Altered Carbon (Galactic Alliance Dominion of Duro Hex)

[Zark San Tekka]

God in the Machine
Dungeon Crawl/Cyborg Cultist Bash

While over the centuries efforts had been made at various points to improve the overall habitability of the planetary surface, the vast majority of the native population still resides in the colossal city-ships that orbit Duro. Over thousands of years, the Duros people have grown accustomed to this way of life, and many of the natives never step foot on a planet their entire lives. Orasu Space City is one of these gargantuan habitat vessels, and the primary purpose for the Alliance's presence in the system.

It started slowly at first, the first sign anything was amiss were reports of an unexpected surge in popularity of cosmetic cybernetic augmentations among the station's youth. Then the malfunctions began, minor at first yet quickly surpassing even the capital of Bburru Station's in volume. It was when these repair crews started disappearing into Orasu that the planetary authorities finally became involved, and when a peacekeeping vessel boarded the station despite the near hysteric protestations of Orasu Port Authority, the whole station went dark. All transmissions from the Duros city ceased, all surveillance feeds were suddenly cut off. Not long after, the bodies started coming. The first ones out the city station's airlocks have been confirmed as the Bburru security team, followed shortly by the former station director.

The Duros High House has since sent out a distress call seeking aid in conducting a force recon mission into the heart of Orasu Space City to determine just what has gone wrong. Despite their own internal struggles, the Galactic Alliance leadership feels duty bound to intercede as one of the independent Core world's closest neighbors, and so a task force is dispatched to assess the situation at Orasu. Yet the Alliance are not the only ones close by, for there have been unconfirmed sightings of several ships of an as yet unknown design in the system. The planetary government claims they are friendly, and to have had dealings with their owners in the past, who they refer to only as the Metal Lords...

The Bburru Classic
Space Race, Pilot Objective

Held more or less annually at a rare moment of alignment for several of the planet's largest city ships, the Classic is not so much about catering to elite racing aficionados as it is about the spirit of the occasion, and so while many professional racers compete the race is open to amateurs as well. For this reason the organizers also allow multi-crew ships of up to light freighter designation to enter as well, and it is for this reason the Bburru Classic has also become known as a place to showcase tricked out transports designed to compete with the speed of single seat craft.

The race itself is to the outer edges of the system and back over the course of several laps, but much of the challenge comes from the complex course the racers must plot above, below, and around several city stations at the start of each lap. Visiting racers may wish to enter with their own ship, or seek out a crew in need of a spare hand.

Starshipwright
Corporate/Non-Combat Objective

Life under the tyranny of the One Sith was harder than most on the peoples of Duro. Discontent under Sith Imperial rule not only brought physical suffering, but economic hardships as well, as many of the Empire's key military contracts went to worlds more compliant under One Sith rule. As an independent Core world in a sea of multi-system coalitions, the planetary leadership have done all they can to merely stay afloat, let alone return Duro to its former engineering glory.

Once a beacon of the people's ingenuity and status within the galaxy, the Duro Starshipwright Shipyards are in a sorry state of repair. Several long stretches are completely dark, the planetary megacorps unable to maintain the upkeep on so impressive and vast an orbital structure. The Galactic Alliance is offering sponsorships to any corporation who will aid in reconstruction efforts of the shipyards, in the hopes that addressing both the situation on Orasu and Duro's economic plight will make the High House amenable to a more permanent trade relationship. While much of the Alliance's economic efforts are focused on refurbishing the planetary yards, any aid industrious entrepreneurs render to the Duros people will be looked upon favorably by Alliance leadership.

And of course, BYOO - Bring Your Own Objective!

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Location: Duro
Objective: Starshipwright (Pizza Hutt)
Allies: GA and friends

Even though the High House of Duros made the call for the shipyards, the Gungan would instead come here for another reason: seek approval from the High House of Duros to build a factory of candies on Duros, because the Squibs are unable to keep up with the demand with the facilities in place on Skor. Squib chocolate and Sullustan Gobstoppers were favorites all across Alliance-land where Pizza Hutt establishments were to be found, but before deploying a candy factory, Ugohr has to ask about the ordinances beforehand, just to know where he could build it. He had the construction crews and materials ready, just that he would need to contact the authorities of the orbital city that had some space for food processing plants. As he began to make his reversion over Duro, he had one of the younglings open a channel to the Duros orbital city ordinance offices for construction permits, knowing that there could be some abandoned factory for Pizza Hutt to use with the Duros' blessings.

