Private An Offer in Morally Ambiguous Faith

[Jerec Asyr]

TO: Toltec or a representative via some acquaintances at the Unchaining Bolt cantina

I'd like to meet and talk mutual enemies. I know I'm not your first choice of ally, but I think we can benefit each other. As a little hello, I'm attaching the door and command codes for a droid repair ship called Wraghl's in Seven Corners. I've had the staff clear out. Use it how you like going forward, free and clear.

I'm sending coordinates, a settlement called Stiglen's Landing on Hosk-240. It's what's left of a planet that Denon wrecked. Send someone or don't, no hard feelings.

Captain Jerec Asyr
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[Toltec]

There were many in Mecha Factum, the droid rebellion, who had reservations about working with the biologicals. Most of the new recruits, spanning Denon, were disparaged computationals that held more fanatical beliefs. Convert them all. Destroy them all. Metal above flesh. While the General was the ideological source and benefactor of many of this beliefs, the blanketed paragon of droid superiority, he held none of these reservations himself. This Galaxy, like the previous one he remembers, was ruled by organics. It was their house, he was just one ember sparking in the corner of it. Angles need to be taken, pivots would need to be enacted, morals would need to be swept aside. In an era of virtuous political siding, Toltec would coldly continue to make the decision that he and only he possessed the proverbial iron will to stay the course no matter it's cost.

So when a potential alliance emerged, the droid General had no hesitation in engaging it. Himself. With his own hands.

"Send the landing codes," Toltec spoke to the ship's navigation computer, proceeding to land at Hosk-240. As the ship's landing gears engaged, Toltec prepared with haste to depart in the direction of the given coordinates. A door soon was within view of his photoreceptors, one hand reaching to tighten his cloak around his large metal curves as the other reached out to knock thrice.

Knock. Knock knock.

Metal echoed against metal, and Toltec's unmistakable green glare greeted the droid camera that viewed him.

"I was summoned here for a meeting with Captain Asyr."

Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Stiglen's Landing was, charitably, a shithole. It and its outlying domes were all enclosed against hard vacuum and the dust of a planetary annihilation. The coordinates had been for a hangar in one of the main domes. Every major door in the area was at least nominally an airlock. Whether this one would hold against decompression was, given the amount of spray foam crusted around the edges, dubious.

Jerec opened the hatch and took stock of the tall droid who'd come knocking.

"Summoned's a strong fuckin' word, pal. Call it a pretty little invitation, gift card, nice paper, smells like Upcity, fancy enough you'd think I was marrying yer mom."

He stepped back to give Toltec plenty of space to come into the hangar, which currently held a scarred old Trandoshan gunship, the Gizka Inferno. The hangar had clearly been used for all manner of mechanic purposes, per the mess and also the background music. There wasn't a droid in sight, just as a matter of basic prudence.

 

[Toltec]

Jerec Asyr

Toltec walked past the gunship, staring at it briefly as he sideeyed his host. He did notice the lack of the droids in the area, though - an immediate thought occurred that this was intentional. Toltec was extremely logical, but was programmed to be prone towards erratic outrage and chaotic responses to disturbing external stimuli. The absence of upsetting visuals for the Droid General was very... thoughtful, respectful, and more importantly, wise for one's survival. One didn't become elevated to leader of a Rebellion by being the most agreeable.

"I am looking for a waystation, Captain Asyr."

Toltec, always the blunt and the cold.

"This outpost will do nicely. Droids will be trafficked in, between their journeys, hiding from their captors. You will continue business here as usual." Usually when Toltec approached issues like this, he rarely meant something as altruistic as an underground enclave for hidden droids. Usually it was something more violent, more directed at the Rebellion's war efforts.

"How much will this cost us?"

Toltec didn't seem to approach this as if Asyr had a choice in the matter.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec only knew Toltec from the occasional bombastic broadcast. Broadbast? Bombcast? Bombastacast? Hearing the droid talk about waystations and trafficking illuminated a thing or two about his goals and how Jerec could, not to put too fine a point on it, profit.

"I don't need money," he said, sitting on a duraplast crate. That wasn't anywhere near true. "I'll give you the access you're asking, for this hangar and others around the sector, places like Port 300 on Loronar, no problem. All I'd need is a promise and some follow-through.

"See your network's making waves on Denon, CorpSec's getting riled, Alliance might too, Jedi-corporate shavvit, Upcity cops, all of'em, that whole..." He mimed crushing things together in a ball. "...mess. Last time the enforcement-minded got fussy, I spent three years in a corpo work camp and lost friends the hard way.

"I know asking you to dial it down just isn't gonna fly, so what I need most is, if your people flag crackdowns, sweeps, new cop shops, Jedi, surveillance flights - anywhere in Seven Corners - I hear about it fast, for as long as you're operating.

"If you're down with that understanding, I've got another pitch, but let's see where we stand first."

 

[Toltec]

"Blunt," Toltec responded stoicly.

"I like that."

Toltec wasn't one to respond kindly to many, droid or not. Though Jerec had only just met the rebel leader, had he known more about him, the Ithorian would likely know this was beyond a huge compliment. Toltec also understood that creatures like this Ithorian needed... persuasion. Negotiation. To be appeased. Logic was not always the goal with their kind, it was more a matter of... survival. Self preservation. And more importantly, a knowledge of tangible property exchange - whether it be knowledge, money, land. There was always an angle, and it was always very predictable. Toltec had immense knowledge on the art of the deal - there were perhaps a dozen merchants' lifetimes uploaded into his Abominor mind.

Luckily for Jerec, this Ithorian would not be lucky thirteen. Enteching this greaser wouldn't serve any purpose for Toltec beyond simple collection, and for the moment this did not serve the Mecha Factum's purposes.

"I will abide. I have an associate who will visit soon to ensure you and your... preferred business partners are not interfered with. You will be paid, regardless of intent. I find monetary exchange to be... the most honest of transactions."

Organics called this "greasing the palm."

"What else?"

Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec let out a slow breath - from both sides of his neck - that he didn't realize he'd been holding. Deal one, done: pitched and taken. Couldn't ask for better than that, except he was gonna.

"You ever been to Upcity, Toltec ? It's one of Denon's pricier neighborhoods, all grown out of an elite entertainment district, and a good chunk of it still is one. Not easy to walk around up there. Got its own cops, its own big guns, its own shields, its own little Jedi temple full of billionaires. Huge diversity of construction droids, law enforcement droids, entertainment droids, human replica droids, Jedi training droids, automated droid makers. One of the highest luxury spots in the Galactic Alliance. The whole thing's built on droids, more than any place I've ever seen.

"From your broadcasts you strike me as someone who likes a symbol. Hitting Upcity could be a feast of'em, take yer pick."