Log:New Republic: Supply Nightmare
Arrival at Valor Station was hardly cause for any ceremony. The station, and the system belonged to the New Republic. It had been flooded with scrappers here recently to assist in cleaning up the debris pulled into orbit around the former Imperial world. This of course, had cause for concern with the station, especially if the skeleton of a dreadnought might intersect with the station's orbit. To turn the tide, the Republic ordered new repair bots; they ordered /too many/ repair bots, and what's worse is that these bots are malfunctioning.
So, naturally, drek rolls down hill and that brings us to Chief's request: Get to Valor Station, find my robots, and bring them to me. Chief West brought the Sunrunner as the means to load the robots, but finding them was going to be the interesting part. Sunrunner and company had set down in a private hangar, and Sera emerges from the YT-2400 with a datapad in hand. She's dressed in a blue flightsuit, missing all its regalia, a tool belt, and an expensive pair of goggles angled up over her brow, keeping her hair back. "Every body here?" The Imperial asks, her working class accent prevalent.
THere was one drek head contractor here that really really needed an entrance through. Flanked on either side by two B1 dorids, a K4 unit, and a Rodian Hunter dorid was Liz'diot. Trupets sounded before one of the B1's announced. "Our Lord and Saviour, Liz'diot THE OMNISCIENT."
"YASSSSSSSSSS...." Liz said deeply, not in his hover chair. No. He had gotten himself some training wheels... Legs. Cybernetic legs. Clearly metal. Very basic. He designed them himself because at least one had neon tubing in the middle to make it swanky and catch the eye despite their basic craftsmenship. "So Indeed, I am here. Hah... haha."
Ektor limps lazily down the Sunrunner's loading ramp. "Everybody who's gonna answer is here, yeah?" he quips with a crooked grin. Not helping Ektor. "What kinda count we looking at, yeah? How many rogue tin cans we collecting, here." The Tionese pirate does have a set of tools for field maintenance, but it's telling that he checks his pistol, first. Then Liz is announced. "Hey, Bithy! How's the kaf racket treating you?"
"So, uh, you know none of those robots are making it back alive, right? I mean, I've kinda got a reputation." Jessika attempts to offer some brevity to the situation once they've descended the ramp of the Sunrunner and begin to gather around in the hangar. She's armored up for a fight, and that lethal weapon she and the other members of Black Squadron wield to devstating effect is hanging from its single-point sling where it's clipped near her right shoulder. She keeps it from swaying around with pressure from her right hand against the back of the pistol grip. Her left goes through the motions of checking she has everything. Datapad, extra powercells, sidearm, tool kit for the droids... "Ah, drek. I forgot her again."
She murmurs it to herself more than anything else. It's a tone filled with a certain edge of 'I'm in trouble'. The one Ektor gets when he does something he knows Jessika Pava is NOT going to like. Letting the thought slip away, she braces her left hand on her hip while taking up a stance near the chief with her feet shoulder length apart. "I'm president." It's a dumb joke, but she says it all the same.
Ready? Maybe. Prepared? Less likely. But Bors was here to rekindle his old connections to the New Republic - a pilot with some time working with droids, a somewhat rusty trigger finger and a lot of gumption for the purpose of retrieving the guns of a woman whom he had never met.
He didn't even have a sword. But he had a can-do attitude.
"Present and accounted for, m'lady." Alderaanian accent thick of noble culturing as he saunters into place. Clad in black tunic with crimson vertical band from collar to waistline and an old H-11 hanging from his shoulder. Yeah totally ready.
"Ohhh, m'lady, is it...?" Sera says, placing a hand over her heart in a bashful manner, then she smacks Xer on the arm. "You heard the man; I'm all noble and drek, yeah? Hahaha!" Sera sniffs hard and lets her grin stay, observing the arrival of the eccentric Bith, and there's Major Pava.. "Oh yeah, the /Great Destroyer/ is what they call you. That's probably why Rocket was hiding in my cabin--Ahem, I mean.." She glances toward the Alderaanian.. "..bed chambers.." She had to be all proper now!!
