minutes later, Lok was stretched out on her bed, belly full and her body slowly drifting off to sleep. Up til now, adrenaline had kept her going and focused, but now that same hormone was being removed from her system, leading up to a well-earned crash.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the mental block she'd put up was turned off, too.

"Where is my brother?" Lok shrieked, her gun pointed at the Sith. His back was turned to her, and his hood was up. His head tilted to the side, but he neither answered nor turned around.

Her hands were shaking, and her eyes were tearing up. She just wanted to find Thatch, dammit! Why couldn't she find him? "Hey, I'm talking to you! Where's my brother? Where's my brother Thatch?" She stumbled forward, her feet kicking at the trash in the dirty alley. As she walked, the alley's dimensions started to become distorted, threatening to disorient the young woman.

"Where is he?!" she shrieked again. She was almost to the Sith, who'd yet to move. His face pulled back some, and in the dark she could see his nose, his mouth, and a small bit of his face tattoos - all of which looked vaguely familiar. Lowering her weapon, she reached out with a trembling hand to turn the Sith around. As she did, Lok asked in a hoarse voice, "Who are--"

The Zabrak's voice cracked as her jaw dropped in shock. Standing before her was an older Thatch, his skin no longer the light caramel color with chocolate tattoos. Instead, his skin had become an angry blend of black and red, the tattoos a perverted version of her brother's. The male Zabrak's eyes blazed a fury-filled yellow. He opened his mouth, perhaps to taunt her--

When his head exploded into a fine mist of blood, flesh, and bone. Most of which landed on Lok.

Horrified, she staggered back from the body of her brother, only it was no longer Thatch but the Sith from the moon, his lifeless meatbag already collapsing to the ground. A pool of blood began to form from the ragged remains of his neck.

Her back hit a solid object, and she whirled around to come face to face with a towering figure hidden in the shadows. It loomed over her, formless and terrifying. The only light coming from it were two piercing, silver lights, like eyes. She crouched down, petrified.

All at once, an excruciating sound burst forth from the creature's mouth. It was a mad cacophony of screeching metal and denizens howling in pain. Despite her efforts to cover her ears and block out the sounds, though, Lok could still hear what the thing was saying.

She awoke with a start, sweat rolling down her back. Her hearts raced inside her, pulsing under her skin. Lok rubbed her face. Clearly she'd been having a nightmare, but waking up had caused all but the faintest tendrils to wither away. With a sigh, she looked at the clock - and then groaned. There was no point in going back to sleep; she'd awoken one minute before her alarm was supposed to go off.

Muttering about how stupid life could be, she rolled out of bed and dressed herself, brushing quickly through her hair before tying it back in a topknot. The rest of the morning flew by, and before she knew it the Zabrak was in the firing range right as the clock hit 0730.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty didn't sleep.

Technically his HRD body was capable of it, but it didn't really need to. In the morning, after it had been thoroughly worked over, repaired, and tuned up, he'd switch back into his droid chassis, but right now, he needed to blow off steam. And so he found himself in the gym, trading blows with a sparring droid.

The droid was programmed with just about every martial arts discipline available to species with bilateral symmetry, and possessed far greater strength and flexibility than most. There was an argument to be made for weaponizing the damn things, but so far, R&D had yet to find a way to do so. Its memory banks were just about full from the various hand to hand disciplines, and any sort of armor would slow it down considerably. On top of that, at its highest settings, it ran through power cells like mad.

It was covered in a tough synthetic skin that mimicked the density of flesh, had "bones" in all the right places, and even joints that could be dislocated. A functioning central nervous system provided pain feedback, and it would faithfully replicate the results of a good punch. It also had scalable difficulty settings, suited to the skill level of the user. A new fighter would still face graceful, fluid blows, but ones that were slowed considerably in order to given them time to react. A skilled fighter could face off against something as strong and as fast as any Jedi or Sith.

Right now, the Shard and the droid were locked in a deadly dance, fists and feet whistling through the air so fast that the eye could hardly follow. Any one blow from either of them would be lethal to a mere mortal, but there was no time here for dying. Strikes were deflected or dodged with seemingly effortless grace while counters lashed out before they ever had a chance to land. Every now and again, a meaty thwack would echo across the gym as a blow landed home, but neither fighter paid them any mind. It was a dizzying display, one that any martial arts master would have given their left nut to witness.

And suddenly, it was over. Power cells exhausted, the sparring droid shut down midkick, and before Rusty could stop himself, he sent it careening into the wall with enough force to shatter its durasteel bones.

"That's the third one this month, Boss," Koko said from the sidelines.

Rusty jumped, startled. He hadn't seen her enter.

"We've got to work on that power problem," he said, frowning. "My HRD can keep that pace up all day."

"Your HRD costs more than most starships and has a power supply best described as 'irresponsibly experimental.' If that thing ever explodes, they'll be measuring the yield in kilotons," the assistant pointed out. "We used the best off the shelf cell we had available."

"Well the shelf needs an upgrade," Rusty muttered.

"Look, the last thing we need right now is to explain to the board why we're funding another one of your pet projects," Koko snapped, nostrils flaring.

And suddenly Rusty knew why she was here.

"The board can stuff it," he replied defiantly. "I pay them, not the other way around."

"I know you don't give a kriff about the board," Koko said, "but what about me?"

Rusty winced.

"You come up with this stuff, bring home strays, ship product to nonpaying customers, and I'm the one who has to deal with the aftermath." She was building up a full head of steam now, and Rusty knew better than to try and stop her. "I'm the one who has to figure out how to make the budget work, or how to explain to the regulatory bodies why we've got military grade hardware just disappearing out of the warehouse while you go gallivanting off to Force knows where. I'm the one that gets to explain away the trails of bodies you leave behind on your little hunting trips, or when you and that shapeshifter decide to tear up a bar. Cleaning up your messes is a full time job in and of itself, nevermind the other crap I have to deal with to keep this business running."