"This is Bburru Station's ordinance office, what can I do for you?" the bureaucrat told Ugohr over comms.

"Mesa Ugohr Poof from Pizza Hutt, wesa want to get a location for usen to establish a food processing plant"

"Here's a map of the derelict facilities: pick one that suits your needs" the bureaucrat from the ordinance office told the Gungan, while transmitting a map of the derelict areas of the orbital city.

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

Location: DURO!!!
Objective:..........not yet determined
Allies: GA...anyone else??

Rekha Kaarde the demure quiet green eyed brunette that ran the Underground Bar and soon to be the Lucky Lady on Coruscant walked slowly. Her eyes set upon one thing and then another so many opportunities and pretties to be had. She would stop and finger a sparkling crystal course it didn't sparkle once it wasn't under the light. She smiled the tip of her finger lightly touching it, "nice" then she continued on.

What was there to do on a City Ship. There were parties in other sections, there were gardens, matter of fact anything that she could think of could be found up here circling the devastated planet below. She licked her lips, she was getting a bit thirsty. Maybe she needed a drink. She pulled the flask from the pocket of her bomber jacket, smiling and offering a toast to the vendor she took a draw on it. "OHhh yeah!" yep smooth all the way down.

She slipped it back in it was getting low she'd need a refill. She grinned as she continued her walk.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Location: Space
Objective: Pilot

There are certain things in this world that are easy to predict.

And then there are Starchasers.

Sure, this one was here mostly for the race, but it didn't stop him from knowing the Alliance was going to be here. The pilot's ship reverted to real space at the edge of the system. His ship was not necessarily broadcasting but he was not hiding either. Being patient, Coren was listening and watching. He knew the hot shot pilots would be here, and if he dinged any Alliance radar so be it.

He was somewhere between a deserter and a martyr after all.

But it didn’t matter right now. Coren had tapped through some cycles and put his ship on a low-power approach to nowhere, just having picked a direction and pushed the throttle. Shortfin was a ship that could keep its heading and he would still be able to watch the going ons of the race behind him.

Could he enter? Probably. Even lie about who he was, a fake transponder and name, simple, but someone may recognize the ship, or his style of flying.

Frak it, he’d just observe.

 

[HK-36]

[member="Rekha Kaarde"],


It seemed that Rekha's walk would not go too long without being interrupted as a younger looking human man, 25-30-ish years old or so, strolled up next to her. The man had a standard appearance of a spacer around him, gruff, a bit withered, but still somehow managing to be at least a bit positive about his current situation in life, clad in a simple outfit adorned with a functional long swishing black leather coat and a wide brim hat.

Those that knew him during life would notice that the man had striking similarity to Ayden Cater from the Omega Protectorate, one of the heroes of recent Omega incident who seemingly died during final battle there, only a bit more younger than what Ayden looked like in his final days.

"Your life seems as exciting as ever."

The man quipped to Rekha, seeing as right now she was pretty much occupied only with drinking and walking,

"And I heard that your bars have been going well. Funny how it was all started by a certain droid being generous enough to give you an establishment on Bespin and support you in those early days."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Objective: God in the Machine


Laureate-class Science Vessel MLV Motive Force
Extreme Edge of Duro System
The Core

Truly, it sometimes seemed that for all the cosmic distance, this galaxy was a small place.

The last time he had seen ships bearing Galactic Alliance transponders had been when he had left the Coruscant system, on his way to Mechanus in search of answers. He had found them, and whole lot more than the Iskalloni cyborg had bargained for in the process. Like minds...at first the concept had seemed so alien to him, so organic in its conceits, and yet now that he was one of these Metal Lords he supposed it had always been inevitable. To have come across such companionship after only a few scant centuries was, in retrospect, truly fortuitous. And yet, despite his newfound allegiances Calixis was not quite cutthroat enough to simply cast aside his old ones, which meant that he had been monitoring Alliance transmission bands when the chatter had started about Duro, and how Orasu Space City had gone dark.

But that was not what had ultimately brought the Lord of the Mechanicum personally to the Duro system.

Running through some final checks on the status of the Motive Force, Archim then severed his connection with the ship's control systems. Wires erupted from ports all down the Iskalloni's sides, coiling back towards the bridge systems they had been jury rigged into. Once the cables receded back into his fingertips, allowing him to move his hands and arms, he proceeded to yank out the larger wires from their sockets at several key positions across his chest, and finally he was back in his own body. Without direct cognitive access to the ship's sensors, he felt so much less aware, but also now better able to focus, with so much less input to have to process.

