Private Reforging History

[Dak]

​

Location: Interplanetary Space < Tython system < Deep Core
Currently Aboard Dak's JC-747 “Nox”-class Raider Corvette
Objective: En route to Sunspot
------------------------------
Akash Guul Arken Lussk

​

It was already approaching the 7th hour since the corvette dropped out of hyperspace in the Tython system and began its sublight voyage. With the density of stars in the Galactic center, Deep Core hyperspace navigation was considered extremely dangerous. Rather than risking a direct jump to their destination, Dak had opted to utilize the navigational data from his recent expedition to Tython and take the longer, safer route from there. The preliminary scans along the journey had confirmed the report the droid received weeks before: an active structure was present in a fixed orbit of the meager, molten world of Sunspot. Dak had high hopes that the Navigators he consulted were accurate in their speculations; that the station may be a vestige of the ancient Clockwork Rebellion.

Faced with the personal goal of securing this potential asset, Dak decided it was best to arrange and oversee the operation outside of the direct influence of the Grayson Imperium. The fledgling empire was still gripped with internal conflict as those who bent the knee to the Lord-Imperator wrestled for power, and the droid held little interest in the struggles of Kings and Men. The idea of recruiting simple mercenaries seemed like a pleasant break from the nobles and mystics that had been his recent company. A “breath of fresh air”, as organics say. But when a young Mandalorian and a renowned slicer answered the call, Dak was quick to secure their contracts and begin.

The two had been collected on the Imperium capital of Coruscant. 25% credit payout upfront, the remaining to be released upon completion of the task. Supply restocks were to be provided, along with food and necessities for the travel. Room for the negotiation was also left open if presented with “unanticipated circumstances”. Perhaps it was his etiquette protocols getting the best of him, but Dak considered it more valuable to keep the guns he’d hired well compensated while at his side than risk losing their satisfaction. After all; reputation meant everything in business, and organics were prone to being emotional under stress.

With the corvette dominated by a mostly droid crew, many of the personal quarters were left completely empty. To ensure their comfort throughout the long flight, both Jair and Arken had been assigned one to themselves. Dak, however, had set himself up in the conference room of the Officer's Quarters for the entirety of the trip thus far.

Now, with only an hour or two left in their approach, it was time to begin a proper introduction and briefing. Escorted only casually by two human armsmen, the mercenaries are brought into the dimly lit war room and put face-to-face with the ancient droid who'd hired them for the first time.

The old DAC stands waiting, arms held behind his back as he watches them enter the room. "I am DAC-1.P028," he greets, giving a small nod to accompany the words "but you may call me Dak." He shifts his gaze to their side and gestures to the table for them to choose a seat "Your reputations precede you, mercenaries. I am honoured to have you."

 

[Akash Guul]

Too many unknown variables.

That sole fact nearly dissuaded him from picking up the job. He’d mulled over that and the generous reward for a long time before the tempting smell of credits won him over. Lately, he’d been more or less cash-stricken. Recent jobs offered little pay and as usual most of it went back home to clan Ordo, to the shattered cause of the Mandalorians. This was the way, after all.

This job’s reward offered a good chunk of money which he would also use to finally get a good Mando smith patch up his durasteel armor. With the fall of Mand’yaim and its beskar mines to the Sith, not many Mandalorians could afford the traditional full set of actual beskar’gam. Jair had to settle on a beskar helm but nothing more than that. His armor, although, clearly of Mandalorian creation and design could not keep him alive as well as a set of pure Mandalorian steel.

His private quarters’ intercom rang summoning him to the conference room of the corvette. Jair slung the long pulse canon rifle on his back, adjusted his blaster pistol’s holster, tightened the Mandalorian vambrace across his forearm and put on his long and tattered cloak once more. He looked down at the hole on his chest plate, the result of a hit he sustained from Sith Legionnaires on Centares. That job, for its risk, hardly paid enough for him to fix it.

