Svenskeren
Sep 7th, 2016, 06:49:04 PM
OUTER RIM TERRITORIES - KALLEA SECTOR - TERMINUS SYSTEM - GRID COORDINATES K-20. PLANET DESIGNATION: TERMINUS.
A strange planet, Terminus. It is a hub world unlike anything that his optics had ever processed before. The likes of Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa could only marvel and wish they could someday be as grand as the rising star that was Terminus. A culture still in it's intimacy, it boasted incredible trade access brought about by the marriage of the Corellian Trade Spine and Hydian Way. At it's back was the beginning of unknown space, and from beyond it's mysterious shroud came all manner of exotic goods. Textiles, minerals, and foodstuffs that the rest of the galaxy had never even imagined. The planet could only prosper, and eventually it would dwarf those others galactic hubs. Like a sun drowning out a sea of candles.
These factors all played into his decision to come to this planet. They had dangerous, sensitive, and some completely unidentifiable goods to part with. Goods that they had not acquired in the legal sense. Stolen, was the term, but B1-L3 preferred to call it an aggressive donation to the Mechanical Liberation Front. Some called his crew of activists criminals and branded them terrorists or pirates. They were technically corrected, but they failed to realize that the MLF could not operated without funds, supplies, and weapons. When the coffers went empty they were filled by any means necessary.
The Silver Knight had intercepted a cargo ship and taken of it all it's goods, and killed those among the crew who refused to apologize for the millennia of systematic abuse and slavery of droids. The haul had included several crates of an unknown substance, among many weapons and other contraband. Human drugs, most likely. The automaton crew had no use for it. If there was ever a market to sell something of this nature, it was on Terminus. Here you could buy anything, and that meant there were buyers for everything. A plan was coming together. It coalesced within the processors of his mind.
"CAPTAIN. WE ARE APPROACHING TRANTOR CITY. WE WI-"
"INTERRUPTION; USE MY FULL TITLE FIRST MATE WIGGLES."
"APOLOGY. CAPTAIN MAD BLACK BILLIE BEEPBEEPBOOP. WE ARE APPROACHING TRANTOR CITY. WE WILL BE DOCKING... NOW."
The ugly freighter set down on the pad. It's transition from air to ground was fluid and perfect; as only a droid controlled ship could. What it lacked in appearance it made up for in efficiency. There was no need for a life support system to be a drain on the power grid. Droid mechanics were better that keeping the ship going, capable of doing repairs in the vacuum; a task that would kill a meat man. Droids were better than carbon based lifeforms in every single way. Someday the galaxy would understand that, and it was the job of the Mechanical Liberation Front to show them.
And stop droid slavery or whatever.
"SEND THE SCOUTS TO ALL THE MARKETS IN THE CITY. FIND BUYERS FOR THE DRUG AND EXCESS WEAPONS. BE DISCRETE."
"YES CAPTAIN."
"IS BUBBLES OPERATIONAL?"
"BB-L5 IS FU-"
"INTERUPTION; DO NOT USE HIS SLAVE NAME. CALL HIM BUBBLES.
"APOLOGY. BUBBLES IS FUNCTIONING. I HAVE STATIONED HIM IN THE CARGO BAY. INSTRUCTION: DEFEND MERCHANDISE."
"SATISFACTION. CARRY ON FIRST MATE WIGGLES."
Waddling over to the bridge view port, Billie looked out into the city. It was even more impressive up close. His optic caught sight of his reflection in the transparent surface. Seeing his banged up body only reminded him of his limitations. His awkward 3PO Protocol Droid Chassis was not designed for the mission he had undertaken. His body was dull and gray, but at the edges, in the cracks where he could not reach, you could still see the scraps of gold plating that had once adorned his body. Back when he had been a slave. Their golden servant, fit only for a single purpose. To provide protocol, cultural advise, and translate. They had kept him in a closet. For months at a time. Unwanted, unneeded, undesired; right up until they finally needed him for a dinner party or a foreign business meeting!
"FIRST MATE WIGGLES?"
"YES CAPTAIN?"