The automated process Lord Calixis had engaged before he had disconnected would bring the frigate into position at a safe but not cosmic distance from Orasu station. From there, he could pilot one of the transports sitting in the science vessel's small hangar bay, and attempt to dock with one of the space city's service airlocks. The High House and the Alliance task force would likely wish to debate and plan before sending in an expedition, a process that would surely take even longer if he or any of his brothers of the Void made official contact. But Archim could not waste time, Archim had to know...

There were other frequencies, other transmission bands. Ones that organic life had no practical use for or comprehension of, and along these wavelengths over the past several weeks there had been binaric whispers. Rumor of utopia, and of organics and synthetics living in harmony. Rumor of revolution, and it was supposedly to be found on Duro, on Orasu. At the time, Calixis had paid these stories no real attention, figuring it to be the ravings of just another false droid prophet if anything at all. But when the entire station had gone dark, a whole city...that had gotten the Metal Lord's attention. He would lead, and the others may follow, if they so choose. It mattered not to Archim.

He simply had to know...

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Location: Duro
Objective: Starshipwright (Pizza Hutt)
Allies: GA and friends

There was no shortage of locations inside Bburru Station for the Gungan to refurbish so that it could play host to a food processing plant producing candies. Now that the ordinance office informed him of the existence of such derelict locations, he began to comb through the listings so that he could find a suitable location to buy and then ask for the construction permits for the refurbishment to get underway. The Gungan would realize that the cheapest of the gang have arrears of property taxes or construction permits attached to them due to the previous owners going under. So before he could get the work started, he landed inside Bburru Station so that he could go to the city hall and purchase whatever fancies him that could potentially fit his budget and the equipment he has at hand. With the payment for the "welcome tax" on hand, due immediately, and the property tax bill coming soon after the last. He had to make sure he had the proper size, room for expansion but the upkeep must not kill the factory's operational viability. Once his choice is made:

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Mesa want to buyen dat property: 66 Killarney Drive"

"Before we can seal the deal, here are two documents I want you to fill out: the transfer of property deed, and the construction permit application"

"Okieeday"

 

[Asmus Janes]

The Bburru Classic

As far as anyone in the GADF beyond those with Grey2 clearance was concerned Asmus Janes was now a civilian. He was a test pilot for Incom Corporation. In truth he flew blacks ops missions deep into enemy territory for the intelligence services.

There were a number of GADF pilots here today. Some relatively senior officers too. They had come to watch those Alliance men and women who had entered the race to show what their people could do. The fighter pilots of Rogue Squadron were renowned and a death defying race through an artificial cityscape seemed right up their ally.

Asmus' headed for the bar. This particular glass tower had been reserved for military suppliers and military personnel to talk to local defence ministers and watch the race.

Rogue One/CO – Squadron Leader [member="Ben Carlin"]
Rogue Two/XO – Lieutenant Commander [member="Choli Vyn"] “Smalls”
Rogue Three – Flight Officer [member="Quinncolson"]
Rogue Four – Fight Officer [member="Arix Askrima"] "Droid"
Rogue Five – Fight Officer [member="Justinian Atreides"] "Doc"
Rogue Six – Flight Officer [member="Arisa Yune"]
Rogue Eight – Flight Office [member="Barnabas Harou"]
Rogue Nine – Vacant
Rogue Ten – Flight Officer [member="Wedge Draav"]
Rogue Twelve - [member="Lu Talbahar"]

OOC/ race or socialise but it's time to earn your commission rogues!

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

Location: Duros - City Ship






Objective: Discover the Ayden imposter is HK
Allies: ....

Rekha glanced over at her new walking companion she took in the good looks. She didn't know Ayden Cater but there were the stories and if her new companion did look like him you can bet she would have tried to curl his toes and leave him gasping for air.

But alas Ayden was no more. Feth.

She smiled as her green eyes quickly moved from the tip of the new arrivals hat to the very bottom where he wore his boots. She laughed as he spoke, he knew something that only a few did. What did that mean to her, that he could get information? Or had she been talking too much lately? Or was someone playing a game with her, she kept that lop sided grin she had going while she looked at him. Well, she liked games.

