Altered Carbon (Galactic Alliance Dominion of Duro Hex)

[Ultimatum]

Location: T-32 (Duro)
Intentions: Assist in reconstruction to gain access to the funding of the Galactic Alliance (Starshipwright)
Allies: Galactic Alliance, Associates

The construction effort was proceeding as planned. The station's outer shell was mostly repaired and the infrastructure was well in place. The droid had been concerned, there was some evident flaws in the construction lines that had once been part of the orbital construction yard. It was not a truly dangerous failure, but the inefficiency was too great for Ultimatum to allow to survive the repairs. This system had been properly upgraded to comply with more modern standards. After all, he would not wish to disappoint the organics with this work. If he was going to receive payment then he wanted to have earned it.

But, before work could be completed on the working areas, the internal structure had to be prepared. Floors, walls, hangar bays, they all had to be made before such work could be completed. The areas had to be designated in order to make the creation more efficient. Efficiency was key in this sort of construction. Time, effort, resources, each was important to use. Ultimatum was drawing up floor plans while the repair crews continued their work, the artificial hoped that his adjustments to the floor plan, which were based on a higher level of focus on maintenance and specialization. Of course, the crews that followed could change it as they saw fit, Ultimatum did not care what they did afterwords. He didn't grow attached to his creations, at least not those that were intended for others. That was just opening himself up to more pain than he was willing to bear.

 

[HK-36]

[member="Rekha Kaarde"],

"Yeah I might have an idea, keep it in your pants though."

HK quipped back to Rekha before motioning for her to follow him sideways, away from the main promenade of the city-ship and into a nearby dark shady alley.

"As to why I am here, over recent time we begun to see markings in the catacombs of Mechanus, the previous domain of Metal Lords, we were never able to fully track down all the sources of these sigils but we have spotted them within our ships and stations after we settled around Denon and Corellia, as well as some civilian and GA ships which passed through Abregado."

The droid pulled out a small holoprojector, activating it to display an image of a red photoreceptor surrounded by colorful strangely shaped flames almost like tentacles,

"This is the mark of one of the Warped Gods worshiped by Bando Gora during the Pyre's campaigns against them, they call him the Machine God. I believe that even before the Bando Gora the daemon influenced and confined with some Mechanus Droids, when I fought him on Gehenna he took the appearance of a metal dragon, a design I rarely saw outside of Mechanus. Despite my best efforts it seems his cult survived among some Metal Lords droids after the destruction of Bando Gora and now spread to Duro, and I believe, other planets and ships within Metal Lord, Galactic Alliance, and Force know where else."

HK explained to Rekha before concluding,

"I am here to track down the cultists and interrogate them, see just how deep and how expansive their cult is."

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Location: Duro
Objective: Starshipwright (Pizza Hutt)
Allies: GA and friends

The High House of Duros was swift in getting the construction permits done, but the Gungan would never hesitate one moment to get the place rebuilt, with, of course, the structural work being done first. Duracrete being worked in every location, duracrete being poured where cracks abound, provided that it didn't need demolition beforehand. Because there were areas that were so structurally unsound that they require to be rebuilt completely, the resulting rubble had to be taken out of the premises, and reinforced duracrete had to be poured and cured while this was underway. Luckily because they were mostly on the upper floor, that is, the second floor, that did not jeopardize the work being done on the first floor. Also, once that is done, roofing would also need to be rebuilt, with water condensers and the requisite insulation underneath. Ugohr may be wondering how long would the preliminary work take, so he asked the foreman on the field.

"How long will issa take? Da High House of Duros will want issa ready as soon as possible"

"Maybe 2-3 weeks"

 

[Miel Tevv]

Objective: Starshipwright - Buy up some orbital real estate
Allies: GA and Friends


Docking Bay 1436-C
Bburru Station, Duro
The Core

"Back on Bbburru, baby!" Nathanos apparently felt so exuberant that he hopped as he walked, kicking his feet together as he did so, "Man it feels good to be back!"

"Didn't take you for such a durophile, Darksword," Director Miel Tevv of SoroSuub Corporation chuckled at the antics of his right hand man and analyst. The sight had been made all the more ridiculous by the finely tailored, elegant yet professional suits the two of them were wearing. As it was their first day on Duro, today they would have only a brief time to settle in before they were off to one meeting after another. There were High House officials to meet with, trade guild representatives and union leaders, not to mention locations to scout as well as notable industry figures to look in on if they hoped to maintain or establish a positive relationship.

