"The Trantor Pigeon is a handsome aerialist with a blue back and a white chest. It's a familiar sight in such ecumenopolis as Coruscant, although the airways of Nar Shaddaa have unfortunately become too polluted for the species to successfully breed. The birds nest in pipes and other openings in the sides of buildings. They feed on small pieces of food and crumbs left behind by city inhabitants, making the species a valuable addition to any city's efforts to clean and tidy its streets."
... "Who reads this kind of crap for fun?"
"The Dagle is a powerful winged creature native to the planet Dagobah. Its diet consists primarily of meat carrion, much like a vulture. It's rather large, with long legs. And quite well capable of carrying off small children who wander too far from their homesteads."
... "Gods. Reki, you're such an asshole."
"The Orokeet is a friendly game bird native to the planet of Alderaan, and often kept as a pet by the peoples of that world. Its bill and legs are bare and brown in color, with short, rounded wings and plumage that is primarily green. Its diet consists mainly of grasses and grains."
Gaibriel raised his head up from the surface of the table where he'd fallen asleep, blinking down towards the thin trail of drool he'd left there on the surface and grimacing. He rubbed the side of his face, clearing away the sleep lines the edge of the datapad had indented, there. He muttered, "I've so got to keep a copy of this. Save countless insomniacs all across the galaxy!"
Gorry had a knack when it came to machines. His earliest memories involved toddling after his father, as he'd manuevered through the various moving gears and stamping presses of the factories where he'd worked through the bright Mantellian days. He'd played with the welders and drivers laying about, scampered among the broken pipes and twisted wires of the manufactories. He'd first climbed into the guts of a hydraulic piston when he was only weeks shy of his sixth birthday, only because he was the smallest one there who might manage to repair the inner wranglings of the machine.
His father was the one who gifted him with his first toolset a mere two days later. An early birthday gift, he was told, while his beaming mother watched from nearby. He'd always made them so proud, so eager. They'd bragged over his intelligence, his verve through all the years of his young life. And nothing delighted him more than knowing they believed in him.
Not until he listened to the very first calls of the Seperatist propangandist during a weekend trip to the trader's district in the city of Worlport. He'd stopped when he first discerned the fiery rhetoric, looking towards the speaker as he ranted from atop a sturdy crate. The man's eyes glittered passionately as he declared, "Now these outsiders from the Republic think they can come here and tell us what's best for Mantellian homes, communities! As if they can know such things from their posh apartments there on Coruscant! I tell you this - we're independent and we should stay independent!" He'd raised his fist, then, swearing as if to the gods told in the old stories, the ones that described them up in the heavens. And Gorry had fallen headlong into thrall, to the magnetism, the incredible pulsing power of the cause.
His parents were not so pleased. Especially when Gorry dug in his heals and swore he'd not abide by their terrible dictates. To him, his parents were suddenly lodestones around his neck, dragging at him with their old, tired refrains about duty and career and family. They deplored everything - his new mannerisms, the little sayings he used to display his newfound patriotism, all of it. His father even swore over the way he styled his hair, coloring it to match his starched uniform with its stiff, stitched-on patches that spoke of his rank and responsibility. It was like nothing he did or believed in made sense to them. For a time, Gorry mourned the sense he was moving so far apart from his parents. But he always seemed to find comfort in the advice and consideration from his comrades, the ones who fought beside him.
They respected him! Sometimes, at least. Not like his father and mother, who always regarded him with sad, tired eyes since he'd joined the Seperatists. Like he'd died, or something! Mind-boggling!
Gorry glanced up when the console in front of him began a steady refrain, blinking shrilly and trilling a low, steady alarm. The loud caterwauling sound distracted him utterly from his work. "Not again," he complained, twirling his chair closer to the console so that he could reach its surface, press frantically at a series of flashing buttons. 4-Sen trundled closer to him, of course. Obedient, subservient - just as Gorry had intended.
Now, if only he could get the thing to back up its properly servile attitude with equal fervor for the cause, the droid would be perfect, his efforts and work finally recognizable and appreciated. The others in his unit, for now, only choked back the worst sort of laughter, deriding him for his patriotism, his sense of loyalty and duty. Not everyone was so focused on the momentum of their movement as he was. But 4-Sen could change that, could convince so many people of the righteousness of the movement. As he himself had been convinced by similarly fiery rhetoric. If only the bugs in the 4-Sen's programming weren't so subtle, so dang hard to root out. Why couldn't he fix the machine until it worked right?
He chuffed a frustrated sigh, almost banging the palm of his hand against the console. "It's no use! We're going to have to access the computer in the Main Room, 4-Sen. Come along." The droid followed him, its unfettered parts clanking against the metallic floor as they passed through the hallway. Gorry was confused by the quiet, wondered bemusedly if the members of his unit had left for some sort of mission without telling him. Wouldn't be the first time, actually. They seemed to delight in making pranks against him, in fact.
