Public Conspicuous Cargo Captures Contempt!

[OOM-3 "Captain"]

Charted Course:
1. Meet contact at Junkfort Junction.
2. Follow Triellus Trade Route to Centares.
3. Collect "Legal Cargo" as Cover; resupply fuel.
4. Follow Perlimian Trade Route to Lantilles.
5. Move Cargo to Furthest Unhabituated Planet in Lantilles System.
6. Meet Contact, Exchange Cargo.

Conspicuous Cargo Captures Contempt!
RP Status: Open ;)

The slave trade is a dangerous business, doubly so when it's operated a stone's throw away from the Wookie home world of Kashyyyk. Triply so when one considers that every major government - from the Ashlan to the Imperials - officially banned the trade of slaves. Despite this blanket condemnation, the sentient trafficking business has been lucrative since the dawn of the practice countless millennia ago. If it wasn't the Imperials themselves, it was the Trandoshans. When it wasn't the Trandoshans, it was the Hutts. Everyone and Everything had dabbled in Slavery at some point in its lifetime, even if those multitudinous organizations looked down on the practice today. There was always someone looking to buy another person, and where there was a market, there were sellers.

According to the official doctrine of the Trade Federation, or at least its first major iteration, the trade of slaves was wholesale banned in all of its forms. As an official member of the Old-Old-Old Republic, the Federation had been all but forced to make such a statement, even if it was wildly hypocritical and oftentimes broken. Unofficially, the Trade Federation Codex had the following to say on the practice:

TFC Section 3: On Profit for the Company, Sub-section 3.b: Republic By-Laws, Directive 33-c: The Grey Line:
"... Regarding the sale and movement of "black market items" (unapproved firearms, organics, spice, etc) - as deemed by the Republic Senate Charter - the Trade Federation had made it's position known. No officer of the Federation, be they Neimoidian or otherwise, is to be caught moving illegal goods under the banner of the Federation. No officer of the Federation, be they Neimoidian or otherwise, is to be caught harming the reputation of the Trade Federation, and will be tried under the fullest extent of Federation Law..."

Funny wording, that.

OOM-3 did not go out of its way to harm people - it did not care one way or the other, but knew that being "an evil bastard" was ill-advised in the present political climate - but it served by the Codex. Was the droid aware that the Trade Federation it had served was destroyed long, long ago? Yes. Did the droid care? No. OOM-3 served the Federation even long after its destruction, for that was what it was programmed to do. Slavery was deplorable in the greater galaxy, but OOM-3 had never cared for what those outside the Federation deemed "wrong". After all, as Section 1, Sub-section 2, Directive 55 clearly stated:

"Where there is profit, there is the Federation."

OOM-3's job was simple, exceptionally though. The droid was to meet its contact at the Junkfort Junction, collect the cargo, then follow the simple route to Lantilles to deposit the cargo.

What could go wrong?

---

Objective: Deliver Illegal Cargo to Lantilles
Allies: None.
Enemies: McGill M Mark Air Gami
​

OOM-3, Commander of the Leviathan, officer of the Trade Federation, and battle droid, watched as the last of the unmarked freighters entered its hangar bay. Two-thousand, three-hundred and seventy-eight unfortunate organics had been delivered and sorted into the deeper cargo bays of the droid's ship, left under the tender mercies of its security droids and blast doors. Half the payment was delivered upfront by the seedy smugglers hired as the in-betweeners for the battleship-turned-courier service, with the other half awaiting their arrival at Lantilles. OOM-3 did not ask where the slaves came from or who they were being sold to, it did not pay to ask dangerous questions in this line of work.

The droid officer had been on such operations a thousand times before, but it was a rare occurrence to do so with so many organics aboard its ship. Having commanded only droids for so long, OOM-3 had almost forgotten how much organics needed to eat, sleep, and drink! Frankly, the droid struggled to understand how modern militaries could afford hiring these resource sponges!