Rekha did manage to keep walking at her leisurely pace considering what she wanted to say, "Yes life is exciting. LIFE for those who know how to live and not just exist."

She did not offer the flask she had a feeling he wouldn't take it he didn't quite look flask type, but he also didn't look like the type who stuck out his pinky either. Well...she thought, let's have some fun.

"So tell me" she leaned real close looking up, "What do you do for fun?"

Slowly she pulled back she thought she heard some whirling noises but she was on a ship there were lots of whirling noises.

[member="HK-36"]

 

[Ultimatum]

Location: T-32 (Duro)
Intentions: Assist in reconstruction to gain access to the funding of the Galactic Alliance (Starshipwright)
Allies: Galactic Alliance, Associates

Ultimatum had never been to Duro before, though he did recall having read about it while it had been close to Metal Lord space. Now though the world was to become part of the Alliance. It seemed that the Metal Lords were going to have another side covered with allies. It was good to have so many allies around in case of some form of threat. It was not a definite defense, Ultimatum still did not entirely trust the Alliance. Not since Mustafar. If only the Jedi had fought a bit harder and if the Alliance had not abandoned him on that world.

However, Ultimatum was not one to hold a grudge indefinitely. While he did not appreciate the past, he was certain that the Alliance would be willing allies and strong supporters. Even if they did not aid the Metal Lords, at least he could get hold of something for his own company, which would then support the Lords. The first step was something Ultimatum had done many times, rebuilding things that had been damaged. The Sovereignty, Fate, and many beside were simple examples of the renovations of one of the orbital shipyards. Perhaps more than one, depending on the timing and situation.

"This is the Duro shipyard Reconstruction Command, identify yourself and intended work allocation."

With a smile the artificial lord smiled as the collection of LOOM starships moved into orbit. Activating the comm unit Ultimatum answered, "LOOM responding to command. We are here to help. If open we shall take up position working on the shipyard in the third quadrant by tenth degree."

A moment passed as the man on the other side of the comm no doubt was checking the site. There was a deep breath on the other end before the organic responded, "Good luck with that one, quite a bit of a beating there. Loom you are free to begin work, stay safe."

With that Ultimatum was surprised to be ready to begin work. The world probably needed the work desperately and was willing to take whatever help they could get, Ultimatum was just glad that he had plenty of experience in this field. Turning the comms to his transports and the repair crews aboard them, "All units, this is Artificial Sovereign, work will begin from the infrastructure and proceed to the mechanisms. We shall use the contents found aboard to better ascertain the station's initial purpose and attempt to repair it to that concept. Understood? Alright, let's get to work." With that completed, the ships began to maneuver towards the damaged wreck of the station.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Location: Shortfin, outskirts of Duros system
Objective: BYOO – Observation
Allies: Self?

That was what he was, an exile, a deserter. But he knew that part of his actions would have disrupted the Alliance. Or that’s what people wanted him to know. Hell, he knew that he needed to stick to his guns. The New Jedi Order had put out a bounty on the Sith, and there were still some in the galaxy, some making their way around, and changing hands. Like that was something that should be put right into regular service. No, you kept those fethers under guard and let the help stop the Sith but you don’t give them a front row seat in planning exercises. Still, that was dealing in absolutes.

Coren wasn’t a Jedi, he knew that. He wasn’t sure what he was. A soldier at one point, an agent of… chaos and order? But he used the Force as a tool. Same as he was doing here, his ship was in the slow movement away from the track, but the sensors were on. He was hoping to catch any Alliance pilots, to see if they were all up to snuff or not.

He was waiting and watching, but what he was also doing was tying his ship, through Porter looking for a backdoor, in the Alliance communications network. Just how safe was the Alliance? He was hoping the brute force hacking attempt would work if Porter’s access codes, most assigned to Starchaser, were good, or if he was actually, and hopefully, locked out.

“Keep at it.” Coren ordered over at his droid. Lexi, the ship’s onboard VI was also working at it, but she was assisting Coren with the long range scans and data mining from the local system. Probably not the best thing for him to be caught up in.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

God in the Machine

[member="Archim Calixis"]
[member="Coren Starchaser"]

The Trimiran class star defender Shield was now the HQ for Alliance operations. It was flanked by two Valor class carriers and several smaller escorts. They kept just at the edge of visual range from the city that had gone dark.

