Charbrin Curos
Droid Engineer
Theed, Naboo
Local Time: 9:03PM
Throwing a wrench across the build room with a deafening crash, Charbrin shouted over his shoulder:
“E1, where have you put the socket spanner?”
A series of protesting beeps was the response he got. Turning to the MSE-6 unit, Charbrin strode over to it and flipped it treads-up, holding it aloft.
“If it’s not the spanner, it’s the box of chips. If it’s not the chips, it’s the comlink! Why can’t you just put things back where they belong like I ask you to?” Charbrin growled, shaking the droid like a jar of table spice.
E161Y trilled out loudly, spinning his treads in an attempt to escape. Charbrin turned him right ways up; just in time for E1’s manipulator arm to shoot out and smack him dead in the face.
“AGH!” Charbrin cried, dropping the droid suddenly and holding his nose. The MSE unit carted off, letting out a pattern of rapid beeps mimicking laughter. Charbrin sat down at the workshop table rubbing his now throbbing face.
He faced towards the half-completed R5 unit, laid out on its side, with wires and components bare to the world. Strewn about the table was an assortment of tools, parts and cables destined to make up the droid. Feeling his way to the droid itself, he put a hand inside of it and felt around the interior of the chassis.
“Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, “Motor, cable, cable, bat- AH!”
Feeling something inside a mount point, he gently pulled it out and felt it with both hands. Despite the setbacks of having the sight of aged bantha set for an early retirement, he had become quite adept at identifying his tools by touch; crooked curve, two jutting heads, smooth handle.
Charbrin had found the socket spanner.
Running his teeth over his bottom lip, he turned just in time to hear E1 wheeling towards him frenziedly making a series of high-pitched beeps. No, these weren’t MSE beeps; these were the beeps of his comlink.
He leaned out of the chair and reached out a hand, feeling the comlink hit his open palm. “Thanks, E1.” said Charbrin, flipping it and putting it to his ear.
“Curos Repairs, how can I help?” answered Charbrin, clicking the comlink to accept the call.
There was no noise on the other end other than a crackling, as if somebody were fiddling with their link. He straightened up in his chair and stated again, more flatly, “Curos Repairs, can I help?”
“Hello?” came a soft, cracked voice. Charbrin’s heart sank. It was Sator Beba for the third time this week. A one-time dancer in her younger years (or so she had told him the last two times he was helping her), she owned an old C1-series Astromech that had been fitted with a catalogue of old dance tapes of herself. The mech was on its last legs; battery had been replaced twice, the treads had dropped off due to the rust on the interior wheel arches and he was convinced the chip was corrupted, as it took about seven commands to perform even a simple task.
He had offered to upgrade her to a newer build, offering to even transfer the holotape data over to the new droid for no extra cost, but she was sentimental about it. It had been her baby since she first started in the cantinas and now, in her twilight years, she couldn’t bear to put it out to scrap.
Charbrin sighed under his breath and replied flatly, “Hello Ms Beba, are you having issues with P6 again?”.
“Yes baby, P won’t play any of my tapes. I ask him several times over and- “
“He doesn’t respond until the seventh time,” intercut Charbrin frustratedly, “As I said to you yesterday Ms Beba, I’d be more than happy to get you a new droid. I know you’re attached to P6 but he’s not in a good shape.”
There was a pause on the phone, in which more crackling occurred. The line suddenly disconnected; she had accidently hung up.
Just as Charbrin reached to tap on the link to call her back, another series of beeps came in. He answered quickly with his usual opening:
“Curos Repairs, how can I help?”
“Charbrin, how are you doing?” came a warm voice. Charbrin smiled at hearing from his old mentor Stiv. When Charbrin first came to Naboo, he thought he would never get a chance to find a job. Stiv saw something in the Miraluka that not many others did, and took the chance on him to become an apprentice in his engineering guild.
“Yeah Stiv, had easier days but currently working. We should catch up soon, maybe go to the cantina?” replied Charbrin. Stiv laughed softly. “Funny you should say that, I’m calling you from outside the bar now. I need to talk to you about something urgent, preferably in person. You tied up?”
Charbrin thought of Ms Beba, probably trying to ring him at this very moment. He stood up and made for the door. “Not at all, Stiv. Always free for you.” Stiv laughed again and hung up. Throwing a jacket over his work clothes. Whistling for E1, he put his link on the table, picked up his staff and turned off the lights.
“Come on E1, let’s go.”
With that, him and the droid left the workshop into the cool night air of Theed. It was a fresh night, one of those early spring airs right after the chill of winter. The ornate lanterns hit his eyes like piercing stars through a sea of dark waves. He turned right and walked along the street, making a beeline for the cantina.