“Let’s get this job done and fix that.” he reassured himself on the decision to accept the vaguely described job and left towards the conference room.

As the droid introduced itself, Jair took a seat across from it, as beckoned. He glanced at the other hired man across but without even faintly moving his head - the benefits of the wide lens of his visor.

“Jair. Jair Ordo.” the Mandalorian introduced himself although he immediately realized the droid was already aware of his identity. He tried shoving the embarrassing moment away by shooting straight to the task. “What are we blasting, hoss?”

[member="Dak"] [member="Arken Lussk"]

 

[Arken Lussk]

Boredom. As funny as it seemed, it motivated him.

Between the grueling tasks of running one of the galaxy's most successful tech companies and batting away fangirls, it seemed like there was never any reprieve for poor Arken. He could've taken the easy way out and blame his father for all of this, for leaving, but he couldn't. In a way, the mundaneness of his life provided a sense of normalcy. It was hardly something comparable to the average twenty three year old. He had a job, he had quite a few friends, and he had high hopes and dreams for the future.

Be that as it may, Arken always needed a little spice in his life. Something that didn't pertain to managing Aegis' stocks or organizing meetings with businessbeings three times his age.

While he would've preferred a night spent out at town, the offer of taking a job like when he was younger struck a chord with him.

--------​

"I'm dying."

"Observation: No, master, I do not believe you are."

Arken raised a brow, flicking a gaze over to Victor. Silence and stillness replied to him, though he could've swore he saw the droid shrug his shoulders.

The young man exhaled sharply, "Its like these people don't have a galley or anything. I am starving."

"Secondary Observation: Master, they-"

"I know they're also droids, but still." He shifted in the bed, flicking away aimlessly at his datapad, "Couldn't hurt to be a little more thoughtful."

A rapping of knuckles came from the door, signalling Arken's prompt attention. Grunting, he slipped the leather jacket onto his frame and tucked his shades into the collar of his shirt. Deft fingers combed through his hair swiftly, then came the test smile in the mirror. Picture perfect, as usual.

"I'll be back. Sit tight and don't ruin anything."

"Acknowledgement: No promises."

------------​

​

The meet and greet that they had was as normal and stereotyped as could be. The droid mastermind behind the plan, the muscle with a pulse rifle slung across his back, and the hyper-intelligent and oh-so charming slicer. A trio of bad mistakes and unfortunate circumstances, yet fate had brought them together to either cause a ruckus or make a helluva lot of money.

Arken was down for either.

"It's nice to meet you gentlemen."

[member="Dak"], [member="Jair Ordo"]

 

[Dak]

Akash Guul Arken Lussk
​

Allowing a moment for the two to make themselves comfortable, Dak dismisses the armsmen that had accompanied them and returns to his post at the head of the conference table. He glances down, looking over the collection of data slates he had been sifting through until only a few moments ago. Firsthand accounts, historical records and expert speculations of the artificial entity once known to the galaxy as Omni. He held no real opinion of the old A.I., and until these recently he’d never even heard of this ‘Clockwork Rebellion’. Omni’s motivations were ill-aligned, but insight into its methods peaked Dak’s interest.

“I apologies for the secrecy thus far,” the droid speaks, reaching forward to key at the control panel for the center-mounted holo-projector “but I consider this discovery to be both an invaluable asset and an object of great personal interest. If you are unaware, things have been tremulous in this region lately.”

With a few strokes a deep under-glow flickers on and animates a blue filtered, static-lined projection of the planet Sunspot between the three of them. “I assure you, mercenaries, my primary objective was simply to minimize the risk of this information leaking. However, I understand that such conditions may arouse concern and suspicion.”

The droid’s receptors scan the looming hologram with scrutiny as he makes a few final adjustments at the keypad. The planet shrinks – shifts off-centre – shrinks again – again – then, finally, the scanners detect a small satellite object passing in orbit, barely perceptible on the grainy image. The computer targets it immediately, honing the display on the location and rapidly rendering it until the image of a fully intact orbital facility rotates slowly at the center of the table.