"The duros are an unsung people, Miel," the Hapan at his side clasped his hand down upon his friend's much smaller Sullustan shoulder, "Sure, most of em spent their whole life packed into space stations like aqualish, but man do they know how to party! And we've landed on race day of all days!"

"I take it the Classic is a big deal around here, then," they didn't have far to go before the signs of jubilation backed up the sub-director's enthusiastic nods, "Maybe we should meet with some of the event organizers, arrange a sponsorship deal for next time or something. Never too early to start earning good will with the people."

"Already on the itinerary," Nathanos winked at him, covertly lighting a cigarra despite the nearby signage displaying station ordinances to the contrary.

Behind them, the mostly Sullustan crew of the Director's Luxury Yacht 5000 were hard at work carrying out their post-flight duties in securing the vessel and having the executives' luggage shipped to their hotel. The Belefonte gleamed in the artificial lighting of the Bburru hangar bay, smoke billowing from her ports only to be whisked away by hyper-efficient station air recyclers. A brief turbolift ride later, and they were in the city proper. The subterranean cities of his homeworld were one of the wonders of the galaxy, but the sight of another took the Sullustan businessman's breath away. The duros sure knew how to build em.

 

[Ultimatum]

Location: T-32 (Duro)
Intentions: Assist in reconstruction to gain access to the funding of the Galactic Alliance (Starshipwright)
Allies: Galactic Alliance, Associates

Work continued, as was to be expected. While organic crews might have taken far longer, Ultimatum's artificial workers were more efficient, and they were working with such simple materials as metal. It was easy to mold, quick to set, and simple in its manipulation. Thanks to the inclusion of molecular furnaces with his work ships, the production of building materials would be far shorter than waiting for a supply vessel.

That was something Ultimatum looked forward to bringing to most organic worlds. The technology of rearranging atoms and molecules, that was perfect for recycling. The reuse of resources was key to prolonging the inevitable entropy build up. Taking any waste, organic or artificial, and turning into something that is useful, building materials, perhaps someday food. At this point the technology was still being developed, Ultimatum hoped to create someway of building organic constructs rather than merely inorganic. That was the hope anyways.

 

[Asmus Janes]

The Bburru Classic

[member="Allyson Locke"]

Asmus had been briefed on what had happened to Allyson. It didn't prepare him for seeing her roll his name around in her mouth as if it was an unfamiliar thing. He recalled her repeating his name until it was too much of a strain to even speak, her fingers laced through his hair and holding him tight. That sudden, visceral image made him feel a pang of guilt. They were both upfront, honest people.

"It's good to see you Allyson," he replied. He offered a warm smile and tipped his drink towards her. Where did you even start with something like this? He wasn't here in a GADF or even SIS capacity, instead acting in his capacity as an Incom test pilot. The cover made it easier for the GA to deny his operation should it go wrong. Behind him there was some commotion as the crowd move for the windows. One of the warm up races was going, lower class ships with limited output cut through the course and passed the tower.

"Add that one to my tab," he said to the bartender when he returned. He offered Allyson a shrug. "Company account. So how have you been?"

 

[Allyson Locke]

The Bburru Classic

Allyson stared at the man’s face, registering it and pulling at memories that felt so faded in the back of her mind. She studied him and the moment his lips curled around the syllables that made her name – the memory of their meeting hit her like a destroyer. Her face blushed her eyes widened as she had quickly and vividly remembered the feel of his body against hers along with the surge of emotions she felt when around the former Rogue pilot. The Corellian returned the warm smile as she did her best to collect herself.

Asmus was the one in her opinion got away. Even if coming together was an explosion, it was quite the explosion and she would never forget it. The alcohol met her lips as she sipped and rested the glass against the bar top. The corner of her bottom lip found its way between her teeth as she let out a nervous laugh. “I’m doing a lot better, Asmus.” Her lips forming each letter of his name continued to bring the familiarity back to her. He knew her and could probably read her better than most, Kaili had caught up quickly to the scoundrel’s ability to read Allyson. She was an honest girl and he would be aware that she completely remembered him, in all his glory...

