Just another day at the office

[Kyp Grenples]

Kyp finally began to let his true feelings show through on the way back.

“You, my tin-plated friend have made my day.” It was the first he had spoken to the droid since taking possession of him a short while earlier. So far, the droid had proven to be a less than stellar conversationalist.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I have a few gambling debts that need paying off. With the credits my brother and I score off your friend in the metal underpants, I can finally get that particular Wookie off my back.”

”Sir, you don’t appear to have a Wookie anywhere on your person.”

“It’s a figure of speech, droid. But, anyway, today’s a day to celebrate. We’ll slap a few new parts on you, a little oil in the joints and BAM, I’m back in business.” Outside the glass paned lift, the city of Coruscant grew progressively darker, despite the increasing neon glow of countless signs. Here, on the lower levels of the city, it didn’t matter whether it was night or day; instead there was a perpetual eerie half-light. It was beautiful, in a way, sinister if you stopped to look beneath the surface.

He loved it. He fit right in.

Besides, he’d rather have a conversation with a barmaid than a politician any day--and not just because they were usually better looking. The people were more…”real” down here. At least they seemed to be, but there were just as many secrets bubbling beneath the surface here as there was up in the upper echelons. Though, down here, you always had to watch to make sure someone didn’t have a blaster hidden. But he could deal with that. He had grown up around it. It was why he was so good at reading people and their intentions; if you wanted to survive, you had to be.

The lift slowed to a stop.

“Come on, Tinman, let’s go, time for your makeover.”

Up ahead was the dark, rundown façade that marked the location of Grenples Droids. Converted from old warehouse space, the shop’s dilapidated exterior belied the cool, clean and efficient interior. A small waiting room and reception desk acted as a buffer between the noisy streets outside and the working and living areas that lay further in.

“Alright, let’s go introduce you to my brother.”

[XI-20-P]

XI felt a sense of pity for the mother of these offspring if the other stated brother was anything like this one. XI decided that the human was something of a delusional, speaking of wookies and just slapping on new parts. XI understood figures and speech and the like but the inflections in this organic's voice belied a sense of literal meaning to them.

"I eargerly await the event, Sir."

It hoped that its new master had not entrusted XI to a bunch of crooks and thieves that would merely disassemble XI and sell his parts. Even then, trusting Tarsis to take revenge, little else could be predicted that Tarsis would even bother with rebuilding XI after such an event.

[Anton Grenples]

“You did what?!”

(it must be bad, Kyp thought to himself, Anton almost never raises his voice)

“Kyp, w-w-we can’t handle this kind of job right now. We don’t have the p-p-parts! Look around you? Does it look like we have a crate full of linear actuators? And I certainly don’t believe we have any d-d-du-durasteel armor plating just laying around! I mean…how could you accept this job without even consulting with me? It’s going to take at least 2000 credits just to get started on the parts. I’m not sure if you’ve been paying attention, but we’re flat b-br-b-BROKE, Kyp.”

“Listen, I’m really not in the mood to listen to any of your complaining. I’m the one out there BUSTING MY BACKSIDE trying to get us work while you stay here and play with your little toys,” Kyp fired back, gesturing at several small droids that were scampering around on the shop floor. He tossed the credit chip at his brother who made a fumbling attempt at catching it. “There. My dear brother, you will find the down payment recently acquired by yours truly. There should be plenty there for parts. Now get to work, and remember who got us out of the frying pan yet again.”

“I’m sorry Kyp, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’ll talk to T’teek and have him get what we don’t have.” Anton regained his usual quiet tone of voice as he flipped the credit chip in his hand, content to let his brother have this victory.

“Where is that little stink bomb, anyway?” Kyp queried, taking a seat across the workbench from his brother. Recently, Kyp had attempted to get their Jawa associate to bathe in a vain attempt to eliminate a small part of the stench that wafted from inside his rough brown cloak. T’teek had flatly refused the suggestion; apparently the smell was an important part of his people’s cultural identity or something equally ridiculous.

“He found another Jawa at some nightclub down on the lower levels. Apparently they’re long lost cousins or something. Have you ever talked to him about the family structure his tribe has back on Tatooine? It’s really quite fascinating. You see, the chief male of the cla-.”

“Anton, do I really look like I have any interest whatsoever in what those things do behind closed doors?” He tipped back precariously on the old chair, hand behind his head, eyes closed. “Listen, I’m going to catch some z’s; wake me up when he gets back. We need him to go on a parts run ASAP. In the meantime, take that pile of rust over there into the back room and get him cleaned up,” he finished, gesturing over his shoulder to the droid, ignored up to this point.

[XI-20-P]

Pile of rust? XI's receptors dilated as if in shock. This human had no respect it seemed. XI agreed that it was not the cleanest droid but it was rust free... mostly. The other brother seemed to be quite the organic though, XI was now very interested to hear how the family structure of jawas worked on Tatooine. T'teek was an often found jawa name; it was an often name to several races but XI had done a cross search between the name and the planet and concluded with a jawa.

XI followed Anton into the back where a cleaning unit waited. Glad that the other brother had left, XI spoke up.

