Open Coruscant Flee Market

[Trini Halrixien]

ZZ-4A4's own photoreceptor whirred as what looked to be an old medical droid stooped into his field of vision. The even older astrogator droid felt the digital equivalent of relief run through his circuits; this type of mechanical could almost always be relied on to be helpful.

"Greetings, friend It0." Zeezee replied."I am ZZ-4A4, ZZ-series astrogator droid. My friends call me Zeezee."

The droid gestured with his manipulator arm, still clutching the new motivator Trini's organic friend had discovered. He waved toward the brilliantly polished silver starfighter It0 had seen earlier.

"I must get to that ship, the Silver Bolide!" The little droid responded to It0's question. "Before Trini and that Sector Ranger catch up. They must not be allowed to stop me, lives could be at stake, droid and organic!"

Zeezee's head turret swiveled, and his photoreceptor focused on an ascending turbolift, its doors opening to reveal two figures who were very familiar.

"Maker, here they come! Please hurry!"

Trini and Corran emerged from the turbolift into Lina Soh Memorial Spaceport's mid-level terminal, immediately having to fight a path through the milling crowd. At the Sector Ranger's question, Trini answered.

"When I was doing maintenance on the Silver Bolide awhile back, I found what looks like an antique tracking device in one of the landing gear wells. I don't know how long it's been there, but it looks ancient; frozen in place with enough carbon buildup that I'd probably have to rent a beam drill to get it off. Luckily, it's really obsolete, so I doubt anyone who even knew about it would be able to use it to track me."

She turned back to Corran with a grin.

"That is, unless they had a minor in Republic-era communication formats, which I just happen to! I can activate the beacon by remote, and-"

Trini's ear perked at a familiar electronic voice, turning and calling out.

"Zeezee?! Zeezee hold on, we're coming!!"

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[It0]

"Maker! Here they come! Please hurry!"

The med-droid scanned the length of the terminal in the direction of Zeezee's frantic gesturing. There, barely visible among the dense crowd, a bank of turbolifts ferried passengers to and from the terminal. One lift's door slid open and between the mass of bodies, Ito could faintly make out its occupants. One, an animated, if mousey-looking Amaran burst from the turbolift's interior, keen eyes almost immediately finding Zeezee. Her companion was more worrisome. A flaxen haired human male with a blaster ornamenting each hip. Something in his gait suggested a whiff of the law.

It0 turned back towards the shining craft near the rear of the pad. The Silver Bolide had Zeezee called it? He gauged the distance at just over 150 yards. The landing pad was crowded, but the crowd was thickest between the pair of droids and the turbolift banks. The press of sentients would slow their pursuers down, but not for long.

"I suggest we move Zeezee!" It0 said, breaking for The Silver Bolide.

Remotely wondering what the diminutive droid could have done to drawn the pursuit of a lawman, It0 became starkly aware of his own blaster bouncing rhythmically against the alum casing of his hip. He was unintentionally violence-prone by droid standards, but there was little in It0 that desired biological harm. Still, should the choice narrow to a droid's freedom or its return to captivity, the medical droid would not hesitate. The blaster thwapped loudly against his hip once more.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

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[Corran Velt]

Finally some good news. The Silver Bolide had a tracking device on it. Well, sort of. Only one that Trini could activate and actually interact with. The amount of specialized education was dizzying. To a blue-collar son like Corran, such higher learning was always out of reach and often a mystery. Trini wasn't helping. She did manage to hear her astromech among the hustle and bustle of the spaceport. ZeeZee was here. Somewhere. Unlike the more spacious pathways of the market below, the starport was more crowded and didn't have constant exit routes. Only boarding and leaving.

As Lieutenant Velt followed the furry alien into the spaceport, the crowds grew more tightly compacted. Must have had a few shuttles land near one another. "Sector Rangers, coming through. Excuse me. Make some space." Most denizens were quick to get out of the way, but people not in the immediate path to visualize the badge kept on their way; dragging luggage and grogginess with them. Only by bumping shoulders and vocal commands did the broad-shouldered man make any headway against the torrent of passengers leaving the building. For Trini, it would be much easier. She was smaller and more nimble.