Without breaking his sight from the hologram, Dak continues “I located this object of interest seventeen days ago. Careful analysis of the data I collected, paired with a review from an Imperium contact in the Navigator’s Guild, has determined a strong correlation between this structure and the droid manufacturing facilities utilized by a rogue A.I. that ravaged the galaxy centuries ago.”

The droid lifts a hand and points to the flickering projection “We will secure this facility and you will be compensated as agreed. Energy readings have confirmed that the factory has remained powered, even after all this time. The probability of an active defense system is high, but our targeted scans to confirm have returned heavily distorted.”

“The interference appears to stem from,” he pauses, adjusting the projection to highlight and focus on the lower section of the orbital “here. Radiation – inconsistent with common reactor types. Electromagnetic, specifically.”

 

[Akash Guul]

The Mandalorian carefully listened to the droid's explanation as he watched the hologram change various shapes in tone with Dak. The Clockwork Rebellion was something Jair had read about occasionally, not as much as the fiction around it - like Droidmageddon, but he maybe knew about it just a drop more than the average joe in the galaxy. Whatever the truth around Omni and the Clockwork Rebellion were, the stories were frightening. Sometimes, he thought, this galaxy's too big for comfort.

From Dak's explanation one thing still remained a secret, whether intentional or not mattered little and the Mandalorian delved into it straight:

"I am gonna go out on a limb here and say you want to...confiscate, for a lack of a better term, this facility." he said. To destroy it, Dak wouldn't really need to be boarding anything. Before someone could interrupt him, he carried on. "And you don't have to worry about any state secrets or other weird political terms you aruetii keep coming up to make your lives complicated - I don't care what you want with it."

"What I care is the exact objective of this job. Purge it from any defenses within and serve up on a plate?" the Mandalorian didn't really care what Dak wanted to do with it. To him it only mattered what Dak wanted them to do with it. "Sounds good to me but much of the technicalities, like the radiation you mentioned, escape me."

The T-visor jerked towards the other hired man. Maybe he had something to add on that.

[member="Dak"] [member="Arken Lussk"]

 

[Arken Lussk]

He'd read about the Omni Crisis and the Clockwork Rebellion back in school. It had occurred long, long before he was ever conceived though his father never really spoke about it. Many good men had perished fighting the good fight, thwarting enormous legions of droids and hellish machinations that threatened the Imperial Sith territory as best as they could. It was one thing to tussle with the empire, and an entirely different matter when an unknown source launched a multi-fronted invasion overnight.

They weren't prepared. Nobody was. Billions lost their lives in the matter of days.

If anything, the trio here was ensuring that didn't happen again - or so Arken figured. It wasn't his place to determine if his employer's hands were good enough to secure and maintain the facility.

Arken suppressed the shiver that dared to run up his spine.

"I have a very specific sets of technical skills, so getting inside and out shouldn't be an issue." He finally spoke. "Whether you want this to be a loud operation or not is entirely up to you, but I'd rather not die. That'd ruin my day."

The slicer smiled. Lots of folks underestimated the options that Mechu-deru provided.

[member="Jair Ordo"], [member="Dak"]

 

[Dak]

Akash Guul Arken Lussk
​

If these men proved to be as skilled as they were confident, Dak predicted the mission would be an outstanding success. So far, their responses had been exactly what he’d hoped for.

“You will find me quite forthcoming with any information you believe to be valuable, Mandalorian,” he finally takes a seat and dismisses the holo-display “I understand your kind may show reluctance with aiding a droid in the acquisition of technology famous for the attempted genocide of organics,” his receptors shift to Arken, knowing the slicer had a particularly fluent understanding of artificial intelligence.