“Of course, I’ve seen better days, kind of gotten myself sucked into something I’m not sure I can really survive, but it’s all for the greater good…and the credits I think.” She furrowed her brow for a moment as she tried to recall the reason she joined up with the SIS, but that reason seemed lost in the wind – still she knew she enjoyed the work, but it was really in the end what she could do to help. Another sip and her hand pushing back stray strands of her chestnut hair. A familiar smirk spread across her face as she leaned slightly towards the other pilot. “I’ve missed you, [member="Asmus Janes"]. How have you kept yourself out of trouble?”

Allyson knew she was treading dangerous yet rather attractive waters, she was with Kaili – but Asmus had that rather warm spot in her heart.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[SIZE=18pt]God in the Machine[/SIZE]

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Archim Calixis"]

“Can’t get a fix on the signal sir,” called the technician after a few moments.

“He’s not far…” Jacen trailed off. “Can we send back a message?”

The technician sighed and held his hands out wide. Clearly he was being asked to do duties that were beyond his remit and capabilities. The man next to him piped up instead. “No sir, but we can leave a message on our systems they could pick up if they try again?”

Jacen smiled. “Dear Coren, Jacen Voidstalker would like a word. At your convenience.”

“Done.”

“Marshal Voidstalker!” called another voice.

Jacen turned to see one of the marine officers who worked with the bridge crew moving in his direction. “Yes Major?”

“Drones went dark not long after being deployed, but we got these back…” he trailed off and held out a datapad. Disturbing images flashed across the screen. Messages laid out in blood and oil. Crude cyborgs chasing after the hovering drone.

“Get the entire Company ready for deployment. I’ll be coming myself.” Unless he was going to help the meeting with Coren would have to wait. If that had really been him.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective: Observation

Coren was still working the hacks, even when his droid was starting to lose hope. Normally the brute force didn’t take this long, but it seemed that the Alliance security was fighting his droid. Good, meant someone was manning the desk back at command. Perfect. He’d have to take a new plan of attack sooner or later. But for now? He’d let Porter conclude his runtime and see what happened.
And that was when the droid and then Lexi both popped in and announced a message. Without waiting for Coren’s go-ahead, it started to play.

“Ah, Voidstalker. Good, he’s still there.” Right, he was talking to droids. Didn’t matter. “Lexi, compose a reply.” The VI of the ship gave him the affirmative response and the pilot started speaking.

“At your earliest convenience, Voidstalker. Just give me a destination.” The pilot nodded and went back to his seat.

He supposed he’d wait, and orbit the listening post, watch the race.

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Location: Duro
Objective: Starshipwright (Pizza Hutt)
Allies: GA and friends

2-3 weeks just to get the roof up to standard... the place must have been pretty run-down, or the conditions inside Bburru Station makes it difficult for duracrete to properly cure. Usually not doing anything for one week is recommended after the concrete has been poured in a place that has no downpours like Bburru Station, but dry air might be at play here. But with that said, pouring duracrete is the fast part, and tending to the proper curing of duracrete is the excruciatingly slow one. They were to use hoversleds for days after the duracrete was poured, and only resume the work 2-3 weeks later. Plumbing, wiring, and other utilities no one would realize the work that goes into it until one had to actually perform it. Utilities everyone on the station takes for granted. And, unfortunately, even the Duros still left inside the station after all those years still seemed to take utilities for granted as well.

"Yousa realize that's 2-3 weeks before wesa can get da utilities done, but wesa understand since itsa would be no good for da High House of Duros if theirsa stuff breaks down before itsa even begin to operate"

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Objective: God in the Machine
Allies: [member="HK-36"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], GA and Friends (None Nearby)


Auxiliary Maintenance Shaft F-19
Orasu Space City, Duro
The Core

"Error. Error," Archim's vocoder emitted of its own accord, ​"System malfunction. Search and destroy protocols activated. Failsafes not responding."

"Leave me alone!"

It had been a long time since the Iskalloni had experienced a sensation resembling physical pain. So long, he had almost forgotten the feeling. He remembered now. A prisoner inside a body that was no longer entirely his own, seemingly every system and subroutine that governed his elaborate prostheses were under assault. Given that more than ninety percent of the Metal Lord was artificial, he was now literally no longer in control of his own actions. Struggling against what felt like thousands of data spikes working in unison to subvert his programming, it was all the cyborg could do to shield his vital cognitive functions from being overwritten, or worse.

"Error. Erro-01100010 01101111 01101111 01110100," at last, Lord Calixis managed to reestablish control of his vocal functions, "Hello? Can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened here? What is happening?"