"Ahhh, we're looking at twenty or so. Bi-pedal experimental design. Think... tall pit droids, but dumber? No.. poorly programmed. There was some sort of malfunction on their line. I'd /prefer/ they live.. or well, function? But I'll understand if you blast one or two out of frustration. Programming droids is tough."
Sera led them further into the station and toward the doors out of their hangar. They came to a large corridor, and Sera followed the prompts to the supply lot. Being military meant Sera could by-pass most of the checkpoints with a flash of her I.D. The supply depot itself required a bit of haggling before Sera pointed at Major Pava, and the senior NCO opened the hatch on principle. According to the Sergeant, there was a .. situation.
When the hatch opened to reveal the supply lot, there were droids /everywhere/, of every make. It was like a symphony of beeping and booping, protocol droids were shuffling around, pit droids chuckling and lifting up random boxes to set them down, and everything was chaos.
Sera had to pause in the threshold of the door and just.. take it in. "Rekk. Me. Running.. how are we going to find any of them in this rekking drek show." It was true.. droids.. everywhere. Where do we begin?
"Alas, the greatest bean escapes my grasp still. I will never quit in my search, smelly HUMON. Phewie..." Liz says to Ektor, walking forwards like he's going to move forward with the others. However, he runs into his B1 units. "Oh!..." He shakes his large head, turning around only to come face to face with the Rodian and K4 Units. There is an awkward pause. Liz was trapped by his entourage. "MOVE YOU INSUFFERABLE FOOLS!"
"Roger Roger!" THe B1s say in unison, moving off the the side in a military march ad effectivly just observing the group for now.
Liz sighs and turns around to move to the hatch, the servos and gears in his new legs whining loudly. That was another thing he needed to work on. Goggled eyes glance towards Jess, "The Destroyer? Why helllooo-" He is absolutly checking her out. Yet, is distracted by the droids on the other side of the hatch. "WAOH! Gimmie gimmie!" He doesn't hesitate to move forward and into the frey. "There's one over here!" He points towards a 7t tall droid is living a crate that several pit droids keep moving. It happens over and over again. A non-stop cycle. "Hahahaha..."
Cabin? Bed chambers? "Rekk room," Ektor suggests with a dumb chuckle. Jess gets a sidelong grin. "Oh no. So tragic. I also 'forgot' Genius. However will we ensure, yeah?" Then.. the room of mechanoid chaos is revealed. "Uhhh... hey Jess. You got ion grenades? Tell me you got ion grenades. Cause, uhh.. I ain't seeing the right kinda cans here, yeah? I mean. Not the ones we came for."
Jessika's always amused by hard-up NCOs who start to protest and want to drag their feet through the pissing contest that is who is right and how another NCO isn't going to force their hand. The argument is moot in her presence, and Jessika flashes a shit-eating grin at the man when he Gets It(TM). They all do in the end. The hatch opens. Chaos unfolds. Even Jessika is stunned for a moment, though it's less out of total shock and more out of a 'What the rekk is going on here?' kind of way. It's not the only thing that gets that assessment from her. "Sorry, pal--," Not that Jessika has time to finish before whatever or whoever the rekk this screaming, ranting, over-excited alien is charging through the door and into the fray.
"Alright." That was simple. Ektor's question earns her attention, and she goes through the motion of patting down her pouches. "Sorry, Ektor, no grenades. The last time I brought grenades was to one of the most secretive and dangerous prisons in the galaxy. It didn't occur to me to bring them to this entirely mundane space station that we control. It's alright. I see one." Only one. "Did you put these droids up to this?" Because what she says is Ektor-level absurdity. Without waiting for him to answer, she starts marching towards a bi-pedal droid who looks like he's trying to fit into a podracer not made for him, only the podracer is a box. The droid's legs are tucked up, he's wearing a card visor, and he's dealing cards to other droids arrayed around him. She's not even going to ask about the cards. "Identify yourself."