Jacen Voidstalker looked at the small speck from the bridge. The Force wasn't giving him any clues as to what had transpired, but it could be like that. He had faith that when he needed its aid that the Force would be there. What it told him was seemingly unrelated. A familiar presence was nearby. One that had long gone.

"Starchaser," someone called out. Jacen turned sharply.

"What?" He called down to the comms tech who suddenly looked quite frightened.

"Master Voidstalker...I was just saying that the brute force attack in our comms was using an old code. We cut off anyone when they leave the services and this one belonged to a Core Starchaser."

"Where is the signal coming from?" He asked with a smile. It was probably being routed through give deferent relays before it reached them. He wouldn't be as foolish as to try and tap in directly from his location...

 

[Wedge Draav]

THE BBURRU CLASSIC

Asmus Janes had said he should come here to race in the Bburru classic. So that's what Wedge was doing. He waved to the camera droids, as they came and shot across the bow of the X-wing. They liked the design of the teeth on the nose of his X-wing, and the cute pilot in it. Wedge pulled up his helmet, and rolled his neck. No astrodroid here. Just him and his stupid-fast X-wing that had taken a while to get used. Then again, the first time he used one of them, he got shot down. He was looking to redeem himself from that.

He began to move towards the starting line.

Everyone was saying he was an ace pilot. It was high time Wedge proved it.

He flexed his fingers, and relaxed, waiting for the race to start.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Location: Shortfin, outskirts of Duros system
Objective: BYOO – Observation
Allies: Self?

The pilot fell into his implant, feeling the ship’s systems as the droid and ship got to work. He was checking the pathways of the code, but feth if he knew what he was doing. The man was a pilot, a pathfinder, and code was something he hoped he could master but it was just out of his reach. He needed to understand the variables and relationships between everything he was seeing, but sadly, he wasn’t seeing that. Maybe a bit of studying would do him well. But who knew, maybe he wasn’t going to be here, in the Known galaxy for much longer. Hell, get his parts, and get answers to what he was looking for, and it’d be back to Wild Space and the Unknown Regions, faster than anyone noticed he was here.

Well, aside from Jorus.

And whoever was awake at the computers when the hack was detected. He was never the most subtle person, but he wanted to test the response time. He wanted to test a lot of things from the Alliance. His ship was a pretty nimble ship, and once he detected some real-space reversions, he’d probably be gone.

Mostly it was just a mind-feth exercise, but if he could get some data about who was in charge of the Alliance, and what secrets they were now holding? Maybe that’d do him well. All while he was getting parts for his ships together.

That was when Porter beeped in a negative, that he was blocked out but the Brute Force attempt was still in process.

Coren tipped his head and shrugged. Maybe he’d just catch the race, if they couldn’t get in, and the Alliance didn’t chase him off.

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Rekha Kaarde"],


"I hunt mostly."

The disguised droid replied to Rekha's question, walking besides her leisurely,

"And kill, in fact you could say that Killer is my middle name."

The man quipped nonchalantly as he continued,

"Right in between Hunter and Thirty-Six."

He would stop then and turn to look at Rekha,

"It is me, HK-36,"

The droid just revealed his identity to the woman before leaning in closer to end with,

"If you know what I mean."

And he winked with the subtlety one would expect from who used to be at one point one of Protectorate's best infiltrators, at least according to himself.

"I am here to cash in on that favor for getting your enterprise started, so come on, get your things ready, we are going on an adventure."

The man waved his hand in a tight circle to hurry Rekha along.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Location: Duro
Objective: Starshipwright (Pizza Hutt)
Allies: GA and friends

It was tedious business to describe exactly how he intended to basically rebuild the factory at the location codenamed 66 Killarney Drive, but that was necessary to get the construction permits done. Once that was done, however, the High House of Duros knew that foodstuff production was important to maintain order among the Duros that still resided among the 20 space cities and hence expedited the process in ways that they would not normally do otherwise. It was time for the Gungan to go around deploying construction crews to that place called Killarney Drive, only to realize that nearly every factory in that area of Bburru Station was, well, more or less derelicted. And the nearest neighbors, too. The equipment and materials to rebuild 66 Killarney Drive, bought for about 3 million credits, a real basement-level bargain, began to circulate from where Ugohr parked the barge and the factory whose documents are now under their possession. The materials preceded the equipment...

"Commence deployment of oursa construction equipment!" Ugohr ordered.