Only silence greeted him in reply, save the whirring of the servo-motors in his leg units, his chassis still stalking the station maintenance corridors. The duros survivor had no reason to trust him, in fact giving away his position by responding could be a potentially costly mistake. Archim had no idea what this unknown interloper, this Black Signal would have him do when he finally tracked down his prey. But given the scene he had just rescued the crewman from he suspected he had no desire to find out. Still, with few other options open to him given his current predicament, the hijacked cyborg continued anyway.

"You're right, I'm like them. A cyborg," he called out into the silence, "But not from here, from outside. I came in after the station went dark. When that...thing cried out earlier, something in the time signature...a signal. It is irrelevant, what matters is it got in. Its trying to take control of my programming, control of me. If I find you, I will probably try to kill, or convert you. But I still want to help you, and I may be the only one who can."

For a long time, there was nothing, and then finally a faint voice called out, "How?"

"My systems are capable of triangulating your position based on sound," he called back in response, "You should relocate, quietly. I do not believe I am capable of reasserting control on my own, but if I can hold out long enough I may be able to repair the damage to my communications systems, get a message to the outside. Anything you can tell me that might be relevant, any information or warning to rescue operators you can provide. Be concise, the longer you speak the easier it will be for me to track you."

"Don't trust them!" the voice cried out again, this time from a different direction, "Don't let them touch you!"

"Tracking...relocate."

"Everything living, they hunt!" this time from farther away, it seemed, "They make like them!"

"Tracking...that's what the others were doing before?" the Metal Lord asked, "Trying to convert you? Augment you?"

"Yes!" this time closer, but from another direction, "Convert or kill, all they know! Fanatics!"

"Tracking...do you know how it started? What its all for?"

"Sacrifice! Ma..." the voice cut off abruptly.

"Hello? What kind of sacrifice? Of what, for who?"

But there was only silence. Long, painful silence, until Archim's aural sensors picked up the sound of metal scraping against deck plating. On a display superimposed upon his ocular feed, several green blips appeared in close proximity, signifying the position of nearby allies. Considering the malicious nature of whatever had infected his programming, combined with the cryptic warnings of the duros survivor, Calixis surmised that these so called allies were probably not so friendly after all.

And yet, despite his best efforts to the contrary, his legs were moving entirely of their own accord directly towards them, rapidly closing the distance between the two. Helpless to do anything but hasten himself along to his own demise, Archim struggled to purge his communications suite of corrupted code long enough to at least get a distress call out. It would likely be too late to change his imminent fate, but there was much the Metal Lord could do to warn those who came next. To relay what little he had learned.

A twisted mass of augments and what used to be a duros face rounded the corner, and the Iskalloni knew he was out of time.

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Allyson Locke"]

“Oh that doesn’t sound like something I’d try to do,” he replied with a smirk. He turned away from her gaze for a few seconds as three more racers streaked past the tower. One was pushing his ship too far and it was a wonder he just missed the next tower of the floating city.

“I’ve been working for Incom as a test pilot,” he replied. He wasn’t here as SIS, not was it sensible to talk about such matters in the location. It wasn’t cleared for talking about sensitive information. “It pays better than the GADF did and I get to fly the interesting ships before anyone else does. Assuming of course they don’t kill me, because then no one else gets to fly them…”

He gave a little shrug as if falling from the sky in a ball of fire was an amusing matter. “Here to try and sell one of them back to my old bosses. It’s good to see you too Allyson. I heard about the station. Given everything you seem well. I mean you’re here,” he said as he waved up and down to indicate her. “In one piece, no parts missing and on your feet.” He hoped that she hadn’t lost a limb and been given a prosthetic and he’d just put his foot in his mouth.

 

[Miel Tevv]

Objective: Starshipwright - Buy up some orbital real estate
Allies: GA and Friends


Passenger Bay, Crix-class Shuttle
Duro Starshipwright Shipyards
The Core

Despite the long day of visits and meetings, events and aircab rides, Director Tevv still had enough left in him to be amazed at the scale of the orbital structure that stretched out before him. While whole sections were indeed apparently dark and without power, as Nathanos had said, even in its current state of relative disrepair it easily still rivaled the SoroSuub yards above Sullust. Nursing a cocktail in on hand, he held a datapad in the other which he glanced at occasionally in between taking in the spectacle just to keep an eye on the markets. The job of a Bomewright executive never turned off, it was in his people's industrious nature.

