Derisive Umbaran
ORD CESTUS
MC-CES-082
The basement level, where we usually ran all the tests for experimental models, was usually cold. Very cold. It helped the computers run more effectively, but they probably just wanted to cut down on the heating bill. Much cheaper to make everyone down here wear two layers of clothes than to pump in some heat. I couldn't imagine how much it cost to keep these facilities running in the first place. They were huge and took a lot of maintenance. Plus all the cost of the people living at these facilities. Droids are expensive products, I guess, and when you sell as many as Hegemonic Automaton, you could probably afford these types of factories.
I pulled my arms in closer, tucking my shivering hands into my armpits to afford them some measure of warmth. Kept forgetting the gloves. Stupid gloves. Living on a planet like Ord Cestus didn't exactly adjust me to the cold. These guys were paying pretty good, though, better than some other companies on the planet. It certainly beat enlisting in some Mandalorian cannon fodder battalion. My cousin did that and, after that one foray into One Sith territory, there hadn't been enough of him to warrant sending anything back.
Crazy galaxy we lived in, man.
The whole basement level looked like it was just an empty warehouse. Normally there would be targets set up, droid parts laying around, melee weapons and blasters strewn everywhere. I'd have some company, other technicians or some dudes from corporate. There were just a lot of tests that went down here, from droid performance to making sure the programming was done right. Like making sure the K-65 Neuro-Saav made was functioning properly with the droids, testing their combat response times. Sometimes they brought in Mandalorians to wrestle with the TA1s and see how they measured up. Last time I checked the scoreboard in the lounge, the Mandos were still winning, but the gap between the two scores shrunk a little more each day.
Now, though, it was totally empty. Not even those weird Epicanthix "observers" we weren't allowed to talk to. Just me, a few small crates piled up, and the computer equipment on top of it.
Like, I asked why I was going to be down here alone, but I wish I hadn't. They said something like "this is one of our more dangerous models, better to minimize potential casualties if something goes wrong." I should've said something but, even with that kind of ominous reasoning, was I really going to be better off if I quit this job and ended up drafted into some Mandalorian fire team? End up dead or Sith-ified or... Whatever it was One Sith did to their enemies?
I shuddered, but that was mostly from the cold. I wasn't going to be alone forever. Some bigwig from corporate was going to show up and watch everything unfold. Weird that this was too risky to have the grunt staff like myself get murdered, yet this apparently big deal was going to come in and watch it himself. Good for him, I guess.
MC-CES-082
The basement level, where we usually ran all the tests for experimental models, was usually cold. Very cold. It helped the computers run more effectively, but they probably just wanted to cut down on the heating bill. Much cheaper to make everyone down here wear two layers of clothes than to pump in some heat. I couldn't imagine how much it cost to keep these facilities running in the first place. They were huge and took a lot of maintenance. Plus all the cost of the people living at these facilities. Droids are expensive products, I guess, and when you sell as many as Hegemonic Automaton, you could probably afford these types of factories.
I pulled my arms in closer, tucking my shivering hands into my armpits to afford them some measure of warmth. Kept forgetting the gloves. Stupid gloves. Living on a planet like Ord Cestus didn't exactly adjust me to the cold. These guys were paying pretty good, though, better than some other companies on the planet. It certainly beat enlisting in some Mandalorian cannon fodder battalion. My cousin did that and, after that one foray into One Sith territory, there hadn't been enough of him to warrant sending anything back.
Crazy galaxy we lived in, man.
The whole basement level looked like it was just an empty warehouse. Normally there would be targets set up, droid parts laying around, melee weapons and blasters strewn everywhere. I'd have some company, other technicians or some dudes from corporate. There were just a lot of tests that went down here, from droid performance to making sure the programming was done right. Like making sure the K-65 Neuro-Saav made was functioning properly with the droids, testing their combat response times. Sometimes they brought in Mandalorians to wrestle with the TA1s and see how they measured up. Last time I checked the scoreboard in the lounge, the Mandos were still winning, but the gap between the two scores shrunk a little more each day.
Now, though, it was totally empty. Not even those weird Epicanthix "observers" we weren't allowed to talk to. Just me, a few small crates piled up, and the computer equipment on top of it.
Like, I asked why I was going to be down here alone, but I wish I hadn't. They said something like "this is one of our more dangerous models, better to minimize potential casualties if something goes wrong." I should've said something but, even with that kind of ominous reasoning, was I really going to be better off if I quit this job and ended up drafted into some Mandalorian fire team? End up dead or Sith-ified or... Whatever it was One Sith did to their enemies?
I shuddered, but that was mostly from the cold. I wasn't going to be alone forever. Some bigwig from corporate was going to show up and watch everything unfold. Weird that this was too risky to have the grunt staff like myself get murdered, yet this apparently big deal was going to come in and watch it himself. Good for him, I guess.