Ask Plot That Spice Ain't Yours

[It0]

[ T H E M E ]
​

KESSEL
Quadrant 12
23:11

It0 half stumbled his way to a prone position atop the rocky outcropping. Fumbling the electrobinoculars from his bag, he examined the facility in the canyon below. The terrain beyond the viewfinders’ lens was mottled and grainy, yet he could make out the skeletal maze of catwalks that lined the canyon walls down towards the depot; itself little more than a few squat buildings and a hangar bay dug into the rockface.

He checked the power-pack on his DH-17 to find it comfortably full. Such rituals remained alien to the medical droid, who even with the addition of his combat bypass circuitry, found the notion of ending sentient life odd and strangely taboo. Nevertheless, his directives were clear. The depot below acted as an intermediary waypoint for the illicit stream of spice being mined here on Kessel. Here, the narcotic was stored, packaged and prepped for transport off-world. From there the starlanes would ensure the narcotic reached every far reach of the galaxy, and send the proceeds rocketing back to the coffers of the Pyke Syndicate.

His databanks identified the Pykes as capable but isolated adversaries. The other syndicates had aligned against them, and the outcome was all but inevitable. The Crymorah would have to lay claim to their share of the bounty or let that much more influence in the system slip beyond their grasp. The tide of power was shifting and Kessel was the fulcrum. Such a fact was apparent even to a droid.

He swept his gaze over the depot once more. Only five visible organics. All armed. There were almost certainly more inside. Scouring his databanks for any trace of an operational strategy protocol, he came up alarmingly empty. He slipped the binoculars back into his satchel and scooted back from the canyon’s precipice, ensuring he was wholly out of view. Thankfully, he was not alone in his task.

As radical an alteration as he had undergone in recent weeks, It0 was at his core a slave to his programming. Without a combat module to pull from and no personal data metrics to base decision-making upon, he was virtually clueless on how to proceed. That’s where organics proved particularly useful. Especially organics accompanied by large, lethal droids with an innate hatred for sentient life…

@Zentripoli
@Cestus

 

[Zentripoli]

Before loading it on small freighters, most of the spice is stored in depots and put under guard. Now, if you want control of Kessel that means you want its natural resources. Unfortunately for some scoundrels that means they're assaulting a guarded depot in order to claim it for the 4S.

Zentripoli was crouched within his combat walker platform once again. While the Columi had field-tested the ZDT-415, he had truly put it through the ringer in the last few months. After every engagement, improvements were made and modifications to the vehicle were inevitable. At this point, in the small Columi’s mind, the improvements on the vehicle were reaching diminishing returns and the platform was now simply a reliable piece of technology…after all, Zentripoli built it.

Making repairs, modifications and design changes to his droids had become incrementally easier after opening up Zeno Droid Technologies on Hollastin. The factory was humming and producing droids of all classes, putting them on the market with some amount of success. Marketing was always tricky in Hutt Space, but he was making it work. Word of mouth and recommendations were always king, so he made sure that his customers were taken care of, but the products spoke for themselves--quality was king. But for now, there was nefarious business to handle for the Five Syndicates...of course, if the Pyke Syndicate was taken out of the equation, would the criminal organization have to undergo new branding? Such were the thoughts of the Columi.

True to form, Zentripoli were with his two droid companions, It0 and Cestus. At this point, the Columi trusted these two droids as his friends. While he knew their opinions on organics, the Columi cared little. If they decided to conquer the world and replace every living sentient with a droid, he hoped he would be the last organic standing. But then again, he might be the biggest threat…such was life and black holes that the mind went to.

Scanning with the ZDT-415’s electroreceptors, he looked over at It0 and Cestus. The internal comlink activated and he observed, “A frontal assault yields a high probability of failure. While I only see five sentries, I imagine the Lieutenant overseeing this operation is inside. Fortunately for us, they are only armed with blaster pistols from what I can tell. We should be able to follow that quarry over to the other side of the staging area without being noticed. Shall we?”

@Tic @Swagger
DICE THREAD

 

[Cestus]

Cestus stared at the desolate, ruined landscape before him without emotion. Well, truth be told, it wasn't emotionless rather it was cool and reflective. He contemplated the way organics seemed to complain incessantly about their circumstances, about the way their environment was irreparably destroyed by industry but then they built more factories anyway. He wondered if this world had once been a lush place full of cloying, shivering life. Wet with rain and blood spilled onto the soil in equal measure, only to be reduced to a crumbling, lifeless rock face covered in the insectoid frames and walkways that seemed to cling to the quarry as though seeking nutrients where there would be none.


That this stone tomb was the source of a narcotic that no doubt ruined countless lives was a cruel joke played by the innumerable deities the organics seemed to follow. Deities...now that was a topic for contemplation another time he rumbled. He straightened his posture and turned to face Zentripoli.


His quadruplicate photoreceptors glowed a brighter shade of blood orange and he nodded. His massive manipulators dusting off the remnants of a rock he'd been crushing subconsciously. Moving like a sculptors rendition of a curious hybrid of humanoid, ape and insect, he pulled himself up using a durasteel rail that had likely once led to another platform in the facility but was now abandoned and forgotten. The jerking ascension made him look positively geriatric.


