Road to Nowhere

[Marcus Tritum]

Another day, another business meeting.

Nar Shaddaa, one helluva cesspit. Denizens of the corporate worlds loved to conduct their business conventions there, so that in between the stuffy meetings they could kick back, buy a Zeltrosian hooker and snort all the dope they wanted. Incidentally, the capital of sin also was also one of the worst nightmares for security that Dak Canton had ever seen.

But the Tion promised to protect its executives, no matter what sinkhole they wound up in. So they sent him, Tionese Whiteguard extraordinaire... Dak Canton. The Whiteguard was composed of every sort of rabble imaginable, from the sons of dukes to drug dealers looking for gainful employment. More or less knock-off stormtroopers, they were usually assigned to security and executive protection details. Like this one.

Dak stood a bit behind the executive he and Casco had been assigned to protect. Mr. Kamchatka wasn't exactly the brightest Tion had to offer, but he was good at bulldogging desk jockeys, so he was alright by Dak's book.

The three way deal between Tion and two other corporations was about some stock broker mumbo-jumbo. On one side of the table sat Team Corporate Comb-Over from Titan. They'd brought their own protection in the form of a TA4 Ultra Battle Droid. To complete the triangle was, hello, [member="Venussia Sasko"]. Head of Eridium Industrial. She also had a severe case of RBF, which was probably why Mr. Combo-Over looked on the verge of caving to whatever this new-school deal was supposed to be.

"I absolutely cannot do that, Ms. Sasko." Yes he could. That's why he was sweating. "Titan Industries has a reputation to uphold!"

The sleazebot 2000 tugged at his collar as he slowly asphyxiated beneath RBF's stare.

 

[Venussia Sasko]

Usually business meetings like this one on Nar Shaddaa made Venussia Sasko want to spawn gun hands and shoot everybody in sight, but today was different. Today, the CEO of Eridium Industrial was here to seal some important deals for her company. She originally wanted to send an underling, but bribes of copious amounts of cocktails and compliments from the other stockholders changed her mind. Two of her favorite things in the galaxy? Alcohol and being told that she was a corporate genius.

At the table were some suits she didn’t care about and Tionese Whiteguard, Dak “eyes up here” Canton. And by “eyes up here,” Venussia wasn’t talking about his baby blues. Yeah, she’d been checking out his package more thoroughly than the Nabooian customs office. Something something guard my body any day. Clearly, Venussia had one too many Sonic Servodrivers over lunch.

Back to Comb-over and Kawasaki. The CEO was in the middle of getting Comb-over to agree to a ludicrous deal that would benefit Eridium Industries, but probably screw every other company at the table. Maybe Tion would be okay. It wasn’t Ven’s concern. She wasn’t here to make friendships. In fact, the woman was never anywhere to make friendships. Venussia hated people.

Booyah. You will be reamed by my business acumen, and you will beg for it over and over again.

Closing deals made Ven hot and bothered.

“Do you want to continue to do business with Eridium Industries, Mister *incoherent mumble*?" A well-manicured fingernail tapped on a flimsiplast document. "Well, if you do, then here's where you sign."


Oops she forgot the Titan dude’s name. It wasn’t important. Soon, she’d be drinking martinis in a zeyd cloth robe on her hotel terrace and forgetting all about the bald spots peeking out from underneath this guy’s jerbwat nest of a hairdo.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Convention Center room E didn't exactly have it 'happening' tonight. Dak would stare out the window, if there were any windows, but unfortunately suits came to this place to 'get things done' when they weren't engaged in asphyxiation-by-zeltron, or whatever the cubicle kings got off to these days. Thus, boring wood walls, boring red-shag carpet, boring tiled ceiling, with bland fluorescent lights. One had a bulb out. Canton knew because he'd been staring there for the past five minutes before Sasko tapped her fingernail with a delicate click-click that caught his attention.

"Wow. This chick is a pro," was Dak's first thought, followed by, "Are those real? Thank you, faceless helmets." And "Why is the TA-4 glaring at the back of Comb-Over's head?"

With a heavy sigh, the Titan Industries representative reached out a slightly trembling hand for the flimsi. "When you put it that way..."

"Executive Tsatsu, where is your disciprine?" the synthesized voice of the ultra battle droid blared.

Oh, so that's his name.

"I- What?" Tsatsu tried to look at everyone in the room except the looming creation of Hegemonic Automaton. "Very funny, who did this?"

"Executive Tsatsu, cease such queries and compry with your directive."

"Uh, Mr. Tsatsu," Dak slowly placed both hands on his CC-13 carbine. "When was the last time you had its mind wiped?"