Across from him, still strapped in from the takeoff procedures, was a still faintly snoring Hapan. Whatever Darksword had taken before they had landed on Bburru was apparently starting to wear off, and the crash had been sudden. The subdirector had been practically mid sentence when he had dozed off, and Miel had let his friend sleep through the rest of the short journey from Duro's capital station to the orbital position of the yards. He kicked the man's shins now softly, jolting him into a state of instinctive feigned alert, followed quickly by features sagging into grogginess.

"We there yet?" he mumbled, and seemed genuinely surprised when Miel bobbed his head affirmatively in response.

Fumbling for something in his suit pockets, Nathanos produced what looked like an eye dropped, and carefully squirted drops of an uncertain substance into each eye. His whole demeanor changed quite suddenly, and all at once he was his old self again. Practically bouncing up and down in his seat in his eagerness to get on board and start making deals. The way Darksword had explained it to him, in exchange for promises of credits and manpower in restoring Starshipwright to its former glory, the conglomerate in charge was offering corporations significant stakes in the enterprise. Enough for SoroSuub to further expand its interests into the Core, begin manufacturing from multiple locations.

A win win, as his Hapan subordinate had called it.

"You're going to go blind if you keep overdoing it with that stuff," Miel said at last, with all the conviction a fellow substance abuser could muster.

"Then you'll just have to buy me a fancy pair of robot eyes," Nathanos chirped back in chipper response, "I want laser beams!"

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

[member="HK-36"]

"You'd be surprised by what's in my pants there cupcake." She winked at him, like he'd know what to do with an 'organic' anyhow. She smiled, "Cultists you say, well well I've always enjoyed the idea of ruining someone's party. This should be fun"

She walked along a bit more hop in her step as she thought about making folks miserable that were mean themselves you know spoil their idea of fun, "Will we get to mess with their minds some? What do they believe? Can we convince them I"m a goddess, and that they are ALL to kneel..hmmm" The excitement was in her voice yes this could be fun.

"I knew I should have worn something else...well feth.."

She smiled all cutesy like at folks they walked by, their heads turned, Rekha laughed, "What do you think they are thinking? Hmm I"m going with....they want to know if we are doing it." She tiled her head, "what do you think?"

He was mechanical, maybe he did some people watching....well organic watching.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Allyson nodded, Asmus had changed a lot from the last thing she remembered about him. There was an odd sense of maturity too that seemed rather new. She wondered if it was because of his responsibilities and if there was more to his job than what he was telling her. Either way, they were honest people especially to each other for the most part. If he was wanting to say something he would have and if he couldn’t he wasn’t going to. She let it go and decided not to push the issue of her gut feeling. Taking a sip of the whiskey she smiled happily. It was good and there was no dime wasted when stocking this bar.

At the mention of ‘not losing limbs’ Allyson frowned. She looked down at her feet and then back at Asmus. Everything went dark on her face as she looked at the amber liquid in her glass. “They say…when they found me floating in space – all that was left of me was from the mid-thigh up…” Once more she looked down at her feet and sighed. “Walking was a really really hard thing to relearn, but those prosthetic people know what they’re doing…”

She waited for his response and then smiled. “I’m kidding…I’m all natural still. Don’t worry – I’m good at keeping my limbs obviously.” Allyson looked towards the glass windows and sighed softly. She thought about his new job again as a test pilot which reminded her of her job before all of this.

“Flying. I remember the feeling – it felt free, right? When I left the Alliance hospital they handed me a copy of what I assumed was my file. Stated I was a pilot – I remember flying my personal ship just an X-Wing not so much.” Another sip and she shrugged. “Apparently, I favored the X-Wing.” Allyson found the thought odd, still that’s apparently what she did in her previous life to this moment. “I do miss being thirteen though and its odd being nine now – especially since that was your number.” She did remember a little bit, it was fragmented, but she remembered.