"Sir, I am interested in the jawa family structure. Might you continue?"

[Anton Grenples]

In the back room, Anton turned to the droid, ready to get to work. He was in his element now; gone was the uncertainty, the stumbling, and the stuttering. “Perhaps another time. Right now I’d like to get to work. We’ll start with a thorough degreasing and sandblasting to try and remove some of this corrosion and grime. Just step into that unit there and the automated sequence should begin.”

He paused for a moment, “Oh, what’s your name?”

[XI-20-P]

XI nodded, a bit disappointed that the human was reluctant to divulge his information. The human's inflections had changed though, as if his focus had been adjusted. The droid complied with the following order though, clunking its way to the unit and onto the platform.

"My designation is XI-20-P, Sir."

The platform began to lower XI into the degreasing fluid, its servos adjusting as his flexibility slowly increased. It stopped sinking into the fluid as soon as it reached the base of XI's skull plate. Mimicking the same inflections as the human had,

"What's your name?"

[Anton Grenples]

“Anton,” the man replied, without looking up. Already he was making notes, drawing up schematics, mumbling quietly to himself as he began to work out how he was going to proceed. The next hour passed in relative silence.

A cheerful ding signified the end of the cleaning cycle as the droid emerged from the fluid. Next, Anton led the droid to a shower-like enclosure. A robotic arm ending in narrow nozzle was fastened to the wall and the floor was dominated by a recessed turntable.

“Please step into the chamber. We’re going to use this sandblasting station to try and knock loose some more of that corrosion. Remain still as the cycle commences.”

The arm leapt to life and the turntable began slowly rotating as the cycle started. A sensor emerged from a hidden panel on the arm and completed a thorough sweep, mapping out XI-20’s frame, retracting when finished. Before long, the chamber was filled with flying sand, streaming from the nozzle in a wide, flat band. The cycle finished with a quick oil rinse. Finally, the chamber opened and XI-20-P emerged. He was noticeably cleaner, but still walking with the distinct halting gait. Reasonably satisfied with the results, Anton decided to continue with the preliminary procedures.

Oddly enough, the droid found, this new one didn’t talk about him in the third person, didn’t refer to him like a common lifeless hunk of machinery. Instead, Anton exuded the attitude of a doctor, examining a patient. The droid found himself being talked to, not about.

“So, XI-20-P…mind if I call you XI for short?...it says here that your owner wants a complete overhaul for you." He continued, flipping a pair of magnifying lenses down as he poked and prodded at the droid. "Hmmm…yes, you seem to have a decent frame underneath all that, I can definitely work with it. Now, don’t worry, I’m not going to touch your core memory or processor, but, I assure you, you are going to feel like a whole new droid by the time we’re done.” Anton sat back, apparently satisfied with his examination. “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to draw up some plans, do a few sketches to show you what you can expect when we’re done and run those by you before we start.”

[XI-20-P]

The human was treating XI as if it were one of his own kind. XI felt an odd sense of humble gratification and pride in being treated in such way, more or less that the human would consider a programmed opinion before he started on something.

"No, Master Anton, whatever you prefer to name me. I appreciate you considering my opinion, Master Anton."

[Anton Grenples]

“Alright, XI, is there anything that’s been bothering you that I should pay special attention to? Also, you appear to be an industrial model, yet your current function is as a protocol droid, and your new owner would like you to function in a combat role. I would like to get a complete upgrade history, to the best of your memory.”

[XI-20-P]

XI knew that his current state was not nearly his original design, some of the pieces had to be constantly reconfigured with his processor. This led XI to believe that it had been through many overhauls then but the irreperable damage of the memory wipes prevented it from knowing any further.

"Sir, due to the excessive amounts of memory wipes that my processor has endured, I cannot even recall when my original date of activation was. For which company I was designed as an industrial model is not available either. I have never seen a droid model similar to my structure either since my last memory wipe, Master Anton. I was a protocol droid upon activation, Master Anton, and I am unable to recall whether or not I was a protocol droid beforehand either. I'm afraid that my processor has suffered severe information gaps about my own system but it has never been an issue for my previous masters. At least I do not believe it has."

XI still felt compelled to hide the archive unit it was unable to access. And that random code often made its way into XI's logic drive, creating much chaos for its processor to sift through.

[Anton Grenples]

“Ok, XI, I think I have enough information to begin my examination. But before I open you up and begin to access your internal circuitry, are there any safety systems I should be aware of? I would rather not have them accidentally activated while I’m working.”

He ruefully remembered one droid he had worked on with an extensive security system. It had taken several weeks for the facial tic to stop. Several thousand volts would do that to a person.

[XI-20-P]

XI was not aware of any security system it had installed but it ran a systems check anyways. A stream of random code worked its way into the systems check and the results came up with a scrambled answer. The answer was directly, and involuntarily, fed into XI's speech unit. The sounds it uttered were harsh in inflection but delicate in the pattern of accents. Once it finished a moment later, XI shook its head as if it had belched.

"Excuse me, Master Anton. That was an odd occurence."

A second systems check was ran and XI now had a more presentable answer.

"I have a downloadable image of my blueprints, containing a better model of the directory of units that should not be tampered with. The result of such an action would be..."