Bodies and heads parted only for the briefest glimpse through the crowd. Corran jutted his head to one side and twisted his neck to get the best angle. The square, boxy ZeeZee was only partially visible. "I see ZeeZee! Up head!" While slowed down, the blond ranger was still tall and acted as a lookout for the smaller Amaran. Something else was weird though. Next to the astromech was a... medical droid? Could medical droids repair other droids? He was almost certain they specialized solely in organics. Just as the small window between compacted bodies closed, the Sector Ranger saw it. A blaster clanking off the chassis of the taller robot. His eyes opened wide in surprise for an instant before returning to a serious glare. Now that wasn't normal.

The weapon hadn't been drawn yet and rules of engagement were clear. Corran kept his own weapons holstered but grew more determined to investigate. If only this wave of passengers would get out of the way. With grunts and pardons, the man continued to wedge his path through hoping to make up the time on the other side.

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[Trini Halrixien]

ZZ-4A4 strained the improvised repairs to his motivator, a part of his central processing unity lamenting the fact that he hadn't had time to stop and get the replacement part installed. He wondered, briefly, if this It0 had any experience performing such repairs on droids; surely a medical droid had the fine motor control for such things?

Not bothering to reply, Zeezee sprinted alongside the 2-1B, noticing for the first time the blaster strapped to the other droid's hip. He was about to comment on it, when the sound of Trini's voice came to his ears. His head turret swiveled, taking in the sight of Trini and Corran making their way through the crowd.

No, they must not!

"Agreed! Hurry, up into the cockpit!"

As Zeezee approached the silver starfighter, he sent a brief burst from his internal comlink, rousing the ship's computer. The craft's cockpit canopy whirred open obediently, and a hatch opened in the Silver Bolide's ventral hull, a sling telescoping down which Zeezee rolled into in a practiced manner, and was lifted up into the ship's in-cockpit droid socket.

"I know this is a lot to ask, but we need to depart for Nar Shaddaa right away! I have business there that's waited far too long for my comfort, and the Galaxy's safety..."

Trini growled in frustration as she fought her way through the crowd, Corran's size actually proving an advantage in the heavy foot traffic. Few people even saw the Amaran, given her short stature, and more than once she yelped in pain as someone stepped on her tail.

At Corran's words, Trini strained to peer through the crowd, just barely catching sight of the astrogator droid in the company of a taller, silver-cased mechanical, both briskly making their way toward the Silver Bolide, still set in its berth in short-term parking. As she watched, however, Trini cursed as the cockpit transparisteel slid open, and Zeezee's boarding sling telescoped down. She could hear the whine of turbines starting to spin up over the crowd noise.

"Kriff, they're about to take off!!"

Fumbling, Trini removed a datapad from one of her pockets, hurriedly activating it and hunting a program she had written months earlier. Clumsily entering codes, she continued to make her way toward the Silver Bolide, although by now it was plain they would be too late.

Unbeknownst to the two droids, however, a barely recognizable lump of technology in one of the little starfighter's landing gear bays began to pulse a hyperwave signal...

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[It0]

For a moment It0 could little but watch the astromech's practiced entry into the starfighter while he remained stranded on the landing pad. The sound of incredulous passengers being shoved brusquely aside roused him from the temporary stupor.

"Kriff! They're about to take off!"

The Silver Bodine sat on the landing pad's outer edge. The space between the ship and the crowds through which their pursuers waded was a tumbling nest of cables, wires and tubing snaking their way between the crafts.

"Gotra preserve me." he muttered glumly.

Phishing the blaster from its holster he took aim with the fluidity and precision only a mechanic could muster and ripped off a single shot at a nearby polynereltin fueling tube. A whoosh of burning atmosphere and then the tube was jerking and writhing it's way out of it's couplings, spraying a lashing fan of burning fuel into the path between the droids and the pursuers.

The 2-1B wasted no time watching his handiwork, instead making the ungainly trip up the Silver Bodine's boarding ladder and half-climbing, half-tumbling into the cockpit. Righting himself, he watched as the arch of fire continued to gnash at the air on the landing pad.

"Zeezee!" he trilled. "I suggest we move!"