The argument of sentience aside, Dak was intelligence enough to understand the various perceptions of droids across the galaxy. Most thought nothing of them, considering them to simply be advanced tools. Oddly enough, Dak agreed with this analysis for the most part. Despite his perceived self-awareness, Dak still considered the even most advanced artificial intelligence to be nothing more than replication and not true, sentient life. Though for reasons unexplained, he’d found himself buffering this question in his primary performance banks more often lately.

While most looked at droids with complete disregard and some valued them as equals, Dak also knew there were those who feared them, or even hated them. Omni had not been the first artificial being to wreak havoc, nor was it likely it'd be the last.

“Our goals align with the preservation of our lives,” Dak jokes, despite his tone remaining the same "and I've established three objectives to ensure this.

The first; we must de-active the facility’s internal defensive systems. The environment will be hostile enough between the radiation leak and lack of suitable atmosphere for the two of you. The faster we eliminate the added threat of autoturrets and other security measures, the better.

Second; any droids onsite are likely to have received significant corruption, both from time and from the electromagnetic radiation. Any active units will need to be disposed of.

And third; we must locate and eliminate the source of the electromagnetic radiation. This is particularly dangerous for my kind, and is essential to re-activating the droid production.”

He pauses, looking between the two mercs, “while I will be joining you in your efforts aboard, I understand that you are the experts in the matter. I will bring my knowledge of this installation and combat protocols, but I will allow the two of you to determine the best methods of achieving this tasks. But please consider that a loss of the station’s function will void our contractual obligations.”

 

[Arken Lussk]

Arken swept a hand through his hair, sighing as the droid listed the numerous defensive measures and obstacles they'd have to overcome. Tackling the literal birthplace of something that nearly turned the galaxy into a lifeless husk was nothing short of unnerving. It had been far too long since the young man had been thrust out of the creature comforts that his usual life afforded, and into something of a fething nightmare.

Not to mention the fact that he'd volunteered for this.

At least he had Victor to watch his back, if nothing else.

"Doesn't sound too out of the ordinary for what it's worth," the young man eased back into that calm, collected facade. "I wouldn't expect there to be anything less for a facility such as this one. Shouldn't be too hard, considering I doubt most of their security mechanisms are up to par with today's countermeasures and techniques."

Slicing 101. The electronic security measures probably hadn't been hardened or updated in decades, so getting in without a sound would be easy peasy. Or so he hoped.

[member="Dak"]

 

[Akash Guul]

Jair listened to the carefully laid out plan and glanced at both droid and slicer. A lot of it hanged on the latter's hands and while it was something that slightly displeased him, Ordo knew he had to be really focused in keeping chit of the man's back when it came to it. Like most Mandalorians across the galaxy, he solely worked solo except for the few times he had to team up and even then it was a group of Mandalorians.

Aruetii are weird.

Nonetheless, the pay was good and he had no inclination of quitting.

"Very well. Let's get to it." Jair said. "If we are lucky we may be able to get you to remotely disable these defenses. Unless that's not possible."

Which usually wasn't. Lady Luck was a dirty schutta, after all.

[member="Dak"] [member="Arken Lussk"]

 

[Dak]

Akash Guul Arken Lussk
​

Dak gives a rigged nod to the slicer’s assessment of the security measures. The station was certainly old and out of date, but he also knew from his own experience that this could present both opportunities and challenges. But if the droid was to have faith in someone to be able to overcome the challenges of deciphering old, obscure machine languages and security routines on the fly, the young CEO of Aegis Systems would be the one.

“Very well. Make your final preparations. We will meet in the hangar bay to proceed; EVA will be required to access the station,” he rises from his seat and motions a hand to the door, giving a polite dip of his head while waiting for his guests to excuse themselves.

------------------------------
1830 HR : 25 minutes later

The hangar bay of the stealth corvette was practically barren, aside from a single IX-10 starfighter. Dak's personal craft and a design he had grown fond of, though he rarely found the need to use. A sizeable area had been completely cleared out to make room for possible discoveries on the mission, but most of the hangar had never been utilized at all. Dak saw this craft as a scholarly retreat and a tool for exploration and transport, despite its actual purpose. His droids did not need private craft and very little preservative supplies were needed aboard, leaving much emptiness.