"They need mind wipes?" He said, at the precise moment the TA-4 wrapped cold, lifeless fingers around his skull.

"Conduct judgement: dishonorabu. Sorution: termination."

The droid squeezed. Tsatsu's scream of horror lasted about a second before it was replaced with the sound of splintering bone. Blood spattered across the table, followed by the sick thud of Tsatsu's skull, sans parietal bones.

The entire room went still as the TA-4 shook the brain matter off its hand before unholstering its sidearm.

That's when the real screaming started.

"HOLY FREAKING SHI-" Canton screamed as he sent a three round burst of hot plasma into the thing's chest. Casco did the same.

It didn't even slow the droid down. It leveled its sidearm at the Tion executive and shot him in the head. A simple swivel and a second squeeze put a bolt through Casco's unarmored neck. It then proceeded to do the same to the rest of the room.

Dak dived for the ground and only caught two bolts in the side for his efforts. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath. Smoke curled from the scorch marks on his armor.

Keep moving. Keep moving.

He told himself, even as more blaster shots rang out. Canton army-crawled his way under the table, vanishing from sight.

Psycho-robot's laminium plating began repairing the damage done to its carapace while it laid waste to the crowd of dumbfounded pocket protectors. Most didn't even realize what was happening before a lancet of plasma burned through the spot between the eyebrows. TA-4 Model 689 admired its masterpiece, every shot a work of art. Until at last the room was silent.

Smoke coiled from the blackened bodies of the damned. All but [member="Venussia Sasko"].

They were at opposite ends of the long conference room table. Surrounding them, twenty-two dead business men and women, guards, and even the two protocol droids brought in to translate for the Ithorian from Titan.

"You havea great disciprine. It is why you were spared for rast. Titan Industries rejects your arrangement. This concrudes our negotiations."

It raised the blaster pistol.

Canton rolled out from under the table and came to a knee near Sasko's chair.

"Conclude this, you son of a queen."

Thunk.

The CC-13 carbine's underslung launcher spat out a miniaturized grenade that sailed straight for the TA-4's face. Canton tackled Sasko to the ground. An explosion rocked the room, ripping the end of the table apart and sending corpses flying. TA-4 Model 689 slammed into the opposite wall and slumped into a sitting position, arm rent and misshapen. The light slowly faded from its photoreceptors.

Dak peeked out over the remnants of the table, saw the ruin of the droid from hell, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he realized he was still on top of Venussia.

"Hey. Want to get a beer?"

Absorbed in his own heroism, he didn't hear the word...

"Rebooting."

 

[Venussia Sasko]

Comb-over was just about to sign away his career, and Venussia was already celebrating in her head. YES. Venussia mother-karking Sasko closes the deal like a business wizard. Just as she began to plan a victory vacation to the Bright Jewel System, something very strange happened, and looking back on it, she would find the entire scene panned out in almost slow motion detail. There was a bizarre exchange between the Tion suit and his ominous-looking Hegemonic battle droid, one that suggested that bad things were going to happen. And oh, did they happen alright. Bad things happened all over Venussia’s designer wrap dress, fishnets, and kark-me pumps. Blood and viscera spattered everywhere as the executive’s head was squashed like a melon by his own droid. Suddenly, there was 290 kilograms of reinforced Titanium and Laminanium going lethally haywire right now.

They were so screwed.

Blaster beams crisscrossed across the table, and Venussia froze in place, squeezing her eyes shut. A panicked mantra blared in her head like the klaxons resounding throughout the conference room. Feth. Feth. Feth. Feth. Feth. Feth. Feth. I’m going to die. I’m going to die in this death hole, and I didn’t even get to cash in my frequent flyer light years or sleep with a clown.

Suddenly there was silence. Was she dead?

An eye peeped open, just in time to see the T4 raise its blaster pistol at her.

An explosion rocked the room.

Venussia landed backwards with an girlish yelp, and something big landed on top of her. When she opened her eyes, she found herself underneath a man. That in and of itself was not that uncommon a position for her to be in, but usually happened much later on in the evening after last call. As Ven stared into Dak Canton’s baby blues, enjoying the view, she realized that maybe there was one person in this room that she didn’t actually hate. The bodyguard wanted to go get a beer.

“Uh, sure.” Venussia said, then wriggled her arm free so that she could point at the T4 who was rebooting. In her usual deadpan monotone, she added.

“I think he feels like a third wheel.”

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Ever the cautious individual, Dak had already taken off his stormtrooper helmet to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He held it casually in one hand.

"Who?"