"We shall."


He flexed his mismatched limbs, "While I have no doubt that I could, I would rather avoid slaughtering. It would only slow us down."


@Tic
@Mithias

 

[It0]

Glancing between his newly arrived compatriots, It0 couldn’t help but take note of the stark differences between the two. Differences that went far beyond the makeup of their respective anatomies. One was cerebral, expressive and inherently receptive to those around him. The other quiet, withdrawn and reflective. Rare qualities in a droid. And of course, both exercised lethality with their own unique methodologies.

“Compliance.” he responded and fell in line behind Cestus. The quarry was all but abandoned, a great planetary scar speckled with half-covered machinery. As they made their way around its outer edge and It0 examined the dented chassis of the droid marching before him, his analytics turned towards Cestus’ adoptive philosophy. The brazenly pro-droid agenda, even at the cost of organic life, had always struck him as contradictory to the point of absurdity. He was at his core a medical droid after all, and preservation of life was central to his personality matrices. Nevertheless, many races and factions worked for their own preservation or advancement. Shouldn’t droids, as conscious beings, be entitled to do the same?

Such abstractions required more processing power than he was willing to afford them at present and he quickly turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Below them, down a narrow outcropping in the cliff face, the staging area was deserted, shielded from the view of the sentries by a sharp turn in the ravine. It0 placed a cautionary manipulator on Cestus’ shoulder and gestured towards the constricting pathway leading downward.

“Perhaps I should proceed first, Cestus.” he suggested. “Ensure it’s steady enough to hold your weight.”

Hearing no argument to the alternative, the 2-1B crept carefully down the path, clinging towards the rockwall as near as he was able. It0 was a little more than two-thirds the way towards the canyon floor when there was a sharp crack and the path began to fall away all around him. A moment later he was at the ravine’s base, unharmed but covered in debris. Standing, he peered back up the cliff face towards his comrades. The path down was no more and there was little alternative for them but to find an alternate way.


@Cestus
@Zentripoli

 

[Zentripoli]

Whenever Zentripoli did a “job” for his family, the small alien often ran dozens of modeling simulations in order to predict possible outcomes. Sometimes, jobs like this showed a high-risk probability. When the trio began their approach to interrupt the cargo delivery, the Columi thought that his simulations of this scenario were skewed. But with the path destroyed, It0, and rock crumbling down the side, his high-risk model simulations came right back to the forefront.

Typical that we cannot catch a break…

While It0 was not visible, Zentripoli and Cestus were somewhat exposed during this crossing. The falling rocks were enough to draw the stare of one of the guards, but he did not investigate further. However, he did periodically stare back in the direction of where It0 had slid down. Over his internal comlink, Zentripoli replied to It0, “I can use my jumpboots when the hostilities begin. I am afraid there is not going to be another way to take this cargo from these sentries. Unfortunately, this platform’s balance is not ideal. It is probably best I stay here and join when you or Cestus let me know. It0, perhaps you can get in position and Cestus can slide down as well. If Cestus is noticed, we will begin hostilities. If they do not notice Cestus and his transit down to the ravine, the two of you can continue to get closer. It0, Cestus…your assessment of this idea?”

Looking down, the Columi was already analyzing possible flight paths for visibility, or specifically, flight paths that had the least visibility to those by the cargo due to obstructions on the ground taller than the hostiles. He thought he found a couple that would work.

Quickly running a modeling simulation in his head, Zentripoli frowned—the success rate went up…by 0.56%.

@Swagger
@Tic
DICE THREAD

 

[Cestus]

The catwalk that had borne It0 to the ravine had left a fingerprint behind. A short, four foot long segment of platform and the coleopteran remains of a railing organics all too often clung to was still, albeit loosely, attached to the rock in front of Cestus and Zentripoli. The bulky droid listened to the wisdom of his diminutive friend and pondered. Were he some kind of assault droid he would probably have just jumped down, shot everyone and then mock-smoked a cigara. But he was nowhere near as graceful as that would require. He pondered some more before Zen finished.

He bent at the waist and took hold of the platform remaining and pulled it free, bending the rails in to create a crude "steering handle" before lifting the whole arrangement into the air and repositioning it so that it partially overhung the precipice. Then, with could have been an imaginary attempt at a wink he stepped onto it and with one leg pushing sent himself and his odd sledge into oblivion.

The descent was far from smooth. In Cestus's CPU he probably thought it would have gone better, there was probably some part of the circuits that dictated and learned from his experiences that thought he looked like some Tattooinian Dune rider but the truth was as far from that as he was as far from the Core worlds. He lost his balance, regained it then lost it again before the metal platform disintegrated into pieces and he was left momentarily in mid air before landing with an almighty crash on the ravine floor. The plume of micro dust that followed him was like a lightless signal flare visible from pretty much every angle, as if his crash hadn't been obvious enough to their would be assailants.

As the dust settled and his battered and bent carapace shook as he tried to revive impact deadened servos into action the sounds of blasters filled the air.

@Tic
@Mithias