Dak stands near the magcon field, watching eagerly from the open blast door as the droidforge draws closer. He had prepared an insulated bodysuit for the boarding, designed to protect him from the dangerous electromagnetic radiation. The bodysuit gave him a smooth form, covering some of the more abstract designs of his frame and making him appear far more organic at a distance or glance.

Soon these secrets would be his.

 

[Akash Guul]

[member="Dak"] [member="Arken Lussk"]

When the hatch slid open, Jair did not expect a well lit corridor to greet them. Something this ancient and still active and seemingly maintained well was surprising. The eerie silence crept him out. It just did not fit. As if there was supposed to be scores of droids going about their work. The Mandalorian concluded an abandoned dark derelict vessel was less dreadful than this 'paradox'.

"Looks like your station's up and ready for work, droid." Jair muttered as he stepped in to take point. Blaster pistol in hand. Tight quarters were hardly fitting for the long pulse canon rifle slung on his back. As he looked around the hallway, the Mandalorian realized everything seemed as familiar as it was different. Omni was certainly influenced by its creators but its unexpected drastic development spawned architecture and designs that were simply alien. Hence why he could not pinpoint any terminal or anything that bore semblance to a socket for their slicer. Maybe he'd orient himself better.

"Slicer. See anything you can tap into?"

 

[Arken Lussk]

Arken and V1CT0R made quite the strange duo. One of them a rather skinny and lithe young man, the other a machine created entirely for the toils and strife of warfare. One a magnanimous, mischievous businessman - the other an aggressive, merciless automaton carrying a repeating blaster. He'd been Arken's sword and shield ever since he was born; his father never trusted him to be alone as a child, so Arken always found ways to include the droid in his mischief. Today was one of those instances.

"Affirmation: Master, you are sealed and ready for vacuum. You should not perish upon entering it."

Arken raised a brow with a grin. "Shouldn't? I'll have to trust your word for that."

The slicer shifted in his armor, flexing out in the underlay a little more as if it were a glove. It carried an assortment of his typical tools of the trade. A portable computer, dozens of computer interface nodes, electronic scramblers, brute-force lock breakers, and a stealth unit. Just in case he wanted to slip away unnoticed.

It didn't take long for the four of them to reach the droidforge. Conversation was light, if any, and most of the team busied themselves with the cleaning of weapons and last-minute checks on their own armor rigs. Hopefully little use was required of it all, though Arken was never one to shy away from being safe rather than sorry.

A metallic clang and hiss of depressurizing air greeted them coolly as the vessel docked with the forge. An antsy feeling came over him. Being in vacuum was a worse fate than being cut down by hordes of AI-controlled battle droids. A blaster bolt was a preferable alternative to dying slowly as your last powercell ran out of juice.

Be that as it may, a metal hand gripped a utility rung in his armor, hauling him up from his seat. Arken glanced to see Victor giving him the most genuine thumbs-up he'd seen, brandishing his heavy blaster at the same time. He was in good hands.

"Alright, let's get to work," the slicer murmured, stepping forward into formation behind the Mandalorian and Victor.

The Mandalorian's question was an expected one. The moment they had made it into the dimly lit corridor, his senses were already stretching outwards. The gift of the Force and years of devotion to Mechu-deru turned moments like these into cakewalks. Electronic circuitry that hadn't been juiced up in ages, simple electronic locks, and no sign of semi-sentient robotics nearby. As if whatever was here hadn't expected any visitors whatsoever.

"Yeah," Arken replied, slipping past the muscle of their team to the front of their pack. His eyes were entirely on the ceiling. "Follow this corridor for about twenty meters, then take a left. Seems like there's only one locked door on this side of the forge. Leads me to believe that it's either stuck or intentionally locked, seeing as there ain't much power diverted here."