"Master, our primary objective is not being achieved by this course. It is imperative we discover the location of those base servants of the Republic as soon as possible."
Gorry sighed loudly. He could feel the same familiar frustration sliding along the line of his shoulders, "You're still not saying it right, 4-Sen. The way I taught you, remember?" How was it even possible a droid could so easily forget anything, in fact? There had to be something he was doing wrong, something in 4-Sen's programming that wasn't adjusting properly. Maybe there was something improper in the droid's wiring. Gorry's mind swam, as he turned the puzzle over and over in his head, especially as 4-Sen began chanting the more familiar refrain. Complete with, "They'll swim in flaming lakes of justice by the time we're done, master." It obviously knew what he was supposed to say, so why did it so often say different?
That's when Gorry stopped, staring at the man standing in front of the computer he was looking to access. "Oh. Hey. You're new. Did you just recently join the unit?" He must have, anyway. He was still dressed in standard spacefarer attire - with a blue jacket criss-crossed by brown buckles that stretched across his firm, round shoulders and snug leather boots that covered his feet - rather than the regular patched and frayed uniforms so common to the more land-based Seperatist units. The man cocked his black-haired head towards Gorry, shooting him a sardonic grin as his bright blue eyes twinkled at him. "I'm happy to see we're getting new fighters to the cause. Hey, I really do need that computer, to check on some strange power flucuations. Do you mind?"
4-Sen pointed suddenly, "Master. I'm detecting the remains of prior squad mates." Gorry gaped, while the stranger suddenly broke off from his work at the computer to come trotting over to stand alongside him. The stranger whistled as he considered the shattered bodies of the three men who'd just that morning teased Gorry for the fancy new patches he'd stitched onto the front of his uniform. The ones that showed a spiffy flag on them.
"By the stars, would you look at that? They've managed to invade our base? But ... How could this happen?"
Gorry pursed his lips tightly shut, "I'm not sure. But I wouldn't put anything past those nefarious evil-doers intent on dragging us under Republic control! We have to secure the base!"
4-Sen's neck cranked a loud metallic noise as it shook its head, loud as they all stood there in solemn regret over their lost comrades. "Master, I do not detect any sign of hostile activity. Perhaps ..."
The stranger reached out suddenly, yanking the droid close enough he could peer into the wiring that ran along the line of its spine up into the interior of the metal skull. Gorry was impressed the man seemed knowledgeable on droid mechanics, actually. He briefly considered asking him for advice concerning 4-Sen's programing. But he wasn't certain he'd be able to sacrifice time enough, unfortunately. Rather, he listened to the man's advice, "When's the last time you calibrated this droid's security protocols? It's vital to conduct such routine maintenance on a steady basis, you know. I could show you a manual that describes the procedure if you'd like."
Gorry nodded. "You're absolutely right, comrade. I'll perform my checks immediately!"
The man raised up a hand, halting Gorry's impending rush out of the room, "Oh, no! Make sure you secure the base firstly! Whoever managed to do this dastardly deed should be punished. In fact! I'll check the entranceway right this second! You cover me, here! Make sure no one gets to the computer!"
"Of course! Hurry, friend! I'll manage to hold off any invaders, here. With my life, if need be!"
"Good to know! Stand by, I'll be right back!"
Gorry smiled after him as the man moved away, hurrying up the stairwell towards the doors that lead away from the room. He smiled towards 4-Sen, "See, 4-Sen? That's the sort of hero that will win this war for the Seperatist cause, mark my words!"
Gaibriel leaned his head back against the chair, rubbing his neck back and forth against the rest, there. Damn, but his entire body was aching. Once he had the Way back, with all of his spiffiest speeders tucked up inside, he'd never walk a single step across any planet again! How did people even live this way, just stuck on a single unmoving world so that the ground didn't hum under their feet? He rubbed a tired hand against the back of his neck, trying to smooth out the tight coil of stressed muscles there.
Ah, damn. What he wouldn't do for a massage, he thought morosely. Preferably before he sent a holocall to Wicks. Yea, right. Maybe he'd just hold off on that particular call until Ord Mantell was a distant dot on the horizon. Or better, maybe he'd never say a word about this entire debacle. Just keep mum. Quiet-like. His own little secret. Forever. Then he caught sight of Corso, sitting out of the way in a single chair down at the end of the table. The soldier was very obviously biting his lip as he quickly raised a cup up to his mouth.
Figures. Well, at least the story of Gaib's jaunt through the Seperatist compound was worth a laugh or two. Because it was certainly not something he'd be able to hide for long. Hell, with the way his luck was going, Wicks had already heard everything there was to know. Hey, maybe Skavak had called Wicks! Bastard would probably get off on the added insult, even. Gaib scowled, thinking how he'd enjoy planting his fist right smack dab in the center of Skavak's laughing face.