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[Corran Velt]

Trini's alarm caused the Ranger Lieutenant to stand on his toes to glimpse the spacecraft shuttering to life. Looking back down to his furry companion, he saw she was typing up something on a datapad. Corran turned his head rapidly between Trini and the powering-up starship. They didn't have time for this. "Up you go!" He grunted as placed his hands under the armpits of the Amaran and attempt to place her on his shoulders like a toddler watching fireworks. She would be much less likely to get lost in the shuffle now and get a clear view of the Silver Bodine. For his part, the blond ranger was physically strong enough to handle someone of her size on his shoulders while keeping one hand on her leg to keep her stable.

Necessity to shoulder through the crowd became suddenly irrelevant. The tell-tale whine of a blaster bolt spooked the crowd and the sudden spark of roaring flame, even from a safer distance, sent them stampeding. Corran took a wide-stance and braced himself as running denizens slammed against his shoulders and thighs. Smoke trailing upward from the flames triggered the fire alarms. Artificial rain began to spray the spaceport. Secondary flames were doused but the main flame alight atop burning fuel would not be tamed so easily.

With civilians rapidly evacuating and out of the equation, that only left their target. Boots splashed in the forming puddles as the blond ranger dashed towards the landing pad. He had full intention to grab the hull and climb aboard. Until the flames licked up in anger against any who attempted to cross them. Corran shielded his face with one hand as fuel continued to be pumped into the pyre that dueled with the sprinklers. The starship was starting to lift off by the looks of it. With few options left that didn't include the risk of third degree burns, the Sector Ranger drew one of his blaster pistols and pointed it at the craft. Sky blue eyes focused down the iron sights as water dropped off a furrowed brow. "Do I take the shot?" Only the owner could decide if it was worth it.

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[Trini Halrixien]

ZZ-4A4 gave a squawk of alarm at the bloom of fire ignited by It0, but continued to hurry through the pre-flight check, the whine of the turbines increasing steadily. As the other droid clambered into the cockpit, Zeezee triggered the canopy, which slid closed with a whir and a click.

"Hold on, we're getting out of here!"

As the ship rose through an aperture in the ceiling and made its way out into the Coruscant sky, Zeezee silenced the comm system, cutting off an irate aerospace traffic controller demanding what in the seven hells the Silver Bolide thought it was doing. Keeping a photoreceptor on the scopes, he tracked the progress of several Coruscant Security Force ships; he was not really concerned about them, though. He had learned piloting from Master Krayd, and he was confident he could out-fly anything the authorities could send up after him.

By the time they got close, he intended to be in hyperspace.

With an electronic sigh, Zeezee swiveled his head turret toward the 2-1B medical droid occupying the pilot seat.

"I am sorry to involve you in this... I'm headed to Nar Shaddaa. If there is somewhere along the way I can drop you off, please, name it. What I have to do is not for the faint of circuit."

He cast his photoreceptor toward the blaster It0 carried.

"Although unless I miss my guess, there's more to you than meets the photoreceptor..."

Trini squeaked as Corran lifted her bodily onto his shoulders, clinging to him as he dashed through the scattering crowd toward the landing pad. At his question, her eyes widened at the blaster the Sector Ranger pointed toward her ship.

"N-No! There'd be no-"

Abruptly, the flames billowed, and Trini shielded her face from the concussion of the blast. When it subsided, she looked up to see the Silver Bolide rapidly ascending, its gleaming hull receding into the blue Coruscant sky.

Holding up the datapad, she looked at the tracking display, which now showed her ship's progress through the system. Zeezee was evidently heading for an area where he could make a safe hyperspace jump; by the time anyone could intercept him, he would already be gone.

"...no point." She finished. "All we can do now is follow him to wherever he thinks he's going... and hopefully keep him from getting hurt..."

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[It0]

"Well this is a fortuitous meeting Zeezee." the med-droid exclaimed. "Nar Shaddaa was the very destination I was bound for! I reside there you see. I find the moon particularly alluring, don't you? Frankly there's nowhere in the galaxy I'd rather spend my time, though the nature of my work often calls me to the Core Worlds."

His voice, modulated and filtered by his vocabulator, took an abruptly wistful tone.

"There's something there on Nar Shaddaa that compels me to return. An organic notion, I'm aware...and yet its true."

