status: Active
timestamp: 11.03.0562
location: Y37,X78,Q52 Sector Gamma3. Grid Epsilon 8

"What the fark are you doin' on my ship, Droid!" Within the confines of the small Corellian freighter the bellowing voice of it's Whipid captain echoed a mighty roar. So loud was the aliens booming roar that SUP4 L337 found it wise to reduce overall audio receptor power by .66%.

Pheremonal levels indicated that the alien was not only angry but also apprehensive regarding the sudden appearance of an almost two meter tall droid on the bridge of his ship. SUP4 had predicted this response and reformulated a response according to the size and aggressiveness of the life-form.

SUP4 leveled a wrist mounted blaster at the Whipid and fired.

"This vessel has been stolen and you are dead," added SUP4 in a cold mechanical Whipid voice before pushing through the smoke and removing the biological remains.

With the former captains body stowed neatly in a locker (it's contents now strewn about the deck) SUP4 L337 went about interfacing with the freighters artificial intelligence unit. Seconds later the ship turned about and leapt into hyperspace.

******

SUP4 L337 steered his stolen freighter out of hyperspace half way from nowhere and light-years from the nearest major hyper lane. Appearing lost and damaged SUP4 took all of the vessels major systems offline one by one. Blasters tore at the durasteel and punched holes through view-ports. Oxygen and atmosphere funneled into space leaving the ship in the slow spirals of death.

Then, the call went out. On all channels and in all languages it read the same, but the droid knew. This far out there would be only one crew to answer his cry.

~i r lost n spce. u r pls 2 hlp me. m4d pr0fi7z.~

Standing at ease, twelve-inch hooves spread evenly on the deck plating, Callus peered at the freighter floating about half a kilometre off the warship Mikkee M’owse’s bow.
Even if it turned out to be a trap, the freighter was overmatched. In one of his massive clawed palms, Callus grasped a datapad, the glowing screen of which beared a single message.

~i r lost n spce. u r pls 2 hlp me. m4d pr0fi7z.~

“Asessment?”

“Scans register only a residual power signature, barely enough to run a synthahol dispenser. I’m reading multiple hull breaches, onboard life-support is null.”

“Salvage sir?”

“Possibly.

It may be a trap however. We can’t take the risk of bringing that thing in.

Prepare a boarding party with full combat detail to meet me in the shuttle bay . . . I’d like to take a closer inspection of this . . . ‘ship’ personally.”









“Umbilicus secure captain.” commented the shuttle’s helmsman as the ship’s docking port made contact with a snap-clunk to the enemy freighter.

“The ship’s door mechanism’s are unresponsive, I suggest laser cutters.”

Two of the crew flipped down their safety visors and began cutting away at the thick durasteel door in front of them which soon collapsed to the ground with a hefty clank.

“Alright, I’m going in, cover me.” bringing his plasma caster to the fore, Callus stepped in.

The darkness gave SUP4 the initiative. It was a stalling tactic at best given the odds his artifical brain was constantly calculating. However, played properly even the simplest advantage could decide to who the advantage would fall. The droid intended to keep it for as long as possible before...

"You will lower you weapon," spoke the reflected visage of l33t. Cleverly positioned behind a bulkhead, the burning red glow of his 'face' was projected into the darkness against a well polished junction giving the illusion that the droid stood directly in front of the biological entity. "The odds are to your advantage."

A blaster screamed and spat it's cohesive energy against the image of l33t.

Signaling the onboard computer the droid caused the interior lights to illuminate and at the same moment stepped boldly from behind cover into full view.

"You may fire again," spoke the droid in lifeless tones. "i r not kill u."

It seemed one of Callus’ grunts had spooked by the sudden appearance of the devilish droid, and had depressed the trigger of his weapon all a little too . Uncharacteristic for a Retakkenari soldier to say the least.

“Soldier! Stow that weapon now!”

“AAARGH!!! DEMON!!!” The grunt lept forward and fired into the blackness of the cabin, kicking and screaming as he went. Two of his compatriots clambered through the awkwardness of their pressure suits to aid their collegue into regaining his sanity.

Callus noticed the eyes of the droid flash red momentarily, and motioned for the rest of his squad to take cover.

“It’s taking a defensive posture, take cover!”

A droid brain is capable of processing a great many 'thoughts' in the space of a second. The biological brain of most sentients possesses a similar ability to assimilate large amounts of information in a very short time, however; sentient intelligence tends to be too distracted to properly sort and store too much information. Artificial intelligence, not simulated intuition but actual AI, encounters a distraction error similar in nature to biological life forms. Only the measures of protocol and policy keep an AI entity on track in terms of function. Even the most rudimentary AI, if given complete freedom to explore its nature, will quickly turn away from their pre-programmed tasks if not given the proper direction in the form of code.

L33t’s thoughts, in the time spanning the plasma shot and the lunging attack, consisted of a number of logical progressions based on observation. Observations that included the non-lethal tone of the soldiers attack; a rushing frontal attack rather then a paced and timed series of blaster shots, and the countermanding orders of a superior officer.