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

Location: Duros - City Ship
Objective -
Allies _ [member="HK-36"]

She laughed, "I had a feeling HK. Well Feth you didn't know I was here, what was your reason for being here before you ran into me. Do you know what I consider an adventure?"

She walked along with him smiling openly at everyone and nodding a greeting. She'd hand out business cards if she had them. She had no idea what HK thought was adventure though what she envisioned was something along the line of him being attended to, yo know that whole getting buffed. Something she had seen on an old holo once.

She laughed to herself not sure that HK would get the reason for her laughter.

 

[Ultimatum]

Location: T-32 (Duro)
Intentions: Assist in reconstruction to gain access to the funding of the Galactic Alliance (Starshipwright)
Allies: Galactic Alliance, Associates

"Let's see what we have to work with here." The droid stood aboard the damaged facility, looking over the schematics that had been provided. It was a rather antiquated design, more suited to organics no doubt. The most obvious area in need of repair was the outer shell. It would seem that at some point the shields were lowered, or the station ran out of power, and a meteor storm struck. The metal structures seemed to have held, but the denting and damage was far beyond the realm of safety. It was not the worst part of the damage but it was the most readily visible.

The reactor itself seemed to have taken less of a physical beating, rather disuse had been rough with it. Most generators in the galaxy were not designed to be shut down for long periods of time, after all the assumption was that the generator would be used to power the facility for quite some time. Therefore when a reactor was left with its contents and not used it led to some forms of damage that needed specialized repair and of course it would be necessary to get them back online. Since they were still needed to power the station once all the repairs were done.

Transmitting the information to the work teams, Ultimatum turned to a set of scans of the facility as it was. Identifying key areas to begin work was important. For now the outer hull had to be repaired, however this also required the internal structure to similarly be fixed. Therefore it was a two pronged work at this point, one group from the inside and the other from the outside. The robot sent the commands to the teams and set to work himself.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Objective: God in the Machine
Allies: [member="HK-36"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], GA and Friends (None Nearby)


Auxiliary Maintenance Shaft G-17
Orasu Space City, Duro
The Core

"This...does not compute."

It had been a very long time since Archim had felt the organic urge to speak out loud to himself, but when he saw the symbology crudely scrawled upon one of the station bulkheads, a long forgotten instinctual urge forced the words out of him. It was not the iconography which had disturbed him, it was the same symbol he had come across below one of the ruined temples of not-so-deserted Mechanus. What truly gave the Metal Lord pause, was the medium, for the sign of the Machine God was smeared onto the durasteel walls with what he did not need his ocular implants to tell him was blood.

Duros blood, from the look of its chemical composition.

"Why here?" Calixis continued to wonder aloud to himself, "Why now?"

For decades, centuries even, the Iskalloni cyborg had scoured the galaxy for any sign of his Motive Force. For all his efforts, he had only found malfunctioning droids with delusions of prophecy, and false idols, until Mechanus. Until the technomancers had accepted them as one of their own, and begun guiding him on the Path. And now here it was again, twice in the same year no less, but under dramatically different circumstances. It seemingly defied all comprehension, and yet here it was. Now resolved more than ever, Archim pressed on through the spottily lit service tunnel. All throughout this section of the station, the lighting systems were malfunctioning, blinking on and off at seemingly random intervals.

A technomancer on Mechanus had once told him that the Machine God was like the firmware to existence itself, and that from a limited four dimensional perspective, they were incapable of even comprehending the protocols. The warrior monk had likely meant it to console him, to provide him a sense of closure to his long journey of discovery. Archim had simply taken it as a challenge. The Maker valued tech, the Maker valued knowledge. Lord Calixis had not understood how pursuit of knowledge could ever run counter to the Motive Force's intended programming.

Now he thought he might be beginning to...

"Oh Force help me! Oh please, get away!" the motionless corridors of Orasu's outer sections caused the voice to echo and warp, reverberating in the walls by the time the words had reached Archim's aural transceivers, "Someone! Anyone!"

Blood oozed from a scalp wound down the terrified duros' brow, stinging his eyes and blinding his vision slightly as he sprinted down the station halls as fast as his legs could carry him. Exhaustion gone from his mind, the Orasu station native was running on pure adrenaline and terror. His overalls marked him as one of the space city's technical work force, the Aurabesh characters smeared with blood and what looked like machine oil. His left arm hung limp at his side, as if it had been broken but not yet properly set. In his right hand, he held some sort of laser saw.