He stared out the starship's canopy and watched the Coruscant cityscape fall steeply away, its glittering features rapidly softening and fading behind an atmospheric haze. The relentless urge to return to the Smuggler's Moon meant the droid was never truly at peace when offworld. With every inch homeward the programmatic tension lessened.

"I am all too happy to help a fellow droid." he said, turning to regard Zeezee once more. "In truth, I am not so unique as you might imagine. I am a standard 2-1B Surgical Droid Unit, refitted with a heuristic processor. This modification has greatly expanded the latitude of my logic matrix, allowing me to define my directives at will and exercise a great degree of autonomy."

As he prattled on, he studied the little astromech a moment, taking in his anachronistic design. It0 tilted his cranial unit curiously.

"And you Zeezee?" he inquired. "What brought you to such a panicked flight from Coruscant? You indicated your task on Nar Shaddaa was a matter of some importance. I would be more than pleased to assist in any way I can. I have a wide array of contacts there."

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[Corran Velt]

Powerful gusts swept through the starport terminal as the ancient starship burst into the sky and out into the blue horizon. Corran crossed his arms over Trini's legs to prevent her from being off his shoulders and likely hit her head on the pavement. He braced into the blast, gritting his teeth until the pressure subsided. Silence descended upon the vacant facility. Only the spouting of water and crackling and hissing of flames made any sound at all. That is, until Trini provided the counter to his previous choice of action. "Blast it," the Sector Ranger mumbled to no one in particular. She was right anyway. A blaster pistol wouldn't have done anything unless it had hit a critical area. Chances for that were slim.

With the action over, Lieutenant Velt lowered to one knee and let the Amaran down off his shoulders. What a mess this all turned out to be. How could it have gone all wrong? They were just looking for parts. Now starship fuel scorched the floor and water damaged everything else. Civilians likely had to be routed to other flights or other spaceports entirely. And a little astromech had gotten away. A heavy sigh of guilt escaped from Corran's lips, "I'm sorry, Trini."

He pulled out a commlink and dialed into emergency services with noticeable fatigue. "Hello, yes, this is Lieutenant Corran Velt. I'm at Lina Soh Memorial Spaceport. Send fire control services right away - we have a fuel burn. What's that? Oh, my location-" The blond man walked off to handle the minutia of directing incoming support. All this trouble and possibly paperwork over droids. So much for a day off.

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[Trini Halrixien]

ZZ-4A4 considered his passenger, calculating the jump to hyperspace as he did. Idly, he considered just how much simpler such calculations had become since the Great Disaster.

"That is fortunate." The droid concurred. "I have not been to the Smuggler's Moon in some time... my last visit there was with my most recent Organic companion. It was just after the latest AMS outbreak. Things were... interesting."

The droid considered an integer, and then added it to the equation that would take the little craft to Nar Shaddaa.

"As for my mission... well, I suppose it's like this. Imagine if you will that you were an organic, intending to cook a meal, as they do. Imagine if you started the meal, realized you lacked a key ingredient, and went to the store to fetch it."

Zeezee turned back toward open space. Outside the canopy, the bright spots of approaching Coruscant Defense Force fighters began to become visible, before abruptly elongating as the Silver Bolide leaped forward into hyperspace. As the blue tunnel formed around them, the droid continued.

"Imagine if, while you were out, you abruptly realized you had left your unfinished meal on a lit heating element. For four hundred years."

The droid shook his cranial turret.

"Long ago, my Master and I made a grave mistake. We failed to deal with something that the Galaxy cannot afford to have loose. If we are all very lucky, I am not too late to do what must be done."

Abruptly, Zeezee's photoreceptor focused hard on It0.

"Wait... what do you mean, 'compelled?"

Trini's ears drooped as she climbed down from Corran's shoulders, still watching the receding ship. "It's not your fault." She replied seriously, and then glanced down at he datapad she still held, watching as it indicated a hyperspace jump. Wherever Zeezee went, she could find him.

She shook her head. That was good news, surely! Why, then, was she feeling a growing sense of dread as she watched her friend and her ship burn across the Core sectors?

"I have a bad feeling about this..."

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END THREAD.