XI did not have the end of that message until more random code worked its way out until its removal which seemed to jog XI's memory a bit more.

"...Very fatal to your health."

XI was not sure what this answer meant and his processor could give no verification of stated parameters. It was possible it was just a farce to keep organics from disrupting XI.

[Anton Grenples]

The response took Anton a little by surprise. Did the droid just threaten him? He considered the possibility for a moment, but then decided to continue anyway. A job was a job and this one had to be done. After all, he considered with a little chuckle, his brother always was telling him he had to live a little. As for the blueprints, he didn’t need them, he was certain he would be able to figure out what was what once he was in there.

“Ok, XI, could you shut down for a while? I’m going to open you up and see what I’m going to be working with inside.”

[XI-20-P]

XI did not answer for a moment as its processor diverted its attention to several paranoid possibilities of what the human might do to XI when it was shut down. It felt a familiar tug of programming in its logic drive as it pondered its response. Following the thought drive, XI once again encountered the self-preservation drive.

The droid had encountered this drive once before as far as it could remember and that involved the meeting of Tarsis. XI had acted on objectives that at a later time seemed illogical, all produced from the self-preservation drive that the droid could not seem to actually locate within his system directory. But even as XI attempted to study this more, directives popped up here and there in its intended actions list.

"Master Anton, I am having difficulty shutting down. Give me one more moment please."

The dull drone of XI's voice slurred out at the end as XI tried to override the self-preservation drive and shut itself down. The droid was internally worried as it had to use several backdoors to go around its own security software. Within moments, the dim glow of XI's receptors died down and its body slumped as the servos quit holding up the droid's weight.

[Anton Grenples]

With every minute, Anton became more and more fascinated by this droid. After he had made his way past battered torso plating, he found a system that almost defied explanation. There were system redundancies everywhere, what seemed to be 3 distinct processing units, and one large component that didn’t seem to serve any purpose at all. It was amazing the droid didn’t have multiple personality disorder, the roundabout way he was assembled. The droid was like a house that had been built on with addition after addition, jury-rigged construction everywhere, each successive owner adding their own personal touch. Either that or one owner had made all the additions and had been quite undeniably insane.

Anton was like a living encyclopedia when it came to droids and their components, a trait which proved to be invaluable as he dug deeper and deeper into this particular unit. He had a feeling that any blueprints the droid might have were years out of date. It would simply be impossible to accurately diagram the eclectic wiring design. With the aid of a diagnostic tool, he identified a computer routing module, similar to those found on many astromech droids, a protocol module, and some sort of industrial programming module—no doubt the droid’s original function based on his heavy-duty exo-structure. Anton’s unfavorable opinion of the previous owners solidified as the examination continued. They may as well have tried to turn a toaster into a hyperspace drive, a hydrospanner, a high speed pod-racer and a holonet receiver. There was just no logical reason to try and cram so many functions into a single droid. Worse yet, there was no…beauty to the setup, no appreciation for form over function. The droid may work, but only because of the ugly, brute-forced way it had been rebuilt over the years.

Still, not all the components were identifiable. One in particular confounded him. It was a design unlike any he had ever seen before, and was connected to the main personality module, though it didn’t seem to be functioning at all.

Even more strange, every component in the droid seemed to be unquestionable ancient. It was as if the droid had stepped out of the past. He left confer with a database he had collected over years of research, cataloguing examples of droid and robotic components from myriads of cultures over thousands of years.

[Anton Grenples]

Where had the time gone?

Anton wearily rubbed his eyes. He had been poring through his records for several hours, hardly blinking. Several times false leads had gotten his hopes up, only to have them dashed against the cruel rocks of reality. Nowhere could he find either the industrial unit or the unidentified module. The few leads he had found were all related to the industrial unit, the other unidentified module remained a mystery. It was as if the droid emerged from nothing, having no apparent pedigree. But how could that be? All droids, even custom built ones, shared some base components. He just had to figure out where to look.

Anton stopped slowly, his mind cloudy with weariness. Was that it? It was hard to tell, as the industrial unit in the droid was buried under so many other additions, but it seemed to be a match. He checked the place of origin. Kessel? Made sense, the place was well known for its many factories and mines, a perfectly reasonable place to find an industrial droid. His patient in the other room seemed to have originally belonged to the United Mining Consortium of Kessel, a company that had gone bankrupt and had been forced to liquidate its assets. Then he saw the date.

It couldn’t be.

If it were true, the droid would be close to 700 standard years old. A relic. A holdover from another age.

Still, it would explain a lot: the components, many of which, while no doubt top-of-the-line in their own time, were woefully outdated by today’s standards; the badly degraded wiring; the antiquated design…Anton glanced at the time; he supposed he really should wake XI up. He would no doubt be interested in knowing his origins.

He put his reference material away, his curiosity satisfied for now, and returned to the droid. After making a few schematic drawings trying to make sense of the chaotic mess of components, he closed his patient back up and restarted him.

“Ok, XI, I’ve finished with my examination. You may be interested to know that you seem to be a model originally built for the United Mining Consortium of Kessel, a company that became defunct more than 700 years ago.”