“Speaking of flying, I’m supposed to be doing training with one of the guys – he’s not on the squad, but he’s supposed to help me rehabilitate – terrible and I feel his eyes on me even when I’m not in the room.” Allyson stuck out her tongue to emphasis her complete disgust over this. Shaking her head, she looked towards Asmus and raised her eye brows. “Is Incom hiring?” [member="Asmus Janes"]

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Allyson Locke"]

Asmus listen to her explain how she had been found, aghast. He didn't hide the expression of horror, his eyes widening before his expression turned to pity. When the joke was revealed his placed a palm on his chest and bent over, exhaling sharply

"Oh that was not funny!" he said sharply, yet a smile returned to his face easily. "Legs like those shouldnt be lost." He added. So it was so bad that she was reading about her past from a file. The thought terrified him. What was he if not his memories and experiences? Asmus took a long swig of beer.

"Nine eh? You take good care of here when you get spacebourne again." As far as he knew the model he had flown wqs actually still in tact. She would be in the same seat he had occupied.

"Truthfully we don't hire much. But then...what I do have is a two seater Incom X7 in the hangar with a full tank of fuel." His grin was full of mischief.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

“Oh that doesn’t sound like something I’d try to do,” he replied with a smirk. He turned away from her gaze for a few seconds as three more racers streaked past the tower. One was pushing his ship too far and it was a wonder he just missed the next tower of the floating city.

The young clone trooper in the co-pilot's seat had almost wet himself.

Which, was absolutely not helping the situation. The ion drive was in the red, the lateral controls had just gone on smoke break, and... No, seriously, there was smoke. And maybe fire as well. But I digress...

Pulling the controls over hard, the two-headed Anzat narrowly missed the collision with the tower as the YT-2400 skimmed the surface near enough to scrape some of the paint off the underside of the Alderaan Queen.

Objective: The Bburru Classic
Allies: The Galactic Alliance and Friends!

Buy Corellian, they said.

Best light freighters in the galaxy, they said.

Yeah, and just ignore that the only thing holding the transmission in place was mesh tape and prayer. Lots and lots of prayer.

Even still, he'd never be caught dead in some Nubian J-type. Why? Because he was Corellian. Sure, their ships were actually flying train wrecks. But only Corellians were allowed to think that. And they could actually make the train wreck work on occasion.

Sometimes.

Of course, Sor-Jan hadn't actually paid for the Alderaan Queen. He went used starship shopping the Corellian Way! He won the ship in a Sabaac game. One in which he'd been cheating the entire time. So, he hadn't won it as much as he'd swindled someone out of it. In which case, he had even less of a reason to complain about any shortcomings.

Easing back on the throttle, the boy wrestled with the uncooperative light freighter to try and stabilize the flight path. The ship maneuvered like a flying brick, but she was damn fast. And this was a race, so... nothing else to do but punch it and pray.

Again, much prayer. Many hope.

 

[Miel Tevv]

Objective: Starshipwright - Buy up some orbital real estate
Allies: GA and Friends, [member="Ultimatum"] (In Area)


Observation Dome
Duros Starshipwright Shipyards

"So I was thinking we stick with the cloudscraper on Bburru for now while our engineers help with the repairs, get a yard or two of our own for our trouble," Nathanos was lounging on his back on a stack of crates, taking a swig from his flask, "and then we build our own station. Nothing too gargantuan like these space cities, but a little piece of Sorosuub in the Duro sky. What do you think?"

"Do we really need more than a branch in their capital?" Miel on the other hand was upright, watching the work proceed on their assigned portion of the shipyards far off in the distance, "You're sure we should invest so much here?"

Others had come to take advantage of the same offer their had, corporate conglomerates and venture capitalists, even the mysterious, newly emergent Metal Lords held an active interest in the restoration process, so Tevv and Darksword had just learned in their meeting with Reconstruction Command. Despite Sorosuub's resources and reputation for efficiency, a single contingent of the droidkind had not only beaten them there, but were capable of working at a much faster pace. The Sullustans weren't looking for a monopoly on Duro orbital manufacturing, but the Director thought that perhaps he should reach out to their leader to gauge the extent of LOOM's interest in the facilities. Perhaps an agreement could be reached between the two.

"Its right on the Trade Spine, a waypoint between Sullust and Coruscant," Nathanos reason as much to himself as to the Director as Miel tried to work out how to go about touching base with a robot overlord, "Far enough from First Order space, nothing but friendly faces as far as the eye can see to the galactic east. Plus, everything points to our new neighbors playing host to an economic hotbed over there. Its a tech boom on a truly next level scale, we're gonna want some access to those markets."