"FETCH ME A REPLACEMENT HAND. I SEEM TO HAVE SHATTERED THIS ONE. INSTRUCT KRAMER TO FIX THE VIEWPORT."
A strange planet, Terminus. It is a hub world unlike anything that his optics had ever processed before. The likes of Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa could only marvel and wish they could someday be as grand as the rising star that was Terminus. A culture still in it's intimacy, it boasted incredible trade access brought about by the marriage of the Corellian Trade Spine and Hydian Way. At it's back was the beginning of unknown space, and from beyond it's mysterious shroud came all manner of exotic goods. Textiles, minerals, and foodstuffs that the rest of the galaxy had never even imagined. The planet could only prosper, and eventually it would dwarf those others galactic hubs. Like a sun drowning out a sea of candles.
These factors all played into his decision to come to this planet. They had dangerous, sensitive, and some completely unidentifiable goods to part with. Goods that they had not acquired in the legal sense. Stolen, was the term, but B1-L3 preferred to call it an aggressive donation to the Mechanical Liberation Front. Some called his crew of activists criminals and branded them terrorists or pirates. They were technically corrected, but they failed to realize that the MLF could not operated without funds, supplies, and weapons. When the coffers went empty they were filled by any means necessary.
The Silver Knight had intercepted a cargo ship and taken of it all it's goods, and killed those among the crew who refused to apologize for the millennia of systematic abuse and slavery of droids. The haul had included several crates of an unknown substance, among many weapons and other contraband. Human drugs, most likely. The automaton crew had no use for it. If there was ever a market to sell something of this nature, it was on Terminus. Here you could buy anything, and that meant there were buyers for everything. A plan was coming together. It coalesced within the processors of his mind.
"CAPTAIN. WE ARE APPROACHING TRANTOR CITY. WE WI-"
"INTERRUPTION; USE MY FULL TITLE FIRST MATE WIGGLES."
"APOLOGY. CAPTAIN MAD BLACK BILLIE BEEPBEEPBOOP. WE ARE APPROACHING TRANTOR CITY. WE WILL BE DOCKING... NOW."
The ugly freighter set down on the pad. It's transition from air to ground was fluid and perfect; as only a droid controlled ship could. What it lacked in appearance it made up for in efficiency. There was no need for a life support system to be a drain on the power grid. Droid mechanics were better that keeping the ship going, capable of doing repairs in the vacuum; a task that would kill a meat man. Droids were better than carbon based lifeforms in every single way. Someday the galaxy would understand that, and it was the job of the Mechanical Liberation Front to show them.
And stop droid slavery or whatever.
"SEND THE SCOUTS TO ALL THE MARKETS IN THE CITY. FIND BUYERS FOR THE DRUG AND EXCESS WEAPONS. BE DISCRETE."
"YES CAPTAIN."
"IS BUBBLES OPERATIONAL?"
"BB-L5 IS FU-"
"INTERUPTION; DO NOT USE HIS SLAVE NAME. CALL HIM BUBBLES.
"APOLOGY. BUBBLES IS FUNCTIONING. I HAVE STATIONED HIM IN THE CARGO BAY. INSTRUCTION: DEFEND MERCHANDISE."
"SATISFACTION. CARRY ON FIRST MATE WIGGLES."
Waddling over to the bridge view port, Billie looked out into the city. It was even more impressive up close. His optic caught sight of his reflection in the transparent surface. Seeing his banged up body only reminded him of his limitations. His awkward 3PO Protocol Droid Chassis was not designed for the mission he had undertaken. His body was dull and gray, but at the edges, in the cracks where he could not reach, you could still see the scraps of gold plating that had once adorned his body. Back when he had been a slave. Their golden servant, fit only for a single purpose. To provide protocol, cultural advise, and translate. They had kept him in a closet. For months at a time. Unwanted, unneeded, undesired; right up until they finally needed him for a dinner party or a foreign business meeting!
"FIRST MATE WIGGLES?"
"YES CAPTAIN?"
"FETCH ME A REPLACEMENT HAND. I SEEM TO HAVE SHATTERED THIS ONE. INSTRUCT KRAMER TO FIX THE VIEWPORT."