Local Time: 9:03PM
Throwing a wrench across the build room with a deafening crash, Charbrin shouted over his shoulder:
“E1, where have you put the socket spanner?”
A series of protesting beeps was the response he got. Turning to the MSE-6 unit, Charbrin strode over to it and flipped it treads-up, holding it aloft.
“If it’s not the spanner, it’s the box of chips. If it’s not the chips, it’s the comlink! Why can’t you just put things back where they belong like I ask you to?” Charbrin growled, shaking the droid like a jar of table spice.
E161Y trilled out loudly, spinning his treads in an attempt to escape. Charbrin turned him right ways up; just in time for E1’s manipulator arm to shoot out and smack him dead in the face.
“AGH!” Charbrin cried, dropping the droid suddenly and holding his nose. The MSE unit carted off, letting out a pattern of rapid beeps mimicking laughter. Charbrin sat down at the workshop table rubbing his now throbbing face.
He faced towards the half-completed R5 unit, laid out on its side, with wires and components bare to the world. Strewn about the table was an assortment of tools, parts and cables destined to make up the droid. Feeling his way to the droid itself, he put a hand inside of it and felt around the interior of the chassis.
“Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, “Motor, cable, cable, bat- AH!”
Feeling something inside a mount point, he gently pulled it out and felt it with both hands. Despite the setbacks of having the sight of aged bantha set for an early retirement, he had become quite adept at identifying his tools by touch; crooked curve, two jutting heads, smooth handle.
Charbrin had found the socket spanner.
Running his teeth over his bottom lip, he turned just in time to hear E1 wheeling towards him frenziedly making a series of high-pitched beeps. No, these weren’t MSE beeps; these were the beeps of his comlink.
He leaned out of the chair and reached out a hand, feeling the comlink hit his open palm. “Thanks, E1.” said Charbrin, flipping it and putting it to his ear.
“Curos Repairs, how can I help?” answered Charbrin, clicking the comlink to accept the call.
There was no noise on the other end other than a crackling, as if somebody were fiddling with their link. He straightened up in his chair and stated again, more flatly, “Curos Repairs, can I help?”
“Hello?” came a soft, cracked voice. Charbrin’s heart sank. It was Sator Beba for the third time this week. A one-time dancer in her younger years (or so she had told him the last two times he was helping her), she owned an old C1-series Astromech that had been fitted with a catalogue of old dance tapes of herself. The mech was on its last legs; battery had been replaced twice, the treads had dropped off due to the rust on the interior wheel arches and he was convinced the chip was corrupted, as it took about seven commands to perform even a simple task.
He had offered to upgrade her to a newer build, offering to even transfer the holotape data over to the new droid for no extra cost, but she was sentimental about it. It had been her baby since she first started in the cantinas and now, in her twilight years, she couldn’t bear to put it out to scrap.
Charbrin sighed under his breath and replied flatly, “Hello Ms Beba, are you having issues with P6 again?”.
“Yes baby, P won’t play any of my tapes. I ask him several times over and- “
“He doesn’t respond until the seventh time,” intercut Charbrin frustratedly, “As I said to you yesterday Ms Beba, I’d be more than happy to get you a new droid. I know you’re attached to P6 but he’s not in a good shape.”
There was a pause on the phone, in which more crackling occurred. The line suddenly disconnected; she had accidently hung up.
Just as Charbrin reached to tap on the link to call her back, another series of beeps came in. He answered quickly with his usual opening:
“Curos Repairs, how can I help?”
“Charbrin, how are you doing?” came a warm voice. Charbrin smiled at hearing from his old mentor Stiv. When Charbrin first came to Naboo, he thought he would never get a chance to find a job. Stiv saw something in the Miraluka that not many others did, and took the chance on him to become an apprentice in his engineering guild.
“Yeah Stiv, had easier days but currently working. We should catch up soon, maybe go to the cantina?” replied Charbrin. Stiv laughed softly. “Funny you should say that, I’m calling you from outside the bar now. I need to talk to you about something urgent, preferably in person. You tied up?”
Charbrin thought of Ms Beba, probably trying to ring him at this very moment. He stood up and made for the door. “Not at all, Stiv. Always free for you.” Stiv laughed again and hung up. Throwing a jacket over his work clothes. Whistling for E1, he put his link on the table, picked up his staff and turned off the lights.
“Come on E1, let’s go.”
With that, him and the droid left the workshop into the cool night air of Theed. It was a fresh night, one of those early spring airs right after the chill of winter. The ornate lanterns hit his eyes like piercing stars through a sea of dark waves. He turned right and walked along the street, making a beeline for the cantina.