"You're getting paid enough to do it," he fired back.

"The hell I am. All the credits in the galaxy aren't worth waking up to calls at three in the morning to handle whatever pile of crap you decided to throw into the fan that day. And on top of all that, you decide to bring home some little Zabrak girl who's too young to drink in most of the civilized galaxy. If you were an organic I'd say you just wanted to kark her, but you can't even use that as an excuse. Bogon's beard, at least I could explain away a mistress. The kark were you thinking?"

By this point, Koko was standing inches away from her boss, jabbing her finger angrily into his chest for punctuation. She looked mad enough to take a swing at him, but after watching what he did to that sparring bot, she wasn't about to provoke a physical reaction. As pissed off as she was, she still knew better than that, settling for a withering glare instead. Rusty returned it in equal measure, his own temper flaring.

"What was I supposed to do, let her get killed?"

"Yes," Koko snarled. "That's exactly what you were supposed to do. You're not some damned Iron Knight, you're a merchant of death who sells bad things to bad people. You don't give a flying acklay kark what happens to them, so what gives?"

"I don't know, maybe I couldn't watch some poor kid get cut down by a Sith Lord."

"So you bring her home?"

"Look, if I didn't, she'd have just ended up dead the next day, or the day after. Kid's in way over her head, Koko."

"I still don't see how that's your problem," the Shard woman said coldly.

"I don't pay you to see how it's my problem, I pay you to make it work."

"And what if I don't want to?"

"Then leave," he said simply. "We both know you wrote escape clauses into your contract. If it bothers you that much, you know where the door is."

The Shard woman seemed to deflate a little.

"You know I'm not going to do that," she said, breaking eye contact.

Rusty sighed heavily, then sat down on the floor. Even sitting, he was tall enough to looked his assistant in the eye.

"Then why bring it up?"

"I'm tired, Boss. I know this is the best job I've ever had but...I'm tired. Neither of us expected the company to blow up so big. I miss the days of working out of a little shop in the bad part of Breehara."

"Me too," he admitted. "But it's too late now. Things change, and there's no turning back the clock, no matter how much we wish we could."

She nodded, then joined him on the floor. Koko sprawled out, resting her head in his lap. There was an easy sort of intimacy there, a relic of days long gone, back before things had gotten hectic. It wasn't anything romantic, but once upon a time, they had been as close as two beings for whom the mammalian notions of love and affection were alien could be. Their relationship was a lot more adversarial these days, but every now and again, the past leaked into the present.

"So what are we going to do," she asked after several moments of silence.

"Same thing we always do," Rusty replied grimly. "Take things one day at a time and hope it doesn't blow up in our faces."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Rusty was back in his droid chassis.

The firing range was an an underground room. The walls, floors, and ceiling were all cast out of dull grey ferrocrete. Heavy duty ventilation ducts were built into the ceiling to funnel away the fumes, and created a slight breeze in the otherwise still air of the room. The room was about 100 meters long, with 75 meters devoted to the firing lanes. The back of the room was lined with ballistic foam that would soak up the kinetic energy of bullets and the thermal energy from blaster bolts without too much effort, and the wall was slanted downwards so any ricochets would be directed into the sand pit directly underneath. If the wall couldn't stop them, the sand would.

There were five firing lanes, each one marked off by holographic walls that separated them. At the mouth of each one was a sort of booth, with a counter upon which one could rest spare magazines, weapons and the like. What little space wasn't occupied by the firing lanes was empty, save for the plastoid table Rusty had carted into the room. The table was loaded with a variety of weapons of just about any conceivable size and shape.

"Morning," he shouted cheerfully as [member="Lok Maxus"] entered. It was hard not to shout down here. Sound seemed to get soaked up and whisked away into nothingness. Handy feature when dealing with weapons, but not so much for small talk. "First things first: I reckon we need to pick you out a gun. Probably best to try several different ones and see what you find most comfortable. That's the most important part. If you're comfortable with a weapon, you're going to be more effective with it."

 

[Lok Maxus]

[member="Rusty"]

Lok eyed Rusty with a grouchy expression on her face. "What's got you so cheerful?" she snarked back. It was somewhat rude of her to act petulant like this, but she couldn't shake the aftereffects of her nightmare. Fuzzy details kept leaking back, but they were too disjointed to make sense. Ordinarily the Zabrak would've ignored it (after all, nightmares weren't real), but...this one felt different. She couldn't explain why, or what made it so, she just sorta...knew.

Oh, not to mention the fact that Lok was not, is not, and will probably never be a morning person. Just saying.

She walked up to the table, giving the array of armaments a brief glance. Honestly, she wasn't even close to experience shock at the amount of weapons laid before her. Just look at where she was and who she was dealing with. If in a few months Lok wasn't as big a gun nut as the Shard was, well, it'd be nothing short of a miracle. "So I just pick one to shoot. If I like it do I get to keep it or do I have to buy it?" The Zabrak leaned closer to get a better look at the arms.

Short of two seconds, she found one which improved her mood.

A grin sneaking up on her features, Lok's hands reached for an interesting-looking weapon thingy. She didn't know what it was, what it did, or anything else - she just knew that this thing looked like a badass. And the young woman was in the mood for some displays of badassery. (Whether or not it had anything to do with the slight sense of vulnerability left over from her dream was a topic Lok was not interested in exploring at this time.)

"Oooh, what does this thing do? What's it called? Can I shoot it?" Right before she grabbed it, she paused and looked up at Rusty. "Are there any more like it?"