Canton peered back over the table. At the far wall, surrounded by crumpled vics, the TA4's body whirred, photoreceptors flickering back to life. The laminanium alloy of its chassis rippled, ejecting shrapnel.

The helmet dropped to the floor.

"Oh you've gotta be friggin' kidding me."

What the frak kind of droids did Hegemonic Automaton sell? He stood up, aimed his carbine at the droid, then thought better of it. One person here still needed his protection. He couldn't just slug it out with the devil-droid, guns blazing, while the doll stood around waiting to be collateral damage. They needed to get some breathing space before the droid decided to do so for itself... You know, by ventilating them both.

"Time to blow this casket," Dak said, voice as gravelly as a construction yard, "C'mon."

A straight kick to the conference room door slammed it wide open. Not strictly necessary, but damn, did it look theatrical. Dak looked back at [member="Venussia Sasko"]. "You coming or you gonna stay with the stiffs?"

 

[Venussia Sasko]

Venussia hated people, and generaly spent countless hours wishing they were dead. But despite her misanthropy, wouldn’t natural causes be a much better way for them to go than this massacre? The carpets would need a whole lot less cleaning anyway. The businesswoman blinked furiously and staggered to her feet. She panned her head from Dak to the droid and back again. With a metallic click, the bodyguard aimed his carbine at the T4, and the CEO covered her head, eyes squeezed shut. Oh feth. She couldn’t look. She couldn’t look. She couldn’t look.

She looked.

No shot rang out. Instead, Dak said he wanted to haul jets. She shook her head so vehemently that her glasses nearly fell off her nose. Pushing them back up on her face, Venussia snatched up the flimsiplast contract, and nearly cried when she saw only half a signature on it. Whatevs, she would forge the rest of it later.

He kicked the door wide open and looked back at her. She was going to point out that the wall terminal was like, right there, but the man had just saved her life, so perhaps she could keep the withering sarcasm to a dull roar for a bit.

“I’m with you, Chief” she said with a salute, and scurried out the door with the hot bodyguard.

Where were they headed? Who the hell knew? Hopefully anywhere, but here.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Good call."

Did Dak feel bad about leaving Casco's body behind? Sure, but there would be time enough to mourn and bury the fallen. Right now, he had to take care of the living. Staying in that room would just see him and the Queen of Sass shot to bits, or skull crushed, or laser-eyed, or whatever the hell it was that Hegemonic Automaton installed in their damn battle droids these days.

He raced through the hallway, wincing at the pain in his side with every footfall into the plush, red carpet. The blaster bolts hadn't punched through his armor, but they had worked him over something good. Canton grunted and grit his teeth. He'd had worse.

They rounded the corner into the convention center floor, where business men and women were milling about with the rest of the highfalutin society. Some were looking nervously around. They'd heard the explosion.

Uh oh. Canton eyed a pair of Hutts. Slugs out in the wild? No way. There'd be a couple of guards with them for sure. Ah yep, there they were, nasty looking Nikto fuglies. Four of 'em. The kind that were liable to mow you down, kick your corpse over, search it for money, and then make jokes about the dumb kriffing idiot was who ran out in front of the bosses the open carrying a blaster.

Questions? What do you mean questions? No. They wouldn't give a flying kriff about me or Sasko. In fact, ugh. Dak could only imagine what the Hutts would do with his principal if he got offed and she was left all on her lonesome.

"Woah, hey."

Dak motioned Sasko to stop. "Hutts up ahead, with guards. They're all on the alert. Must've heard the grenade go off. C'mon, let's go out before security shows up."

He turned to head in the opposite direction from the Hutts, walking with quick, self-assured steps across the convention center floor. Nar Shaddaa was the freakin' jungle. Act like prey and you got eaten, especially when any pretense of law and order was goin' out the window.

Speaking of law and order, two of Nar Shaddaa's finest burst through the back doors, guns drawn at the sight of Dak's carbine.

"Halt, Nar Shaddaa security!"

"Are you friggin' kidding me?"

"We've received reports of an explosion. Put down the weapon, sir."

These dopes were probably only here because they knew that the Hutts were at the location of the explosion. Couldn't let the Hutts get hurt, but a couple humans? Naaah.

Canton scowled and looked at Sasko. She was the talking head genius here. "Sasko, can you tell these-"

Clank. Clank. Clank.

TA4 Model 689 came out of the hallway, looking pretty spry for having just taken a frag to the chest not five minutes ago. Yellow photoreceptors scanned the convention center floor before locking on to Dak and [member="Venussia Sasko"]. Canton met the cold, inhuman gaze and felt a sick feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with the blaster bruises.