For now, he only snorted towards Viidu, watching through half-lidded eyes as the chunky fellow swallowed another long gulp from his gleaming metallic cup, "All I know is if there's another treatise on bird life involved, I'm not doing it. No more 'flutterplumes' or 'gulls' or 'jack-a-dales'! I mean it, Viidu! I just about died of boredom reading through that crap."
Viidu chuckled, "Yea, well, Reki's little code got you through the doors, right?"
"Probably would've managed a better way inside, regardless. Those monkeys barely knew the difference. One of them asked me to help take out the Republic troops invading the base! Although, Reki did have a pretty nice set-up out there, now that I think on it. Couple of pretty ladies were happily taking care of him." He closed his eyes and shifted his head against the back of the chair again. "I bet they rub his shoulders for him. Lucky dog."
Viidu was staring at him with wide eyes, while Corso lost the fight to keep from laughing. Corso guffawed, in fact, rolling so hard against his seat he almost fell out of the thing onto the floor. Gaib smirked at him as he fought to regain his balance there in his chair. Viidu sputtered, "What do you mean, Republic troops?"
Gaibriel shrugged, "Hey, I could've just shot the kid! But he was so helpful after I told him the base was being invaded, that I just couldn't manage it. Far as I know, he's still busy securing the doors and recalibrating his droid."
Corso held up one hand, as if asking for mercy. "Please, captain! Not sure I can handle anymore!" Gaibriel shrugged, smiling as he wearily closed his eyes. Viidu spluttered for another few moments, trying to take in the amazing story just one more time. Then he leaned forward as he described a new task, his tone hopeful the thing could be accomplished.
Gaib listened to Viidu and Corso arguing, with the younger fellow insisting the job was too dangerous. Something about handling a toxic payload. He leaned his head back against the chair, dozing lightly enough while they bantered over the potential risks. He certainly didn't volunteer any information about his ability to withstand toxic poisoning. None of their business, anyway. And he was damn tired, regardless.
Syreena bit her lip oh so softly as she watched Skavak's holoimage. She knew him well enough to recognize the intimate signs of agitation there in his frame. He wasn't sweating, at least not yet. But there was a telltale tic along the line of his temple that betrayed the upset he was struggling to hide from her. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, looking towards the upper landing of the warehouse where she'd seen the ship captain disappear, ducking through the doorway into Viidu's office.
"You're positive he got the database, that he got into the damn stronghold on Mannet Point? How the fuck did he manage it? That place was locked down tighter than a virgin's ass!"
Syreena slowly exhaled the breath she'd been holding as she listened for footsteps on the landing above. She wanted to scream at Skavak, actually. Not like she cared about the Seperatists, anyway. Just him. But she was sitting here, in the middle of a complete and total mess, and Skavak didn't seem worried about her at all. If he'd expressed even a moment's concern – just a jot of tiny consideration over how much danger she was in – then maybe she wouldn't be so annoyed. But he just rolled his damn eyes at her. Figures.
She really was starting to hate the entire male half of the human species. Selfish users, all of them. "How the hell am I supposed to know? It's not like I went with him!"
"Now, now, honey. No need to get all bent out of shape, here. It's just, that database will provide him a heads-up where I'm hunkering down. Since I'm the one with the ship, that means both our asses are in deep trouble." He crooned at her, damn him. That smooth careful manner of his never failed to tantalize her senses. "You know I just go out of my mind thinking of you stuck here on Ord Mantell, with me unable to save you."
Syreena melted. Like a gooey ooey puddle right there on the floor. "Don't worry. I'll think of something. I mean it, Skavak."
He rubbed his chin as he canted his head, thinking. "Maybe the answer lies with our resolute captain. Seems that Viidu's latched onto him, anyway. If we stick to the captain, we'll have a better idea what they're all up to. Think you can get him to trust you, sweetheart? Like Viidu, maybe."
She frowned. "You know I hate it, that Viidu even touches me. And now you want some strange smuggler captain all over me, too? I love you, Skavak! Damn it, what kind of guy is okay with his woman being mauled by other men?"
"I'm not okay with it! I just understand, is all! It's not like I blame you, or anything. What kind of man would I be if I turned away, just because you did what was necessary, what was needed?" He moaned as if in terrible distress, his pale brown eyes all scrunched up with pain. She sighed mournfully.
"I'm sorry, Skavak." Only Savak was so damn capable of making her feel like a complete and utter shit. She clucked her tongue as she worked to soothe him, "I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes. But damn it. I love you a lot, baby."
"I know! We just have to do a little bit more before we can get away. Scot free, sweetheart. I swear!" He smiled at her, his voice dripping with the honey-laden sweetness she absolutely adored. She felt spellbound as she regarded him. She was so lucky he wanted her, loved her. Because the man could surely wheedle a queen straight off her damn throne with that rich gaze and warm sing-song voice. "Now … all you have to do for me is …"