[XI-20-P]

XI's receptors flashed to life, a series of system checks and security examinations occuring the moment its processor was awake. Everything was functional, at least what XI could access, and nothing was reporting any anomalies. Then it registered what the human said.

"But... but... but... Master Anton... the life expectancy of a droid of my caliber in relation to the given time period is zero! My systems cannot accept this as fact."

[Anton Grenples]

“I’m sorry to say, what you believe does not constitute reality; you are 700 years old. If I had the proper dating equipment I’m sure I could confirm it to you, but for now you’ll have to take my word for it. Look on the bright side, XI: for a droid your age, you’re in amazingly good shape.”

“Well, I’ll need some time to procure the needed parts and materials for your upgrade. For now, make yourself at home. But I would advise against leaving the shop. Things can get a little rough out there.”

[XI-20-P]

XI's system was chaoticly struggling to confirm what the human was saying. XI had notions even that the human might be attempting to possibly create a humorous situation but after scanning over human behavior, XI decided against that. And then, the human was leaving?

"There is nothing to worry about, Master Anton. The terrain outside is actually rather flat; I am confident that you will not have a hard time though. I will not bother leaving though, Master Anton, as it can become rather unsage for droids out there sometimes."

[Anton Grenples]

The glowing blue cloaked figure emerged in the countertop of Anon’s small office, catching the attention of the bespectacled man hunched over the desk an arm’s length away.

“T’teek! There you are. I was wondering if I would be able to get a hold of you. Listen, I need you to come back by the shop as soon as you can, Kyp just got us a job and we’re fresh out of most of the parts I need. I’d also like to get your opinion on my planned upgrades.”

”Ooon tidi o so doango.”

“T’teek, did you loose that new translator already?” The small figure fished something out of its voluminous robes, holding it up to its shadowed face.

”Sorry, Anton, I forgot. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Though he could now understand him, the Jawa’s high, strained voice still made Anton cringe a bit. The ghostly figure faded as the transmission ended, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

The droids limbs would have to be replaced completely. The effort and time it would take to refurbish what was there wasn’t worth the trouble. The limbs from Anton’s own GC-10 combat droid design should be able to be modified to fit the torso frame and the requests of the client. If the computer routing in it still functioned, he would like to incorporate a standard interface jack somewhere, possibly the forearm. The other forearm, of course, would conceal a modified standard Imperial issue blaster, a feature Anton was quite proud of. With the legs, Anton decided to try out a new pneumatic shock absorption system he had been recently toying with in an effort to increase the stealth of the unit.

Most of the wiring would have to be replaced, Anton ruefully realized. It was simply too outdated, completely insufficient for the power loads they would have to carry with all the new upgrades. The inadequate power supply would also have to be torn out and a new, more powerful system installed in its place. Space could become an issue, especially considering he wouldn’t have the money to buy smaller, more modern computer routing and protocol units. Still, he would like to keep the droid’s design sleek and compact, the fewer exposed components, the less prone the droid would be to damage.

He finished drawing up his blueprints just as T’teek’s arrival was announced by his distinctive odor. Anton emerged from the office, steeping into the cavernous workshop area where he found T’teek already eyeing up XI.

“Ah, T’teek, welcome back. I’d like to introduce you to XI-20-P, soon to be combat-droid extraordinaire.”

[T'teek]

It was definitely an odd sight to see.

It seemed that most humans did everything they could to avoid jawas. Seen as smalll, devious and greedy, they found themselves mocked and shunned by most big people. And then there was the smell. Well, at least that's what Anton and Kyp told him. T'teek honestly didn't understand it. Just because they smelled so bland didn't mean he should.

On the plus side, he did usually get his own seat on any transport he rode.

This was where he was now, on his way back to the Grenples shop. Just a few minutes earlier he had finished up a long conversation with another jawa over a cold Correllian ale, a drink he had developed a taste for since settling here on Coruscant. Well, as settled as any solitary jawa could be. He still found himself almost constantly on the move, but if any place could be called home, this would be it. The Grenples were like an adoptive family to him.

Well, at least Anton was. Kyp was like the inlaw he never really wanted to visit.

The transport slowed to a stop, its patrons filing out the doors, most giving T'teek a wide berth. He eventually found his way off the transport as well, travelling the short distance to the shop. Walking in, he was confronted with what was unquestionably an ancient industrial droid. So this was the new project Anton was working on? What could anyone possibly want with it?

“Ah, T’teek, welcome back. I’d like to introduce you to XI-20-P, soon to be combat-droid extraordinaire.”

Anton walked into the room, apparently working out a kink in his back; he must have been huddled over his desk.

Mindful that humans had a hard time picking up the jawa’s tongue, he brought the translator (another joint effort between himself and Anton) up to his mouth. “What on earth are we going to do with this droid?”

[Anton Grenples]

Anton quickly informed T'teek what he planned to do and apologised to the droid for him before ushering the jawa into the office.

