Aun Liss
Character
Location: Republic Flotilla, General Carrier
Late evening, day of the Invasion
Participants: @Aun Liss, [member="Kae Drama"].
At her workbench, Aun tinkered with one of her many R-X droids, pulling parts from various compatible machines to throw into the one palm-sized droid. Her goal, ultimately, was to create the perfect companion, with utility unmatched. A pair of standard R-X's that she'd patched up earlier sat in the corner amongst rifles, assorted armor parts, and even a couple spare droids, all hooked up to the massive power supply hookup that the hangar offered. They'd reach full charge soon, certainly, but she couldn't particularly care less. The digital display on her mask was purposefully blank, the whole of her concentration focused solely on the tip of a particularly tiny pair of tweezers, ones that held a delicate silver wire in place under the carefully enhanced eyes of the Deilokin. Scuttling on eight legs, one final R-X droid, the one Aun was currently assigned, rushed to her side to hold a tiny spare arm for the gutted droid on the table just so while Aun connected the first of a great many pre-prepared wires leading to tiny spare motors and eventually to the tiny motherboard housed in the center of the little droid.
Even with the exquisite climate control of the flotilla, and even perfect control over her workspace's climate (save the type I atmosphere), Aun found a bead of sweat trailing over her forehead, much to her annoyance. With her mask still essential, she couldn't move to wipe her brow with an arm. She hurried to secure at least one piece of the arm's frame to the body of the droid before the salty moisture dropped into her eye. Dropping the tool and relaxing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and held it before touching the sides of her mask, popping out the visor for an easy catch with an audible hiss. The tinted living glass in one hand, she dabbed at her forehead with the wrist of the other, relieved to feel the cool air on her bare face. It always struck her as odd, every time she viewed the world without the additional clutter of her visor HUD. Been living in these type I atmospheres too long, I guess. She thought with an internal sigh.
Reluctantly, Aun replaced the visor over her smooth, pale blue skin, as she idly thought about the childhood friends left behind on Deilos. She wouldn't be able to visit any time soon, not being so new to the Republic, but perhaps she could ask for leave sometime in the next two galactic standard months. It might be wishful thinking, but after the events of Coruscant, she'd been struck with the overwhelming desire to see that everyone was safe. Goodness, she hadn't been able to calm down once reaching the flotilla until she was able to secure a call with Fassin and see that he had made it off planet alive after the invasion.
"Liss!" Instantly, Aun recognized the voice of her superior officer. Spinning to face the approaching senior officer, she jumped to her feet, not wanting to be punished for slacking off, even if this was technically her down time.
"At ease," he began, the slight lift at the corner of his mouth confusing her for a moment, but thankfully the LED display hadn't quite booted just then. It flickered to life just after she was able to collect herself once more. "I have a project for you. This Shard is looking for a new outfit. See that it's temporarily housed in a MK until we can get it back to R&D or otherwise secure an advanced droid for it to pilot. It'll introduce herself, I'm sure, since I don't have a damn neural interface to communicate with it."
While not entirely sure that she was the best equipped to handle another alien considering her purely technical affinity, Aun did know for sure that she was the best at jerry-rigging droids to serve her own purposes. With a quick mental ping, she used her companion AI to search the databases for anything pertaining Shard preferences when it came to droid rigs. She accepted the casefile from her CO with a salute and assurances that she'd get the job done, but she couldn't so much as wait until he was out the door before she found herself rushing back to her workbench, carefully shifting aside the R-X's and generally clearing a space to spread out the numerous blueprints to what she could only assume would be her rescue mission for the living crystal. The Shard itself was to be about 40cm in length, but only a fraction of that in width, according the specs on the chest cavity of the droid housing. Having never personally met a Shard, only observing them in increasingly advanced droids from R&D from afar, Aun couldn't deny she was excited to handle one.
Having gathered all the info she could, she called for a team of droids to wheel in the sparking mess of the newest model fresh off the R&D press, noting with a hint of curiosity that though it had taken quite the hit, blowing the arms clean off their holdings by what looked like blaster fire at close range (though it could very well be an anti-tank missile judging from the size of the rig and the materials she could identify), and leaving lower limbs as little more than oil-leaking ribbons. The sight of the destruction triggered a brief flash of earlier that day, but she shook it off with a little effort. She could think about that later. There was someone inside this destroyed lump of junk, and it needed her help.
Carefully, Aun climbed up the metal frame that held the body until she rested just below the chest level. The LED eyes upon her visor blinked to reflect her biological pair, which studied the extensive damage with a clinical air. She didn't have the mock-muscle carbon fibers required to forge new limbs, or even the authority to order new ones. And the crisp smell of burning artificial flesh was simply not acceptable. It all had to go.