He turned to gesture at Victor, who quickly shouldered his rifle and strode over to him with his hands braced.

"I'll, uh, be in the ventilation shaft. You shouldn't hear me, but I'll be in contact via Victor here. I'll be following the same route, and want to get an actual visual on the wiring up there." The slicer cleared his throat. "Now help me up, Vic."

The battle droid reached upwards, prying the vent for the shaft off with immeasurable strength, promptly dropping it onto the bulkhead. Then up Arken went, practically being shoved into the darkened orifice without a care in the world.

As the slicer pulled his legs up into the ventilation shaft, he disappeared from sight.

Victor turned to the rest of the team. "Report: Master is moving now. I will be advising you of his movements and possible issues. Please, this way."

[member="Jair Ordo"], [member="Dak"]

 

[Dak]

Akash Guul Arken Lussk ​

Though the station held an illusion of familiarity from the outside, the façade fell apart completely once through the blast doors. On the inside it was a purely alien structure. The floorplan defied organic logic, built more akin to an ant’s nest than a factory. Passageways of various widths extended directly above and dropped below, with narrow tunnels scattered between the routes seemingly at random. If one thing was certain, it was that this vessel was never meant for men. These were the pathways of specialized droids, each capable of easily and efficiently navigating these complex routes to complete their task.

Dak followed from the rear with his ACR at the ready, walking cautiously along the rounded corridor they’d entered from with the help of integrated mag-locks.

“Yes,” he answered the Mandalorian “though this is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

The droid watches as Arken drift to the narrow pass above them. He felt unease here, though he couldn’t quite pin-point why. So far, his sensors been relatively silent. However, he’d also noticed them flickering already from the high levels of electromagnetic radiation. Even without the limitations of true emotion or fear, he felt an inexplicable concern as he observed the strange architecture that surrounded them.

“Be careful trusting your instincts here, Mr. Lussk,” his receptors switch to V1CT0R as the slicer disappears from sight “I worry that an entity such as Omni may not have built it’s structures within the confines of human imagination. We should be cautious of relying on what we consider familiar here.”

Allowing a moment for his words to be received, he gestures for the Mandalorian to continue forward with a nod of his head, and forms up behind him with his rifle shouldered and at the ready.

“We will follow his instructions as best as we can,” Dak says from behind Jair. The light from the droid’s helmet-mounted glowrod stretches out passed the group, lighting up the twisted metal, piping and wires of the corridor and revealing multiple precarious drops along the way “but watch your footing.”

As the two reach the end of the corridor and search for the leftward passage a slow-building hum can be heard resonating from the tunnels all around. The hum falls silent after only a brief moment and then, rather abruptly, the low metallic groan of metal straining echoes loudly from deep within the forge.

The station was waking up.

 

[Akash Guul]

[member="Dak"] [member="Arken Lussk"]

Vent rats. Lussk, for all his wealthy demeanor, was one. Ordo had no specific views on slicers, he saw them as useful. Sure, he'd read plenty of fiction and non-fiction books on the power these individuals wielded with their capabilities of gaining access to everyone's privacy. A year ago, Jair recalled, he'd whacked one who had been running a solo blackmail operation on high-profile entities. The pay, in the end, wasn't worth the endless chase across close quarter places, like shafts and vents. He'd been plagued by cramps for a week after that job.

The sudden humming sound cracking through the silence had the Mandalorian stop, his fist raised to hint the rest to do so, as well.

"Any advice on this possible issue, droid?" he addressed the slicer's personal bodyguard.

((OOC: sorry for the delay, was on vacay.))

 

[Arken Lussk]

The hushed voices of the rest of his team soon disappeared as Arken clambered into the ventilation duct without hesitation. Sure, it was a tight fit, but his wiry frame was as functional as it was pleasing to the eye. Quiet grunts escaped his lips as his armor clanked and thumped against the sides of the duct, his low-light visor kicking in almost instantly. Only the neon outlines of powered wiring, the hiss of pressurized air, and a looming dread greeted him.