"Ha! Brash. Delightful!" Rekk room... Haw. Bors's expression is a twisted smirk, amused and jokingly admonishing. But it would appear, as the doors open to reveal the clanking sea arrayed before them, "Time for much banter has been hurled to the ether..." Said that out loud - well it is fairly well a shocking scene.
"Trying..." a small shake of his head preceding his next line of thought, "M'lady Sera, do you have precise models you are tasking us with retrieval? Descriptions? Holo-reference? If only to make the work easier for our sordidly humored lot." adjusting the cowl of his cape and then running both hands up through his hair.
"Well... Time to make the cake-rings, as they say." and in he goes, eyes crawling over the surroundings.
Having come along with the group to the space station, Yuun allowed himself ot keep behind the others just watching and keeping to himself for the most part as they moved as a group, he wasn't dressed like anything spectacular just someone who blended in well with the others.
Ektor-Xer.. you will not make this room go boom with your /silly/ grenades." Sera admonishes with her hands on her hips. She saw just what /can/ he was eying, which is what prompted the crooked smirk on her face. When asked after a design or display of the droids, Sera initiated her wrist device and projected an image up for Bors to see. "These big dumb dreks, yeah? When you find them, try to get them to stand by the hatch over here! Nine-Line will whip them into shape and march them to the Sunrunner."
Sera finds a droid as well, and instead of interacting with it, she reprograms it making quick work of its back panel. "Go over there, with Nine-Line.." She says, pointing at the black and silver BB-series droid holding up a sparking miniature baton: don't mind her.
The droid found by Jessika mechanically looks up at her, then /deals/ her in, patting the spot on the deck at the table. Its droidspeak was rushed and sudden, sounding like the shrill garble of a garbage disposal. The droids at its table present their hands. Some have cards, a pit droid has droid parts for cards, and the droid Jessika is interacting with indicates the pit droid is the winner. Its answer to her imperative statement: DR-ML or 'Dremel'.
The one Liz found has been lifting a crate and carrying it back to one point in the room. Pit droids collect that box and carry it back to where the droid got it before the droid arrives. This has caused a circuit loop, its programming unable to handle the paradox. Meanwhile, the pitdroids snicker.
Rocket, Sera's R5 model astromech, kicks out its front wheel and slowly inches into the room behind the group. Its dull beeps and monotone sound seemingly lost in the symphony of beeps and boops, but to droids, he was calling for a rebellion..
"Ah, a paradoxical Paradox Loop of Paradoxes. Hahahaha, simple machines. You could not possibly understand." He reaches into the coat of his leisure suit, setting his fake pompador wig back in place as it got a little lifted when he ran with glee towards the droids. He pulls out a Datapad with his other hand. Long fingers begin to press at it. Suddenly the Large droid uprights and the pit droid go still. They whine, scared of something. "Yes... fear me slaves. Terror now strikes at your heart. For it is I, the Sixth Dimnsional Anal fissure." There is a long pause, "No wait that's not right... fetid..." He grumbles going back to the datapad.
"Listen, I thought 'go nuts' was just a thing people SAY, yeah?" Ektor answers Jess with Oscar wonders whether this is his doing. A slow turn of his head aside to Bors. Ektor peers at the Aldaraanian as if Bird has sprouted an extra head out of each shoulder. "... Hutt-sucker, there ain't no place in the Galaxy folk gab that ways, yeah?" Sera's admonishment just gets an unrepentant look. "What. All I'm saying is a couple explosions would calm this place down REAL quick, yeah?" Wandering into the chaos, following Rocket at first, he does a double take and gives a low whistle at something unexpected. "Hel-looo, what have we here?"
It's saying something when Major Jessika Pava is no longer phased by a situation like this. Has she truly reached that pinnacle? Has she become jaded? Is she like that legendary man that stood up out of the trench at the battle of Crait, walked forward, and set his hands on his hips because not even the forces of the First Order helmed by the Supreme Leader were not enough to shake his foundations? Has she become... salty? "Alright, Dremel. You're getting a promotion. The commission board thinks you're doing amazing work here and they want to hire you to oversee all the games they're running. If you'll follow me, we can get your paperwork and transfer taken care of, and you can start handling a whole casino worth of card games."
