Location: Xucphra City
Allies: Galactic Alliance
Enemies:
Burny Sithy People The Sith Empire
Objective: Show the girls a lovely time
The Girls:
Olga,
Bertha, and
Shelby
12 Hours Earlier
The locals were clearly uncomfortable.
It wasn't just the fact that a large, very scary droid was driving around in a landspeeder more suited to lonely trophy wives hauling their precious little darlings back and forth to sports practice that upset them. Nor was it the fact that, where the kark trophies would normally sit, were three large, intimidating weapons, each one looking like something one might use to shoot down rogue Star Destroyers. They didn't even particularly mind the fact that the large, scary looking droid was talking to the large, scary looking weapons.
No, the thing that most upset them was the fact that the weapons were talking back.
"Daddy, are we there yet?" asked Shelby, the youngest. She sat in the middle.
"Not yet, sweetie. We'll be there soon," Rusty replied patiently.
He loved his girls, and didn't play favorites, but he had to admit that he had a soft spot for Shelby. Her mother had been the late, lamented Gertrude, and in many ways, he was still in mourning. Shelby was still new and rough around the edges, but he had to admit that he saw a little bit Gertrude in her every time he pulled the trigger. It must have been the way everyone in a three mile radius crapped their pants when they saw it for the first time.
"I hope they have armor," said Bertha dreamily. "I love armor."
"I'm sure they will," Rusty reassured her.
He and the girls were on their way to a tech demonstration for the Xucphra Police Department. Though he no longer owned RCFC, he still occasionally did favors for the new owner, one [member="Aver Brand"]. In this case, in exchange for one of Nadir's new
hyperpocket generators, he was running the demonstration, in addition to building her a new shiny.
"Well
I want to get out to the known distance course," said Olga. "Now that Daddy can hear us, I bet we can hit all the way out to six kilometers this time."
It had been a strange few months, Rusty thought to himself. After Gertrude's death and Shelby's construction, a Force user friend had gently suggested the idea that his prized weapons might be a little bit alive. All of them incorporated advanced microprocessors in one capacity or another, and the processors by themselves were technically capable of having as much awareness as the average astromech droid. They weren't specifically designed for it, but in a pinch, they could do it.
That, in and of itself, wouldn't explain the phenomenon that currently sat in the backseat of the speeder. Or, in Olga's case, laid across the entire length of the speeder, stock in the rear and muzzle tucked up over the folded-down passenger seat.
"The chief promised we'd get to try for a new record," he said. "Whether or not they believed me when I said six klicks, I've no clue. Either way, it should be fun."
"If you say so," Olga replied, a bit of doubt in her voice.
What had really made the difference, according to Rusty's friend, was the fact that he loved his guns more than most people loved their children. The Shard was, if one were inclined to be honest, a bit shaky in the sanity department. Eight centuries of berserker madness had been, not really cured, but redirected by the power of friendship, but with the Captain gone, Rusty had been without an anchor. So, his girls became the objects of his very powerful, very focused affection.
According to the friend, the end result had been like beating carbon into a chunk of red hot raw iron. The raw material of the microprocessors had been forged into something very much like life. All the girls needed was a way to hear, and a way to speak.
At first, it had been touch and go. The girls had taken some time to get used to the idea of verbal communication, and had passed through something very much like the developmental cycle of human children. With time and improvements to their processing capacity, they might mature into something very much like adult humans, but for now, they were very much children. Bertha, the oldest, had an approximate age of about 11. Olga, the middle, was around 9, and Shelby about 6.
Rusty had never been a father before. Well, there was that one time he hallucinated having a family, but he tried not to think about that most days. Instead, he focused his love and affection on his beautiful girls.
Present
It was amazing how quickly things could go to hell.
What had been a peaceful day in a peaceful city had turned into blood and fire.
Rusty was holed up in a building, on the third floor. Olga was nestled into the crook of his shoulder. He could practically feel her buzzing with happiness, but she was a good girl and maintained noise discipline. Shelby and Bertha were propped up against the wall next to him. Shelby was sulking; she knew she wasn't the best choice at any sort of range, but she was a little jealous that Olga was getting all the attention. Bertha was simply excited to have the chance to get into a real fight. It would be her first since becoming properly aware.
They were looking down a wide boulevard between two rows of buildings. Yesterday, it had been a bustling place, with people running to and fro, stopping at various street vendors on their way to work, or simply enjoying the company of other organics. Now, the only people here were the dead and dying.
Rusty and Olga had about a thousand meters' worth of visibility. For her, that was practically point blank range. So far, no targets had entered their line of sight, but that was bound to change. Heaven help the poor souls who crossed their path with lethal intent.