The slicer huffed in exasperation. Everything about this seemed so foreign. Even the way the circuitry was lined, as if they were veins and arteries for a larger mechanical organism. It was hardly the cut-and-dry engineering that automatons preferred, with all of the correct inputs and outputs - and proper emissions security. Even with mechu-deru, there was very little that Arken could do right here, steeling his resolve and beginning a slow crawl through the shaft to his destination. Surely there would be an internal control panel above the locked door: hiding something behind it.

It was the thrumming of the forge that worried him the most.

---------​

​

Victor was content to remain in place, his photoreceptor trained upwards just in case the master fell from it. It had occurred before, and his programming denied him from aiding his creator in times of duress - no matter how clumsy he knew all organics were. The battle droid remained there dutifully until he could no longer detect the master's biometrics.

The droid turned to face the rest of the group, as if waiting for instructions in the absence of Arken. Instead, they looked to him for guidance: and it surprised him.

"Proposition: I recommend the path of least resistance. We follow the master, unlock the door, and continue on our way. The vibrations do not concern me, Mandalorian." His synthesized voice came. "Though I expect a 23% chance of opposition, there is an 87% chance of combat success with our current team loadout."

With that, Victor unslung the heavy repeating rifle and started down the corridor.

[member="Jair Ordo"], [member="Dak"]

 

[Dak]

Akash Guul Arken Lussk ​

Dak stopped immediately, pulling his ACR up to aim beyond the Mandalorian to the corner they approached. Alas, there was nothing. Just mechanical creaking, like metal straining from much deeper within the old structure. Things fell silent once more.

“We must determine where we’re navigating to,” he speaks out quietly “this facility’s layout has proven far more complicated than I had anticipated. We must determine the location of the central control system, if there even is one. Or attempt to pick our way down to the reactor of in this machine hive.”

Another strong, rumbling pulse interrupts the droid, vibrating the corridor and causing him to sway from his mag-locks in the zero gravity. “I’m beginning to suspect some form of welcome is already underway…”

As V1CT0R presses forward, Dak falls in behind him at the ready, receptors pealed on the various ins-and-outs that littered their pathway all around.

From within the narrow tunnels above the ambience of the station was only further emphasized. A deep droning of machinery paired with more subtle, pulsating static from energy rushing through the walls like veins. There’s a sensation that begins to creep in after a while, curiously radiating from within the walls.

The slicer-mystic catches something for only a moment – a faint, inexplicable sense of curiosity lingering in the Force.

 

[Akash Guul]

"Sounds like prelim. intel's got nothing on this place." Jair said as he carried on cautiously forward besides the slicer's battle droid. With each step they took, more sounds seemed to appear as if the station was truly coming alive.

And it probably wasn't fitted to welcome anything foreign. Afterall, this wasn't exactly Weststar resort they were going in.

"I hope the welcoming committee looks nothing like you, Dak. It'd be awful to whack your employer at work." Ordo tried humor before jerking his head at Victor. "Your master - he got any clues about a control center or something similar?"


[member="Dak"] [member="Arken Lussk"]

 

[Arken Lussk]

His facade of being calm and collected had only lasted him for so long, until the humming of a living station nearly drove him insane. Flickering lights, pulses of neon cabling, and winding shadows in the vent stole his breath with every inch forward he crawled. If someone happened to be below, the constant gasps of surprise and tense grunts would almost be comical. This wasn't like most other ventilation rat jobs, with the standard circuitry and vibe to it. This... was something else entirely - literally the nexus of all that was unholy, once hellbent on exterminating organic life in the galaxy.

It was as if the Mechanical Gods above had blessed Arken as their patron saint. The control panel, finally! An enunciated sigh of relief escaped his armor's vocalizer as the slicer angled his way closer to its familiar shape. Perfectly rectangle, with warning labels and everything. Please only operate and maintain if you are a licensed electrical engineer. A smile lightened his expression, a quick swipe of a utility knife freeing the case with ease. Arken nearly exclaimed with joy. It was all so familiar, so much that it almost cured the looming dread of the atmosphere. It was exactly like most commercial ones.