From what he could see out the observation bubble, to Director Tevv that part looked true enough. So far, one of the few things the Alliance knew about the Metal Lords was that they were great builders. Evidence of their almost disturbingly supernatural capacities for engineering feats was right before his eyes. Much closer by, a corporate armada of tender ships and salvage vessels bore the SoroSuub corporate logo and the Alliance starbird.

"We need to expand," Miel acknowledged, "Our holdings on Sullust are no longer as secure as they once were. And there are still untapped markets all across Federation space."

"In my evaluation, this is the next step," was the Hapan statistician's frank response.

"Then, to the next step."

 

[Ugohr Poof]

Location: Duro
Objective: Starshipwright (Pizza Hutt)
Allies: GA and friends

In the interim, he could also look at leasing commercial space to open a Pizza Hutt, and also order the kitchen equipment for the resulting restaurant; it should be up in a single day or two. He knew that Pizza Hutt locations were the rage all across Alliance space, so looking for one more location to lease, large enough to play host to roughly 200 seats, almost as if a family restaurant, plus a takeout section. So he had his project assistant order without delay the kitchen equipment, from Duro if possible, and he would go to great lengths to ensure that the locals' needs are satisfied. Use of local stuff is a common condition; he was browsing the commercial listings and took note of the address of the place, hopefully some distance away from Killarney Drive but not too far. Because of the municipal ordinances, whereby Killarney Drive was surrounded by other industrial-zoned land for a distance, he had to endure fairly large distances between the commercial areas and the industrial areas.

"Are you sure about this? Are you sure the Hutts will allow you to do this, or the High House of Duros?" the administrative assistant questioned.

"Da High House of Duros will accept, mesa sure. Place disen orders, on da double!"

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Objective: God in the Machine
Allies: [member="HK-36"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], GA and Friends


When the first cultist rounded the station corridor, Archim thought it was the end for him.

Almost nine centuries of experience and perspective, wasted. True, much of the irrelevant data from his first few centuries had been purged from his neuro-cache, but there was still much the Iskalloni had witnessed that he would wish to preserve, for the education of others yet to come. The Metal Lord had been halfway through working out the most secure way to safeguard the most critical bytes from their imminent destruction, when he noticed ocular readings from his visual augments that told him the cyborgs did not seem to be moving aggressively. The first passed him by without so much as a second glance, it was only then that Archim realized they recognized him as one of their own.

Unable to prevent it from happening, he stifled a noise of alarm when his metal frame turned and his prosthetic legs fell into step as the rearguard of the contingent. He was still trapped, and the Black Signal was still burning its way system by system towards the cyborg's higher cognitive processes, but at least he wasn't dead. Nevertheless, if he didn't figure something out soon he may as well be. Able to come up with no better plan than his original strategy for the moment, Calixis continued in his attempts to stabilize his communications software long enough to get a transmission off the station. With any luck, the cultists wouldn't think to jam one of their own, but he did not think he would get a second try.

As he booted the comm back up free of the voices that had until now been pleading with him to let go, another more immediate concern occurred to the Metal Lord. The moment he tried to call out, his comrades just ahead of him would most likely realize something was up. Figuring that was bound to happen sooner or later anyway, and with not much time to decide before he lost the ability again forever, Archim decided that he would risk it. It took him a few moments to plan exactly what to say and the most efficient way to say it, and then he activated his vocoder.

Distorted static punctuated by melodic tones pierced the maintenance shaft, lasting exactly two point zero five seconds before the transmission terminated.

"This is a general alert to any Metal Lord command units in the area," he had said, in a highly compressed form of disused droid shorthand known as clickwise. Relayed through the long range comms onboard the Motive Force, a new message pinged on [member="HK-36"]'s feed, "Orasu is not safe for our kind. Do not let them touch you. Do not let them speak to you. There is something in the signal, something alive. Will attempt escape, success unlikely, advise destroying the station with baradium charges."

Before the electronic noise had even ceased, the duros marching before him had stopped, and so had he. As one, they turned to stare at the Iskalloni with equal measure incomprehension and malevolent hate. Glancing back and forth between each other as if in search for an explanation, they all simply stood there for a few moments in the silent space city service corridor, and Archim began to get the distinct impression that they were all communicating with someone else. Something else.

At last, the lead unit approached him almost uncertaintly, and opened her mouth to speak, "01110111 01101000 01111001"

When he did not answer, she repeated the binarrhic cant, and then, also as one, they drew their knives.