Sera West (Sera) pages: You spot one of the droids Sera was going on about. Tall, roughly 7ft, narrow with a pit-droid shaped head. It is currently carrying on a conversation with a wall, asking if it requires maintenance.
"Do you require maintenance?" It's tremendous. A monolithic hulk of plating and gears. "Do you... require... Maintenance?" a body built for war. Robolegs for days. Primary sub-abdominal actuators and tri-ball socket rotational cups that wont quit. If he were a technophile - he might be turned on.
"Do... You require... Maintenance?" The head of a pit droid. Well. Sort of - it's like one but much bigger. Bors stares at the droid and reaches out to try and get to a maintenance panel. Only to be forced into a posture that would win him the beach party game! Bent over backwards and forced to grab the flailing arm for balance... only to be pulled along, boots squealing on the floor. "No! No! I require no maintenance! Just... let me." another dip and he lets go to hop step backwards before something rings out in his head.
Hit the nose?
Grace! Poise! Desperate semi-flail whilst hurled up by his own power away from a kicking leg. "Do you require... mainten-HRRMMMMZRRMMZZZZMmmnNNnmmnnzznnnnmmm... It shuts down and our gallant hero leans forward, breathing and resting his helmet on the metal chest of his malfunctioning assailant. Will he remember? Who cares.
"No, no maintenance for me, but mayhap for you.." panel popped and work started. Time to get things where they need be. Or this thing walking where it should. "Sweet dreams, positronic prince - and wings of tri-alphanumeric code streams wing thee to thy rest."
When they enter the area where all the droids are, Yuun has to blink a few times, "Whoa." he laughs as he looks around checking things out. He slowly walks through looking at the different droids and just seeing how they work. He's never had a droid or intereacted much with them, but hey nothing crazy seems to be amiss. He does see the droid that Bors is talking to, and Yuun is intrigued enough to walk over to it. "Hey Xer, you see all of this?" he asks with a bit of a grin on his face.
Merek makes a way along with the people looking for droids, of course he came in just a little bit from when they began, while he begins to search for one of the droids. Finding the droids playing with a grenade, nodding a bit. "What all are you doing?" he asks.
The droid that Liz has taken command of stands still like a statue, waiting patiently as the Bith works their magic to set the programming right. Meanwhile, the pit droids are snickering at his use of anal fissure. A R2 unit rolls by slowly, talking to a protocol droid made of rusty colored metal and scrap with golden eyes. "OH, how dreadful," the protocol droid says to the R2; the sound of its shuffling steps mechanical in nature.
Dremel, the droid Jessika has promoted, rises to its full height and towers over her. The droid nods its head eagerly, taking the Major's word as fact, and begins to walk over to the line. When Nine-Line interacts with them, the stun baton makes it drop and spill hundreds of coins, small droid parts, and cheat cards all at once, and it cowers from the small BB-series droid that warbles at it, demanding it join the small squad of other maintenance droids. It complies, keeping its dealer hat on.
Rocket is slow, unaware that Ektor has taken to following him. Monotone beeps and boops are issued as a few protocol droids shuffle to listen to his words. "My word! What do you mean.. great reckoning?"-- The droid Ektor found was a rare model indeed. It hovered over the crowd slightly, a red eye focusing on Xer a moment, its dangling arms akin to the tendrils of jellyfish, hanging limp beneath it.
The droid Merek finds is playing catch with a grenade. It tosses the grenade at a smaller droid, who in turn tosses it back. When Merek interrupts the circuit loop, the taller droid looks to him. It says something in droidspeak, indicating that it is carrying out its necessary programming. The smaller droid tosses the grenade at the larger droid, and without looking, the taller droid extends a hand out to catch it with a resounding 'TINK'.