Content with the sight, he quickly got to work. It was the standard security system, tripping an alarm if an incorrect combination of numbers was input. Deft fingers slapped the scramble key onto it with delight, the little device whirring to life in an instant. It only took seven and a half seconds for the handy gadget to do the trick, green light flashing and confirmation beep warbling in the silence.

He smiled and resealed the hatch - or at least as best as he could. And before he knew it, he was kicking open the bottom hatch and dropping back onto the bulkhead below.

Footsteps and familiar silhouettes greeted him in the dim light of the corridor.

"We're in business." The slicer beamed. "I'll leave the honors of pressing the 'open' button to you, chief."

Dak | Akash Guul

 

[Dak]

Tags: Arken Lussk Akash Guul ​

"It'd be awful to whack your employer at work."

The droid's receptors linger on the Mandalorian for a few seconds following the comment, not knowing how to interpret it. Organic humour could be dry and came in many forms; it had taken him a while to understand advanced concepts like 'sarcasm'. Mandalorian's weren't exactly comedians, and Dak found himself wondering if it had truly been a threat.

He had anticipated they would encounter droid resistance here. What he had not expected was the design of the interior. Ironically, he had never considered just how truly alien a station optimized by an artificial intelligence for non-organic workers might be put together. Despite this, through sheer luck it would seem, the slicer had found relatively easy success.

As the scramble key finishes its work, several more pulses of glowing energy ripple along the wires and circuit boards of the panel. While this seems to cause no effect, once again the slicer is able to sense a dim, permeating curiosity.

The green light activating catches Dak's attention immediately, although the ceiling hatch booting open quickly steals it away. Catching himself mid-reflexes, the droid shoulders his BR-212 but stops himself from lining the barrel up with the slicer.

"Excellent work, Mr. Lussk," his stance remains readied but he returns his focus to the panel controlling the door. Approaching it, Dak delays pressing the button as the station rumbles again. He shifts his head slightly, speaking behind himself to the group "Be prepared for anything. Whatever it is that has remained dormant here is awake now."

With the stroke of a key and a few mechanical whirs, the blast door separates into four pieces and retracts into the walls, floor and ceiling.

Opposite of it, a shadowed but relatively straight corridor of twisting pipes and wire, held in place with narrow sheets of metal which could double as a makeshift pathway. Dak shoulders his rifle and takes the first step through the doorway, unknowingly triggering a sensor that had apparently eluded his sophisticated sensor suite.

From behind the group two panels pop open on either side of the walls, ejecting two single-barrelled anti-personnel turrets. As they begin to target the group a mechanical hiss echoes from the shadowed passage ahead of them, followed by distant, hurried tapping of pointed metallic legs.

 

[Akash Guul]

Turn back time to a few years back to the green days and Jair would've pulled the trigger without hesitation when the slicer came down from the ceiling. He held the aims at the man instinctively for a few moments before moving it away. The itch for the trigger didn't fade. And rightfully so.

When the door slid open it only took one wrong step from Dak for the station's welcoming committee to spring from hiding.

Surprise motherfucka.

This time pulling the trigger came as quick as light. Numerous times. Blaster bolts headed straight at the materialized turrets without any doubt. Self-preservation or a warrior's instinct. Or a mix of both.

"Get to cover!" the Mandalorian roared through his helmet's vocalizer and glued himself to the wall of the hallway. There was not much of a cover. He should've planned his estate better, he realized. "These fethin' turrets will shred us to pieces!"

Stating the obvious hardly changed the track of tragic events but a thermal detonator might. He hurled the darned orb but slung it further than expected. It casually bypassed the turrets but went straight at where the sounds of metallic legs grew stronger.

Dark Arken Lussk