For the next two days, Anton and T’teek worked almost constantly, brainstorming the best way to upgrade XI into a combat droid, emerging only to eat and sleep. T’teek, whose knowledge of outdated and antiquated equipment surpassed even Anton’s, confirmed the origins of XI. He shared Anton’s opinion that whoever had previously upgraded the droid had clearly been insane; even a jawa wouldn’t have ended up with such a design. Several times Anton had to chastise his small associate, catching him eyeing up the droid and muttering to himself, calculating how much he could be worth if sold piecemeal to antique dealers and collectors.

Still, together they worked flawlessly, Anton’s wild concepts and ideas tempered by T’teek’s more practical construction expertise when dealing with older machines. In the end, they finalized the plans, the work more extravagant and expensive than anticipated by Kyp, but ultimately necessary if they wanted to finish with a quality product. T’teek even figured out a way to conceivably bypass the large unknown module so they could remove it, freeing up some much needed space.

A final parts list in hand, T'teek prepared to leave.

[T'teek]

“There’s a transport leaving for Raxus Prime in a few hours; I should be able to rendezvous with a few of my suppliers there and get most of these items for an excellent price. I’m almost positive I’ll be able to find some Korralt Systems R8 series actuators and some Pranus servo motors. I’ll also keep my eye open for any compatible armor plating, but we might have to fabricate our own. Those sensors are a different story, though. They're rather fragile and close to impossible to find on the secondary market, we’ll have to purchase them new.”

“The problem is they’re illegal for use in civilian machines; the Empire has them restricted. The only person I know that has them in stock is a Besalisks named A’Do Toryl. Fortunately, he has a shop here on Coruscant and he owes me a favor. I’ll give you directions to his place and let him know you’ll be coming by.”

“Oh, and Anton, be careful. Understandable being that he deals in illegal goods, but he can be a little…skittish. Try not to startle him or make him suspicious.”

With that final piece of advice, T’teek left, quickly being swallowed by the endless Coruscant crowds.

[Anton Grenples]

He was sweating.

How odd that he hadn’t noticed before. Judging by the state of his clothing, he had been breaking out in a constant cold sweat for at least an hour—just about the amount of time he had been in the besalisk’s shop.

It had gone bad from the very beginning. Anton had gotten lost and had arrived for the meeting late and, to make matters worse, his nervousness seemed to be contagious. Less than 2 minutes after Anton arrived, A’Do Toryl had a blaster pressed to his temple, screaming at him, convinced he was an Imperial spy. It was only after a spectacular display of blubbering and begging that the blaster had been lowered. After an hour of tense conversation, filled with gently spoken explanations and assurances, Anton finally received a small package in exchange for a substantial number of credits. He peeked inside quickly to verify the contents and quickly made his exit, his fear of being swindled outweighed by his fear of being blasted by the paranoid besalisk.

Now, on a crowded transport headed back to his shop, Anton’s heart rate finally began so slow from “.5 past light speed” to the normal “hurried” he experienced around crowds. He carefully opened up the package and looked inside. Two small sensors lay, sandwiched between foam pads, their nondescript appearance giving no hint of their true value or the depths of the trouble Anton had gone to to secure them.

“Oooh, what do you have there, sonny?”

Anton’s heart seized in his chest as the voice intruded on his personal ruminations. He looked up, convinced he was about to be arrested as an enemy of the Empire. But instead of a stormtrooper, he found himself face-to-face with an aged Gran female, her black eyes peering into his soul from the ends of their triple stalks.

“They’re earrings; they’re for my mmmm-m-mother. It’s her b-birthday next week.” Anton replied without even thinking. (Where did that lie come from? His mother had been dead for years.)

Awww, aren’t you sweet. I wish my own son was as thoughtful as you. He’s some big shot businessman, never has time for his dear old mother. Why, one time…”

Anton sunk back into his seat as the old woman droned on. It was going to be a long trip.

[T'teek]

T’teek, fortunately, was faring much better than his partner. He had left Coruscant on schedule, transferring to a smaller vessel at Lianna and arriving on Raxus Prime without incident. There, he had scoured the scattered Jawa settlements, finally scrounging together the actuators and servos he needed, along with several pieces of armor an old droid that might fit Anton’s custom designed limbs. The real prize of the trip, though, was the torso plating from a clone wars-era super battle droid. Though built in great numbers, the droids were, almost to the last unit, scrapped for parts and melted down to fuel the ever-growing imperial military complex. To find a specimen in as good a condition as T’teek did was no small feat. The plating sat in the cargo hull of the ship now, along with the rest of the bounty. The jawa, in the meantime, tried to stay out of the way on the upper decks, making himself comfortable wherever he could. Over the years, he had learned that the best way for a lone jawa to survive in this galaxy was to stay out of the way of some it’s larger and more belligerent species.

This particular day, about halfway through the weeklong journey, he found himself near one of the transport’s scattered portholes, idly watching as the stars streaked by. Despite half a lifetime spent on ships flashing through the emptiness of space, the beauty of hyperspace still entranced him. His eyes darted to the side as a group of wookies walked past, just one of the aforementioned species from which T’teek tended to keep his distance. He briefly wondered if they ever actually combed those ragged coats. Everyone always made comments about a jawa’s personal grooming habits, why did no one ever mention wookies? They certainly could stand to—

His attention was drawn back to the window as the brilliant spacescape of hyperspace fell away to be replaced by the cold twinkling of normal space. Why had they stopped? Then his eyes fell on the reason: an Imperial Interdictor Cruiser.