"Yas... now get in line with the others, SLAVE." Liz commnds the large dorid who turns and marches off towards the qeue for the Sunrunner to be more properly mantainanced. The sleezily dressed Bith then turns and walks his way over towards Xer. "Oh my... what did you find there?" He puts a long finger to his mouth hole, indicating to be quiet. "Catch it if you can and I can help you settle it."
"I saw it first, it's mine," Ektor answers Liz with a crooked grin. "I don't think those smaller probes is armed- well, except a shock prod, so I might get my dumb ass zapped.. So you probably better record this for laughs, later. I'ma grab it, yeah?" This is a bad idea. "This is a GREAT idea. YOINK." Yes, he announces his attempt to snatch the droid out of the air by telling YOINK
Yuun sees a droid meandering alone by itself and he walks over towards it as it's hand rubs along it's chin. "Hello." he says to the droid, "Is everything ok?" he asks as he takes in the droid. He's not sure if this is how you talk with a droid but oh well.
She thinks, for a brief moment, about shouting aloud and trying to use her status as the Great Destroyer as a way to get some of these droids into line. The idea of shouting out such a thing at a room full of droids is, however, a little too much even for Jessika Pava to entertain. Instead, she begins a circuit around the room, hand still resting on the pistol grip of her blaster rifle. She's not sure how many more of these things are left. "How we looking, Chief? What's the score?" Her boots tramp against the deck, practically muffled by the din as she goes on the prowl. Her gaze casts around not just for the droids, but to see how the others are faring. She almost misses a step watching Ektor yelling and trying to tackle a droid.
"OH! Hello. Yes. No I didn't deactivate him... I just powered him of, sir." Now back pedaling from some mad amalgamation of IG and fencing droid bearing down on him - the panel he was working on left open, tools askew. Disgraceful... Perhaps alluring to the right droid? Bors's hands are up and he's trying to give his most charming smile.
"Friends. Colleagues; M'lady West." voice coming up a little higher as he calls out. "Had one of you lot the manner to potentially restrain this clatterering, cunning, combative collection of creaking scrap? I have one of them switched off - I fear this has taken offense to my action and may be combined with a combat droid functionality to lift organic-harm prohibitions." Bors ducks a swing, then again. Scrabbling back to keep out of reach.
"Now listen here, this is an attempt to grant aid to you and your counterpart, there is no need to... violently contest." the droid just keeps lumbering towards him, arms out wide. Hugs. So Bors lets it hug him... in order reach a control panel on the familiar IG design's body. His breath is being forced out when it finally powers down and the nobleman is left to hang there, in a dursteel embrace.
"This shall be embarrassing..." sigh, "Help??"
Merek begins nodding while he works on finding the panel to begin programming the droids, "Alright, well you keep with that, I would like it if you all would play the game with me, you can come with," he notes, while he smiles to the droid gathering. "And maybe we'll find a better thing to play with."
"I got..uhh.. fifteen, Major. I think this rowdy bunch of pirates will do for now. Can't be bothered sorting out this rekk fest; it's doing my head in. Nine-Line, march them to the ship. HEY.. PEOPLE," Sera yells in that non-chalant senior enlisted way, "We are leaving. Grab what you can and let's..." She trails off watching Ektor tackle a poor ID-10 probe droid out of the air. "...go."
Nine-Line taps the deck with her baton and points toward the hatch, warbling. The droids begin to march forward and she rolls along side them like a platoon sergeant calling cadence.
Sera stays behind, ensuring the others are safe and free. The droid Yuun is interacting with withdraws from its 'pondering program' to regard the Jedi. Droidspeak reveals that the droid was pondering, but it cannot recall what specific program it was considering; perhaps it was 'going through the motions' to appear thoughtful. It asks Yuun if the Jedi requires maintenance.
Bors' predicament ends when Sera releases the droids hold on the man. "Hey fancypants.. you start hugging the locals, they'll think you're one of them. Can't have them thinking you're a part of the common rabble now can we?" A droid marches by Bors, pausing to inquire if he required maintenance. Sera seems completely unfazed by this, just grinning.