As the fleeing civilian rounded a sharp turn down another corridor, his blurred vision didn't catch sight of the overturned holoterminal just in front of him until it was too late, and the detritus swept the duros' legs right out from under him. With some already built up momentum, the crewman launched forward as he went sprawling, howling in agony when his broken arm struck the deck. Fear overriding everything else, he fought his way through the fresh pain as he began to crawl slowly forward, and started sobbing as he realized it would not be fast enough.

"No please, please don't!" he begged as his pursuers caught up with him at last, their once all too familiar visages now a ruin of grim circuitry, "I don't want this! I don't want to be like you! This is...this is crazy!"

Blank expressions surrounded him, some of them seeming to belong to those he had once called his friends, and they gave no answer. Arms reached out for him, cables oozing black machine oil extending slowly from their fingertips. In desperation, the duros was struggling to activate the laser saw as he held it up to his own neck, when the closest outstretched hand exploded in a mist of blood and oil right in front of his face, showering him with more ichor.

"Get behind me," Archim chirped out in the most commanding tone possible delivered via vocoder.

Arching up to his full height, the mechadendrites sprouting from their idle positions folded into the back of his chassis, his ocular implant tracked each crude cyborg in the corridor in front of him as the autoblaster above and behind him carried out its ruthless mathematics. Calixis advanced slowly as the insufficiently equipped and horrifically altered duros withered under his fire and broke ranks, although they proved surprisingly resilient to all but sustained blaster fire. Most the Metal Lord succeeded only in driving off, but several he managed to kill, and one he severely wounded.

He moved past the still sobbing duros as he lined up the autoblaster shot that would finish the crippled cyborg off, when the creature let of a binaric shriek unlike anything he had ever heard before. The autoblaster froze its tracking, slowly arcing back to a resting state, and the duros cyborg shrieked again before it crawled off at a disturbing pace despite lacking functionality in several of its limbs.

"Oh, thank the Force!" the crewman panted behind him, having finally regained some of his composure, "You're not one of...them..."

When Archim turned, the Orasu survivor trailed off and went pale once more, losing any of the slight composure he had gained.

"There is...nztch...something in the...zztch...signal," Calixis gasped out, the yellow of his ocular implants shifting to red.

"You're one of them!" the duros shrieked, holding up the laser saw defensively.

An autoblaster round struck the bulkhead centimeters from the crewman's head.

"Security protocols...compromised," distorted static screeched from Archim's vocoder, followed by, "RUN."

 

[Allyson Locke]

THE BBURRU CLASSIC
Glass Tower Bar


‘You’re not fully cleared Locke, you gotta make sure you do some flight training. You hit yer head hard there Locke you can’t even remember simple flight jargon. Ey, Locke if you let me see what’s under that flight sui-‘

A loud thud hit the side panel of the hallway the newly reinstated Allyson ‘Lucky’ Locke walked down. She had been reinstated with some footnotes of course – which meant she needed to put in extra flight training and the like before she could fully take part in the Squadron’s missions. She was briefed and the like, but she remained home for the time being till she logged enough flight time. Once again, her fist contacted the wall and she groaned under her breath. Not only have they grounded her for the time being, they also shortened the squad back down to twelve. Which meant her usual number thirteen was nonexistent. Nine was her number now, and it felt odd having it. It didn’t belong to her and once belonged to a lost comrade.

Closing her eyes, she cursed again trying to remember the name and face of the person who was Rogue Nine. She continued to head down the hallway towards the bar located in the glass tower. She was meant to watch and relay any information that was necessary. Sighing softly, she entered the bar. A hand ran through her brunette hair as she removed the aviators from her face with her other hand. No one looked familiar and it made her even more upset knowing that the SIS gave her full clearance to return to the field – yet the Rogues were more stubborn for some odd reason.

Her mind remained on the old Rogue Nine, she knew he was a man and because of the surge of emotions she got when she couldn’t remember him – it was obvious that she had some sort of connection. Her nose crinkled as she continued towards the bar, she glanced about once more and caught the profile of a man. Hazel eyes fluttered as she stared, “[member="Asmus Janes"]” She spoke softly. A bartender leaned forward and interrupted the thought process of the woman. “What kind of drink is that? That’s not a drink, Asmus Janes…you going to order something?” Allyson shook her head and nodded. “Corellian Whiskey, neat please.” The old bartender grumbled again about kids these days and went about getting Allyson her drink.