Late evening, day of the Invasion
Participants: @Aun Liss, [member="Kae Drama"].
At her workbench, Aun tinkered with one of her many R-X droids, pulling parts from various compatible machines to throw into the one palm-sized droid. Her goal, ultimately, was to create the perfect companion, with utility unmatched. A pair of standard R-X's that she'd patched up earlier sat in the corner amongst rifles, assorted armor parts, and even a couple spare droids, all hooked up to the massive power supply hookup that the hangar offered. They'd reach full charge soon, certainly, but she couldn't particularly care less. The digital display on her mask was purposefully blank, the whole of her concentration focused solely on the tip of a particularly tiny pair of tweezers, ones that held a delicate silver wire in place under the carefully enhanced eyes of the Deilokin. Scuttling on eight legs, one final R-X droid, the one Aun was currently assigned, rushed to her side to hold a tiny spare arm for the gutted droid on the table just so while Aun connected the first of a great many pre-prepared wires leading to tiny spare motors and eventually to the tiny motherboard housed in the center of the little droid.
Even with the exquisite climate control of the flotilla, and even perfect control over her workspace's climate (save the type I atmosphere), Aun found a bead of sweat trailing over her forehead, much to her annoyance. With her mask still essential, she couldn't move to wipe her brow with an arm. She hurried to secure at least one piece of the arm's frame to the body of the droid before the salty moisture dropped into her eye. Dropping the tool and relaxing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and held it before touching the sides of her mask, popping out the visor for an easy catch with an audible hiss. The tinted living glass in one hand, she dabbed at her forehead with the wrist of the other, relieved to feel the cool air on her bare face. It always struck her as odd, every time she viewed the world without the additional clutter of her visor HUD. Been living in these type I atmospheres too long, I guess. She thought with an internal sigh.
Reluctantly, Aun replaced the visor over her smooth, pale blue skin, as she idly thought about the childhood friends left behind on Deilos. She wouldn't be able to visit any time soon, not being so new to the Republic, but perhaps she could ask for leave sometime in the next two galactic standard months. It might be wishful thinking, but after the events of Coruscant, she'd been struck with the overwhelming desire to see that everyone was safe. Goodness, she hadn't been able to calm down once reaching the flotilla until she was able to secure a call with Fassin and see that he had made it off planet alive after the invasion.
"Liss!" Instantly, Aun recognized the voice of her superior officer. Spinning to face the approaching senior officer, she jumped to her feet, not wanting to be punished for slacking off, even if this was technically her down time.
"At ease," he began, the slight lift at the corner of his mouth confusing her for a moment, but thankfully the LED display hadn't quite booted just then. It flickered to life just after she was able to collect herself once more. "I have a project for you. This Shard is looking for a new outfit. See that it's temporarily housed in a MK until we can get it back to R&D or otherwise secure an advanced droid for it to pilot. It'll introduce herself, I'm sure, since I don't have a damn neural interface to communicate with it."
While not entirely sure that she was the best equipped to handle another alien considering her purely technical affinity, Aun did know for sure that she was the best at jerry-rigging droids to serve her own purposes. With a quick mental ping, she used her companion AI to search the databases for anything pertaining Shard preferences when it came to droid rigs. She accepted the casefile from her CO with a salute and assurances that she'd get the job done, but she couldn't so much as wait until he was out the door before she found herself rushing back to her workbench, carefully shifting aside the R-X's and generally clearing a space to spread out the numerous blueprints to what she could only assume would be her rescue mission for the living crystal. The Shard itself was to be about 40cm in length, but only a fraction of that in width, according the specs on the chest cavity of the droid housing. Having never personally met a Shard, only observing them in increasingly advanced droids from R&D from afar, Aun couldn't deny she was excited to handle one.
Having gathered all the info she could, she called for a team of droids to wheel in the sparking mess of the newest model fresh off the R&D press, noting with a hint of curiosity that though it had taken quite the hit, blowing the arms clean off their holdings by what looked like blaster fire at close range (though it could very well be an anti-tank missile judging from the size of the rig and the materials she could identify), and leaving lower limbs as little more than oil-leaking ribbons. The sight of the destruction triggered a brief flash of earlier that day, but she shook it off with a little effort. She could think about that later. There was someone inside this destroyed lump of junk, and it needed her help.
Carefully, Aun climbed up the metal frame that held the body until she rested just below the chest level. The LED eyes upon her visor blinked to reflect her biological pair, which studied the extensive damage with a clinical air. She didn't have the mock-muscle carbon fibers required to forge new limbs, or even the authority to order new ones. And the crisp smell of burning artificial flesh was simply not acceptable. It all had to go.