"Target acquired."

 

[Venussia Sasko]

If Sasko’s coworkers saw her moving this fast, they’d wonder just who was this woman and what did she do with Venussia? Everyone knew that Sasko notoriously lollygagged around Eridium Industries Headquarters, stretching out her steps so that seconds took minutes, chit chatting with the mailboy, until, oh my, just look at the time. It’s five o’ clock already! Then, she zipped out the door like a BB-8 unit.

Ven ran like the wind after the bodyguard, stopping only to loot a pistol from a hapless dead suit, lying with arms and legs akimbo. Firearms weren’t really her thing, but how hard could shooting one be? She’d beaten Grand Theft Speeder on the highest difficulty setting, and that pretty much made her an expert marksman. It was science. The businesswoman followed Dak’s baby blues to a duo of Hutts that came slithering out of nowhere. Oh feth.

Glad I shaved my legs for that metal bikini I’m going to be wearing.

A hand shot out. Dak was signalling for her to stop. Yes, sir! Whatever you say, Officer Hottie. The couple turned, did an about-face, and were headed towards the nearest blinking exit Holo-sign, when there was a cacophony of security guards shouting and Dak yelling out her name, and not in the way she wanted him to.

“Yes, I can explain everything,” she started, suddenly taking on an air of self-assured authority. “That lame droid back there was…”

Words trailed off, and eyes widened. She froze in place when she saw it. The rogue droid was back, and this time it was personal. This time, he was aiming his pistol right for her.

FETH!

Venussia let out a meep and shoved both the security guards right in the droid’s line of fire just as it pulled the trigger. She didn't stop to witness the two bodies falling to the ground with a wet thunk-thunk.

“Any day now, Hottie,” she said, grabbing Dak's hand and pulling him towards the glowing exit sign.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Holy crap," was all Dak could think as the TU Exec in her pumps and leggings suddenly flipped the script and turned stone-cold native. The chick shoved both of the startled guards into the TA4's line of fire. Thoroughly confused and poorly trained, because honestly how much friggin' funding do you think Nar Shaddaa gives to local security, they hesitated. TA4 model 689 did not. The droid put a bolt of plasma in each of their foreheads in the time it took Dak to blink.

Already being dragged by Sasko, Dak rushed out the door. A sudden series of staccato whines engulfed the convention center behind them. The reports of the Hutts' guards, no doubt. Those Niktos were a different breed of security altogether. They'd kill you without blinking. Literally. And the Hutts made damn sure that they knew how to kill and kill well. Hopefully, that was the last they'd seen of the invinci-droid.

On the steps, they hailed a hack cab and climbed in.

"Spaceport, book it," Dak growled.

The automated speeder cab replied with, "Affirmative."

Dak winced. Great. Another droid. He swore he'd never be able to trust one of these things again.

They sat in the cramped back of the camb, pushed together by necessity. Dak smelled of sweat and burnt platoid. The blaster carbine lay across his knees and if they were lucky that's where it would stay. He noted that Sasko had picked up a pistol somewhere. Smart. Maybe too smart. The way that she'd sacrificed those officers... sure, they were probably crooked, but damn that was cold. He wondered who made that decision, Sasko, or the trade executive. Didn't imagine that businesses got overly sentimental. Probably bought and sold people's livelihoods everyday.

He glanced over at her.

"You alright? What the hell was that anyway?"

[member="Venussia Sasko"]

 

[Venussia Sasko]

Venussia sat in the back of a speeder taxi, pressed up against a man that smelled like carbon scoring, and was shaking within an inch of her life. What in the blazes happened back there? Did she just commit homicide?

"You alright? What the hell was that anyway?"

The woman met his gaze with eyes that seemed like they were perpetually on the cusp of rolling. In other words, her usual expression. A one-shouldered shrug came.

"I'm fine," she said a bit more casually than she would have liked. "I don't know what that was. It was either them or us, you know?"

With trembling hands, Sasko pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her jacket and put one between her lips, red lipstick smudged on her cheek in a comma shape. She kind of wanted to kiss the guy for saving her life. Or maybe she was just horny. Instead she asked him a question.

"You wouldn't happen to have a light?"

Her fishnets were ripped, her lipstick was smudged, and the hottie probably thought she was a homicidal maniac.

You could say Venussia was having a very bad day.

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Cool as a cucumber. She was taking this a lot better than he expected. Maybe she was in shock. Then again, he was assuming that this was the first time she'd killed somebody, or had them killed, or seen death, or whatever. First time Dak had killed somebody he'd puked right after... No wait, that was the time he'd shanked the Rodian. Introductory knife kills'll do that to you.