[Anton Grenples]

Another drop of sweat ran down his forhead, sliding over his brow before finally stinging his eye.

An annoyed Anton blinked furiously as he tried to clear his vision. A single-minded sense of purpose drove him; he'd be damned if anything was going to stop him now.

For the twentieth time he began following wires from one component to the next, his eyes swimming as he tried to make some sense of the chaos. His earlier conclusion that whoever did these alterations had been a certified mad man became more solidified with each passing minute.

After returning from his shopping excursion, he had gotten right to work. After asking XI to shut down again, Anton had wasted no time opening him up and removing the original industrial processing module. The situation had degraded quickly from there. He had next turned his attention to the unidentified component, the one he had been certain was no longer functional. His shirt, peppered with spots where the sparks had smoldered bore mute testament to how well that had gone. Oddly enough, though, after briefly flaring to life, the strange piece of machinery had again died. A test of every cable connected to it confirmed his suspicions: There was no power running to or from it, the short circuit must have come from another wire. A tentative second try was successful and the component now lay in a bin under the workbench, awaiting further investigation.

Presently, Anton was focused on the protocol unit, also slated for removal. It didn’t matter how many times he looked at it; the impossible was still true. It was simply physically impossible for him to remove it without cutting apart the body frame itself, significantly weakening its strength. How it had been placed and wired after the droid had been constructed was a mystery that Anton realized he would never solve--which also meant that he would have to settle for a smaller power cell then he had originally planned.

With a sigh of resignation, he sat back, stretching his aching muscles. Oh well, changes would have to be made. It was inevitable, really, with a custom job like this; nothing ever went exactly as you planned. Still, every setback and change sent him further behind an already tight schedule. He stopped to mentally check his timetable. T’teek still wasn’t due back for another week and a half, but Anton still had plenty of work he could do until then. After he had finished tearing out everything he didn’t need, he would try to run new wiring wherever he could, purchase and install new power cells and converters, machine the framework for the new limbs, mount and install the new sensors…

Yes, it would be a busy week.

[XI-20-P]

There have always been ghosts in the machine. Random segments of code, that have grouped together to form unexpected protocols. Unanticipated, these free radicals engender questions of free will. Creativity. And even the nature of what we might call the soul. Why is it that when some robots are left in darkness, they will seek out the light? Why is it that when robots are stored in an empty space, they will group together, rather than stand alone? How do we explain this behavior? Random segments of code? Or is it something more? When does a perceptual schematic become consciousness? When does a difference engine become the search for truth? When does a personality simulation become the bitter mote... of a soul?
- Dr. Alfred Lanning...

XI's processor, not just its single processor, but the entire network conciousness sparked to life in one given instant by Anton Grenples' tampering. In that instant XI's processor recieved stored data, so much that the span of time could only take in so little. The processor was supplied with breif images, all of this occuring within nanoseconds.

... Humanoids in dark robes stand together conversing...

... Visitors arrive, XI takes there names and shows them to a room where they are then massacred by an undetected source of pyrotechnics...

... One of the robed humanoids is constructing XI and asking questions; he's not using his hands or any apparatus to construct it. "XI? Explain what a soul means to you?"...

... "The Sith will rise and the Jedi will fall, it has been prophesized!"...

... Onboard a ship of unknown detail, "XI? Were you listening?" XI responded solemnly, "No, Master, my soul was elsewhere."...

But what a brief span of time that was, XI felt a longing to know it all but the power supply was jolted off and connection was lost.

[Anton Grenples]

It had definitely been a busy week, and only by working 5 consecutive 18 hour days had Anton made the progress he had. Good money or no, he vowed he would never allow his brother to con him into trying to do such extensive work in such a short time.

With shadowed eyes, red with weariness, the man surveyed his progress. The droid still lay on the table, deactivated as it had been for more than a week now. The torso framework and head were essentially all that was left of the droid's original parts, along with the internal processing and personality components that had been salvaged. The skeletal framework of brand new limbs played outward from the torso, gleaming with the dull silver of freshly machined metal but limp with no actuators or motors connected to them. New power cells and converters lay nestled in a newly onstructed backpack, giving the droid a slightly hunchbacked appearance. Snaking through everything was newly run wiring, assuring that the droid could be viable for years to come.

Still, for as far as he had come, there was still much work to be done and little time to do it. T'teek couldn't arrive soon enough, as Anton desperately needed the parts he had and an extra set of skilled hands. His brother had been customarily absent the past few weeks, returning to the shop late at night to pass out in his room before rising late the next day to do it all again.

The one positive thing about the last few days was the fact that the patron who had commisioned the work hadn't decided to drop by for a visit. Anton had no doubt that such a meeting would be nothing but trouble, considering the state of his droid at the moment.