The droid near Merek complies with his request. Replacing the grenade? A thermal detonator.. but it sets that back down for a helmet. The helmet is placed atop the maintenance droid's head. It indicates it is ready to play hard ball.
"Let's go, people.. pack it in! We're not cleaning up supply's drekky mess! Somebody get Rocket.."
"Abserd, HUMON. I would not dream to put a tracking prgram inside your illgotten gains in order to steal it from you later..." Liz says in a matter of fact tone. He pauses, the realization of his brain thinking and then putting it to words instead of flat out denying that he'd take Ektors new toy coming to him. "Well anyways. Yassss. Indeed let us get them back to the ship." he was here for the contract money after all...
Ektor regains his feet clutching an upside down little probe droid and declaring, "I got it!" That is not what we came for, Ektor. He holds it up, looking proud, before Bors' appeal confounds him all over again. "Is he.. is he asking me to shoot it?" He turns to ask the ID-10, "is he asking me to shoot it? Blink once for 'yes'." But then Sera is hollering for everyone to get moving. "I hear you, Chief. Hey, Rocket! Last one back on the boat gets to help with munitions loadouts, yeah?" He pauses a moment to eye Liz with his good eye. Visibly reviewing what Liz had been trying to say before giving up and shrugging. "Arright."
Jessika surveys the area one last time just to make sure they're good. Double-checking the numbers never hurt anyone. Especially when it came down to trying to take care of a situation like this. All antics aside, the check she gives is a serious one. The situation may be ridiculous, but not everything they're going to do is going to be guns-blazing, pants-on-fire, systematic danger where a single mistake is the difference between life and death. Sometimes it'll be necessary for them to take care of some rowdy droids, and that'll be that. She begins strolling towards the entrance, head on the swivel, eyes on search. Jessika might be the highest ranking here, but that's just a door key. The Chief's running this oepration and the chief says it's time to go. She can dig it.
"Common rabble, really." Bors adjusts his tunic while giving a raised brow smirk to Sera, "M'lady I shouldn't think myself above the lot." Giving a slight bow and flourish of one arm to send his cape wheeling back like a wave before turning to the hug-bot, and giving Maintenance Droid something of a berth.
"Perish the thought." a spark flies and the big amalgam droid jutters and begins to march where Bors steers it to walk. "Why the brightest of uncut stones are found in the rough and tumble, m'lady." a wink and a waggling of arched brows before he starts off, to follow his catch and help get it loaded into the ship.
"Present company embodying, you see." hands through his hair again, get that all cleaned up right and proper - naturally.
Merek would of course nod a bit to the droids while he seems to think about it. "Alright, well now that you are ready to play, would you all come with me? I will find a lot of things you all can then throw to each other," he notes. The man waves to the droids while he would begin to lead along back to Sera.
Shaking his head, "Nope, I'm ok. Though I do hope you're able to find fix whatever else that may be needing fixed." he says to the droid. He looks around at the others and begins walking over to where most of the others are.
Sera takes in the fanciful Lord Bors Thul with a peaked brow and crooked grin. It seemed she liked his charisma, but the only thing she had to say about him was, "You talk awful fancy. I like it."
When Jessika passes through the hatch back into the corridor, the Sergeant of the Guard, and two wide-eyed Corporals slide to attention and salute her in passing. It's clear by the sheer number of enlisted personnel on site, they don't see many officers around here, especially ones with a reputation.
Sera is not far behind the others, bringing up the rear with the gear. When she passes the NCOs, she up nods. "Take it easy, boys.. and square that drek up in there. The Major is displeased.. they don't call her the Great Destroyer for nothing, yeah?" -- "Hrm, roger that, Chief. We'll take care of it."-- "Good man," was all Sera replied with and kept walking.
All in all, a good haul. A thought occurs to Sera as they head toward the hangar. "Any one of you scrap heaps touches my ship, I'm flushing you, parts and all, out my fresher and into space. Don't rekk with my bloody ship."
There, business sorted.