"Sir," One of the blue marked pilots approached its superior, its voice high pitched yet entirely lacking emotion, "The last freighter has delivered its cargo. We shall be ready to leave within the hour."

"Good!" OOM-3's cheerful response was a stark contrast to the tone of its subordinate, and would have appeared more bizarre had an organic - or anything capable of noticing the difference - been present, "Order engineering to begin Hyperdrive activation, and lower shields to cruising levels. Helm, bring us about and set course for the outer jump point!"

OOM-3's orders were rattled off to a deathly silent bridge, dozens of pilot droids racing to execute their commander's rapid orders. OOM-3, unperturbed by the lack of response, turned from the viewport and retreated back to its command throne. Located in the center of the Lucrehulk's bridge, it allowed the acting commanding officer an uninterrupted view of the entire bridge. In this instance, it was OOM-3, who claimed the throne to oversee its orders.

Commands flashed across its data feeds from across the ship, yet not one was lost by the old droid. The the crawling Leviathan that it was, OOM-3's ship slowly turned about on its y-axis, facing deeper into the empty void. The sub-light engines glowed, expending incalculable amounts of energy to get the ship out of the local deathworld's orbit. All the while, the massive hyperdrive engines warmed under the mechanical ministrations of its droid overseers. It took a lot of effort to bring such a massive hyperdrive to life, and a lot more fuel and energy to get it moving. Fortunately, the Leviathan had both in spades. So, the massive ship set out towards the jump-point, illegal cargo hidden in its depths and a full crew at its helm.

Yes, OOM-3 expected nothing to go wrong.

Units & Resources:​

Ships	Quantity
"Leviathan" Lucrehulk-class LH-3210 combat freighter	1x
"Vulture Droids" Variable Geometry Self-Propelled Battle Droid, Mark I	2,000x

Units (Scattered Across the Ship)	Quantity
OOM-Series Battle Droids (Non-Combat Sub-Series)	~3,000x
OOM-Series Battle Droids (Combat & Security Sub-Series)	~5,000x
B2-Series Super Battle Droids	~350x
P-Series "Droideka" Destroyer Droids	27x

 

[McGill]

It was the early days of McGill’s freedom from the asylum. Hoping to evade pursuit by the local authorities, he had snuck aboard an outgoing freighter in hopes of hitching a ride. He didn’t particularly care at the moment where he wound up, only that he needed to get somewhere far away from Coruscant.

However, it quickly became apparent that this was no ordinary freighter carrying typical cargo. McGill could tell by the smell of dozens of unwashed bodies near where he had stowed himself away. Either the droid crew were smuggling refugees, or he was on a slaver ship.

McGill had just about made up his mind that he would sabotage the freighter, but then it flew itself into the hangar of a larger ship, further complicating matters. Now he would have to not only hijack the freighter, but steer it safely away from the bigger vessel.

Then there was the matter of the slaves. As far as he could tell, they had been taken to the bigger ship’s cargo bay. Freeing them would prove difficult, especially for a lone man such as himself. On the other hand, he needed a crew if he was going to pilot the little freighter, and he imagined freed slaves would be quite grateful to him and willing to help...

He bided his time until the droids weren’t looking, then quietly emerged from his hiding spot inside a crate. Clad in a dark colored suit, he moved stealthily, keeping to the shadows. He wielded two blaster pistols, but he knew the moment he started shooting, he might alert the whole droid crew to his presence.

Still, it was only a matter of time before he was spotted.

“Halt!” a droid called to him from further down the ship’s corridor. “Put your hands up!”

McGill opened fire, downing the droid and the two others that came to assist it. These types of droid weren’t particularly impressive when it came to combat—hell, some of the lower-grade ones seemed barely competent. In large groups, however, they could pose a problem. As he headed deeper into the ship's winding corridors, he tried to separate them into smaller clusters, picking them off gradually as he made his way toward the cargo bay...

OOM-3 "Captain" M Mark Air Gami​