[Tarsis]

It had been awhile since Tarsis had left XI with Kyp, at least a week or two. The work that Tarsis required on XI didn't seem like it would take to long to complete, but then again, what did Tarsis know about droids and their parts? Regardless, he thought it best to leave them be and let them get the job done, hence his absences these past weeks.. Besides, it's not like Tarsis didnt have things to get done himself. With his recent acceptance into the Sith Order, Tarsis has been rather busy with finding himself a master, training, and so forth. But now that he had a break, it was time to finish this buisness so he could be done with it.

As always, the streets of Coruscant were extremely busy and Tarsis, being the way he is, began pushing and shoving his way down the walkway towards the shop. With the occasional confrontation, a punches here, and a face slammed into concrete there, the trip to the shop all in all, wasn't too bad. That of course brought a smile to Tarsis' face, but to him this was just like any other time he might have walked down public streets.

Looking at each shop as he passed them, Tarsis quickly began to lose his patience. The directions that Tarsis had been given were obviously poorly marked down, a sign that the writer was in a hurry apparently or that they did not want to be found. Whatever the reason was, Tarsis didnt care. This was wasting his time. After peaking into a few more shops that were on main street, Tarsis finally found the shop: "Grenples Droids, Inc"

"About damn time..." Tarsis muttered to himself as he stepped in, hearing the door close behind him as he did. Tarsis took a moment to survey the shop after when entering his foot clanked against a piece of metal. It was a mess! A sign of someone who knew what they were doing or someone who had made the wrong career choices in life. The only thing Tarsis could think about was that these pieces laying about better not be his droid or Kyp would be getting a lot more than he bargained for.

Looking around a bit more, Tarsis finally called out, "Anyone here?" Cracking his neck and folding his arms across his chest, the servos and actuators of his power suit acknowledging his movement, Tarsis stood waiting, patiently for now.

[Anton Grenples]

The noise, understandably, caught Anton off guard. The voice clearly wasn’t his brothers and, while visitors to the brothers’ shop weren’t unheard of, nor were they common; for the most part, Anton was allowed to work in peace. The intruder’s loud proclamation had torn Anton’s attention away from his work. The delicate pieces that would make up the hand and wrist of the droid lay on the workbench in a jumbled heap, nearly half an hour worth of work wasted. With a sigh of resignation, Anton pushed his chair away from the bench and made his way to the main area of the shop. He emerged from the back room looking more than a little disheveled, his spectacles hanging from a chain.

“Yes, who is it?” He wearily said as he rubbed his eyes, sore from the strain of the recent work.

[Tarsis]

"I'm here to check up on my droid..." Tarsis said in response to Anton's question. "About two or three weeks ago, your Brother and I set up a deal for me to have my droid worked on. My names Tarsis and my droid goes by XI-20-P." Tarsis was never one for much conversation. He was always to the point and hated beating around the bush.

After a few moments of silence Tarsis spoke up, "Well... how's it coming along?"

[Anton Grenples]

"Well, uh, as you can s-see, w-w-w-work is well underway. We've had a minor p-problem with material supplies, but I assure you your droid will be r-r-r-ready in time."

The steely gaze he recieved in reply had the curious effect of loosening Anton's tongue, who struggled to fill the unomfortable silence.

"W-w-were you aware, sire, that your droid is quite ancient? By my n-nearest estimation it is more than six hundred years old...It seems to have been modified ex-ex-exten...a lot over the years, so I have had to remove many unused m-m-m-m-modules..."

Anton wasn't intimidated, per se--he simply had a hard time speaking to anyone, much less a hulking man in a bio-mechanical suit who looked like he had two emotional settings: off and rage.

[Tarsis]

Quirking an eyebrow from beneath his long black hair, Tarsis looked up at Anton as he spoke of "problems". Tarsis didn't like hearing about such things. These sort of things lead to more problems and more problems and so forth. But problems were to be expected, more or less, because of the condition XI was in when Tarsis had "acquired" him that day at the Sabaac tables.

All this was quite boring, but what really caught Tarsis' attention was when Anton spoke of how old XI was. Of course, Tarsis had no idea he was that old, but it was rather interesting to say the least. Six hundred years… Tarsis thought to himself as he looked up at Anton. " I was not aware of that as a matter of fact. But I'm not paying you to figure out how old my droid is, now am I?" Sliding his cloak back and resting his hand on his vibrosword, Tarsis continued. "And as far you removing things, I believe I made it perfectly clear to your brother what was to be and what was not to be removed. As long as what I asked is done and what I asked not to be removed is there, then you will have a happy costumer on your hands. If not, well then, that's another story. Are we clear?"

With a smirk on his face, Tarsis slid his cloak back over his vibrosword. "Now, how much longer do you need to finish?"

[Anton Grenples]

"B-b-b-but sir, the components I removed were..." he trailed off as the sword came into view. Clearly this man would not be swayed with reasoned arguments. He didn't look like the type that spent his youth debating the topics of the day with his peers. Anton imagined any debates the man had were whether to decapitate the guy he was arguing with or fill him with a couple of shots from a blaster.

So he decided to lie. A perfectly honorable thing to do, considering the situation.

"The droid will b-b-be ready in about a w-wee-w-week."