He eyed the smoke. Not a bad idea.

"Duh."

Let's see, where had he put that thing? Second to the hip on the right side. Dak opened the utility belt capsule and pulled out the lighter. A single flick set the flame alight and he held it out to her smoke until it lit.

The droid brain of the speeder immediately responded.

"No smoking."

"What? No smoking, this is friggin' Nar Shaddaa."

"No smoking," repeated the droid, insensitive to the political climate.

"Listen pal, we've nearly died at least twice today. I got shot. A battle droid went crazy. Two security guards are dead. So the lady needs a smoke. Hell, I need one too, so how about you can it before I put a few bolts in your processor and see if I can't fly this thing myself?"

Several seconds of silence, then, "Ok."

"Jeez, it never ends with these things. Friggin' droids." Dak shook his head. "I swear, we get out of this alive and I'll buy you a drink."

[member="Venussia Sasko"]

 

[Venussia Sasko]

Venussia took a long drag off her cigarette and blew the smoke out of the side of her lips. The CEO sat in silence and listened to Dak argue with the taxi pilot. It was almost soothing hearing them bicker like normal people, or well, a normal person and a droid not hellbent on turning a convention center into a terror dome. The handsome bodyguard finally convinced the droid pilot to see things his way. She imagined that happened a lot with this guy. His grit had grit. Dak turned back to Ven.

"Jeez, it never ends with these things. Friggin' droids. I swear, we get out of this alive and I'll buy you a drink."

"Droids suck," agreed Venussia. But they should at least be rewarded for not being people. She didn't say that part outloud though. But hello, drinks! Yes, please. Drinking was one of her true passions in life. That and making fun of stupid people.

"Are you hurt at all?" the young woman asked, eyeing him. She wondered if hottie would let her play nurse with him later. Too bad she didn't bring along the costume.

Her adrenaline was still pumping off the charts, but the cigarette was helping. As were those baby blues.

"Where the hell are we going anyway?"

[member="Dak Canton"]

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"What?" The hired gun glanced at his side. Two black craters marred the white armor. Tramp stamps courtesy of the death bot 9000. Underneath, the bruises throbbed. Dak shrugged.

"Nothing to write home about."

He pointed out the windshield. "Spaceport's the destination. We get on a ship. We get out of here. Not stickin' around to see if the Energizer Bunny is still gunning for us."

Smiling, Canton felt himself slowly begin to relax. A couple bruises and a room full of dead business people. He might be out of a job, but hey, least he had his health. Sometimes you just had to settle for-

Bwwweeooooo. Bweeeooooo.

Sirens? What the hell? "You've got to be kidding me," Canton growled, looking out the rear view to see the cruiser pulling up behind them, lights flashing.

"Attention, pull over. Occupants within are wanted for questioning."

If there was one thing anybody on Nar Shaddaa knew it was that you couldn't trust the cops. They might put up a good semblance of doing their jobs, but the truth was that they were all rotten as a bucket of six month old apples. The stench of Nar Shaddaa? It was called moral decay.

"No way. These goons are probably on the Hutts' payroll. Want to ask us a few questions. We end up in a cell. Then maybe we get transferred. Get lost in the transfer. Wind up in a Hutt's basement. I don't know about you, but I'm not wearing a metal bikini anytime soon."

But the auto cab had other ideas. It started to pull over. Slowly, Dak flicked the setting on his blaster to stun.

The cab pulled up next to the cruiser and the windows slid down on their own volition.

"Hey officers, there a problem?"

What passed for Nar Shaddaa's finest took one look at the pair of shook up occupants before they replied. "Step out of the vehicle."

"I'm not about to fall a thousand and one stories to my death, so how about option b?"

One of the officers pointed, "There's a walkway over there, jackass. Pull over to it."

"Well droidy. You heard him."

"Complying."

Seconds later, Dak and Sasko were approached by the security guards on the walkway. Canton didn't let them get very far. As soon as they both stepped out of the vehicle he raised his blaster carbine and sent a chorus of stun bolts at them. One managed to get a shot off before he went down, but the lancet of plasma shrieked wide.

Canton opened the door and offered a hand to Sasko. "Let's go. This place'll be crawling with these mall cops in no time. Plan A is a bust. Time to find someplace in this hell hole to lay low."

Fortunately, if one was looking for hideyholes, for a certain fee not a place in the galaxy could beat Nar Shaddaa. The ex-Fringe Confederacy commando pointed down the walkway. The ramp led down, into the belly of the beast.

[member="Venussia Sasko"]