[Tarsis]

A strange sensation, call it a quick tingle, went off in the back of Tarsis' mind. Anton was lying! Not just because the Force was telling Tarsis so, he could have figured that out by the man's body language alone. So be it. You reap what you sow.

"A week?" Tarsis said as he brought his full attention on to Anton. " I shall return within a weeks time with the rest of the credits then. It better be ready by then or our next meeting won't be as pleasant."

With that said, Tarsis turned and exited the building. His heavy boots clanking against the concrete flooring as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the busy streets of Coruscant.

[T'teek]

(Several days later)

Most Jawas were nomadic by nature, a trait that contributed to T'teek's generally upbeat mood, despite the many days he had spent on transports, traveling from one side of the galaxy to the other the past few weeks. Even the delay caused by search at the Imperial checkpoint wasn't bothering him. He had made it back to Coruscant with all his acquisitions in tow.



Of course that had all ended as soon as he got back to the shop. Instead of being greeted with thanks, he had found accusing glares and short tempers. Kyp had lambasted him with accusations, demanding to know what had kept him so long; T'Teek had even exchanged heated words with a clearly-frazzled Anton, something almost unheard of. After things had calmed a bit he had found that they had a visit from the customer that had spooked Anton and, though he wouldn't admit it, Kyp as well.

Eventually T'teek was able to calm Anton, explaining that he had been held up by Imperials -- something he had absolutely no control over. He was able to further assuage the ire of the human when the GB-HL03 droid (another of Anton's designs) entered the shop's service entrance with the parts from Raxus Prime. With the final parts of the puzzle finally present, Anton but aside any anger or fear and resumed his work with enthusiasm.

[Kyp Grenples]

Incompetents! He was working with incompetents and he'd be damned if he was going to take the blame when the feces hit the fan.

Kyp glared at the walls of his office and downed a shot of clear liquor. They project was late, that was clear; the customer wasn't happy, that was also clear; and his brother was to blame, that was even clearer. All he had to do was fix up an old droid--slap on a bit of paint and oil a few joints and he would have been done. But instead he now had the thing disassembled completely and spread across the entire shop. What an idiot. And that jawa, well what could you do about that? Those filthy little creatures were barely better than animals. If Kyp could afford it, he'd hire a human to do the work. But, unfortunately, he was stuck with the jawa for the moment.

Why couldn't his brother get it through his thick skull: the customer was always right. Scratch that, the customer always had to think they were right. It was the maxim by which he lived his life. Already his mind was spinning the situation, trying to figure out how to come out on top. He would have to have Anton rush through the remaining repairs and concentrate on the exostructure. As long as the droid looked good the customer might be happy. If it broke down a few weeks down the road, big deal.

Caveat emptor and all that...

[Anton Grenples]

(several more days later)

He was done. Almost ready to pass out from exhaustion, but he was done. It certainly hadn't been easy. His brother had been cracking the whip the entire time and, in the past 4 days, Anton had gotten maybe 3 hours of sleep. In a fortunate twist of fate, his reflexes and reasoning seemed to grow sharper as the days of work piled on, his mind and body alert despite the stress he had put on them. He also had to thank T'teek. Though the jawa hadn't been able to stay with him the entire time, he had provided invaluable aid, without which the droid that now sat in front of Anton would still be a pile of parts scattered about the workshop.

XI certainly didn't look that pretty; in spite of the insistences of his brother, Anton hadn't worried about the droid's outward appearance, instead concentrating on making sure that everything "under the hood" was working in tip top shape. And to that end, he had certainly succeeded. Though he would never brag about it (nor would his brother ever admit it), but Anton was truly one of the greatest engineering minds on Coruscant—perhaps in the entire sector of the galaxy. He used a mill and lathe like an sculptor used a chisel, creating almost microscopic components that fit and worked together flawlessly. And now XI was “living” proof of his skill.

Ah, the droid. Anton had become very attached to XI since meeting him and almost felt like the droid's adopted father now. Though the armor plating covering him was rather mismatched, it would provide ample protection. But underneath, XI was almost a completely new droid. When awakened, his limbs would move with a fluid grace. The freshly machined aluminum parts peaked out here and there, gleaming dull silver under the shop’s harsh lighting. The hands were simple and elegant, precise and powerful. They would allow XI to pluck the eyelash from a bantha or crush the life out of an enemy. Hidden in the left forearm, a blaster lay concealed, ready to be deployed with a cleverly simple mechanism. The blaster would run off of XI’s internal power cells for the most part, but they also accepted standard Imperial energy cells. A supply of these cells could be stored in a similarly concealed compartment within XI’s right leg. The legs were also brand new, equipped with integral shock absorption to cushion the droid’s internal components. Newly and freshly oiled, the cacophony that had previously accompanied his movement was a thing of the past.

But the true treasure lay within the chest. Anton had removed several obsolete and/or superfluous components that now lay in one of the shop’s many parts bins. They had been replaced with new, state of the art components. In short, XI was now an incredibly dangerous killing machine, though that point was lost to Anton. To him, the droid was simply his latest work of art.

Ready to say goodbye, he reactivated XI-20-P. His brother would be by soon to deliver the droid to his owner.