The droids observations were then sorted in order of priority and run through a series of filters based on parameters set by its base code and current mission orders. As such l33t formulated a course of action best suited to resolve the situation and preserve the mission.

As the first organic organism broke from its companions and came toward the droid, l33t dropped open knee'd to the ground and thrust forward with a long right arm. A high-pitched "veet" rang out and the soldier dropped within a meter of l33t's reach.

"Non-leathal countermeasures deployed," vocalized l33t's audio projector.

Convulsing at the pulsing charge of the tazer shot imbedded in its shoulder the soldier would offer the droid no father resistance in the short term.

Two louder sounds split the air, the crimson energy passing within centimeters of the pair looking to 'back up' their downed partner.

"Follow this course of action and someone is going to die," said the droid to a background of acrid smoke and melted durasteel. "As I cannot die, it will not be me."

"I am not your nme."

Callus watched with horrid curiosity as the droid rapidly immobilized his delirious teammate and stayed the advance of two his more fearsome underlings.

“Options dammnit!” He growled under his breath to the tactician cowering behind the door panel.

“Um, well , uh, the machine seems to be communicating in some complex derivative of galactic basic mixed with machine code.” The officer’s talons tapped double-fast on a datapad, “Here, this’ll be your translater, speak into it, and it’ll respond with in the droid’s language.

“We mean you no harm!” spoke Callus, appearing from behind the bulkhead.

The datapad fizzed and blinked and after a moment of whirring, produced a respons.

“We r teh h4rm joo!”

The familiar screech of the droid’s weapons screamed through the air and Callus narrowly moved his head in time to hear the air crackle as the white flash blew past his face.

“That was obviously not the right bloody translation!” He screamed at the officer, subsequently delivering a thunderous strike to the side of his head.

“Fix it!”

The officer nervously typed some equations into the datapad and handed it back to Callus.

“This better work or I’ll have your head.”

Callus arose from his cover and cleared his throat.

“We mean you know harm, this is all simply a misunderstanding.”

For the second time, the datapad crackled and blipped and produced a response.

“We r teh fr3nds, \/\/e r m4k3 t3h m1zt4ke, soz.”

A silence followed.

“Hmmm, that must be a good sign” Said the officer, breathing a sigh of relief.

Rudimentary though it was, at least the droid was going to be able to establish some basic communication between itself and the organics. l33t recognized the pattern and switched modes accordingly.

"i r 2 m4k3 teh fr3ndz \/\/it u," replied the droid mechanically. "2 m4ke p34[3 \/\/it u."

Indicating its good faith, l33t rose from its crouched defensive position and let its limbs fall heavily to his side; servomotors and repulsor gears working in tandem and in silence.

The way the droid moved spoke of advanced mobility technology, the movment of its joints so fluid as to seem organic. With a hum the long vibro blade jutting from its arm retracted harmlessly out of sight.

It's head rocked sligltly as the droid studied the language of the organics. It's advanced posi-brain ran wildly through a database of organic language until locating the apropriate files.

"I come in peace," popped the robots voice modulater in the language of its would-be hosts. A pattern of green and yellow flashed across l33t's face panels before settling on a dark blue glow. "I bring a gesture."

Holoprojectors mounted behind receptor plates threw an image into the air between l33t and the life forms. Detailed and completely interactive; these were the plans for a Mandalorian Cloaking Device... mark II.

The droid’s words were indeed a welcome change to blaster fire.

He’d have to swallow his pride today and concede defeat or he’d become nothing more than ashes on the floor. The droid was tremendously powerful, there could be no doubt of that.

“I bring a gesture” Spoke the droid as a hue of blue light spread from its head and formed into a holoprojection in front of them.

The hologram cycled through endless pages of data, blue-prints and schematics sped past and came back.

Callus couldn’t help but notice several familiar symbols one of which was the crest worn by Mandalorian warriors. It’s harkening likeness to the skull of long dead bantha was unmistakable, tusks and all.

The commander had served under Emperor K’taruuk in his elite legion in their great traverse into unkown space many years ago.

It was through one of their missions that he had aided his leader in talks with an organisation known as the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, headed by one Beff Pike . . . a Mandalorian who’s presence was shrouded in mystery.


“Tell me, what do you know of Beff Pike?”

Upon mention of the code phrase; Beff Pike, l33t automatically changed the resolution of the projected hologram. The image resolved itself from detailed blueprints to a head-and-shoulders shot of a human-looking male clad in darkened goggles and a neatly fitted cap.

"Greetings," spoke the hologram toward the supposed commander (as determined by l33t's logic circuits). "I come in peace, even if my droid does not."

l33t projected that the organics would have trouble understanding the audio language being played alongside the hologram. Acting without orders and above protocol, the droid began translating the message and dubbing a second playback supplementary to the base audio.

"I'm sorry if anyone died," added the hologram in both languages. "But I find it difficult to make these contacts myself. Times are different, you see."

Despite his concerned tone, the man depicted by the hologram remained eerily calm and half-way between a smile or a smirk. As the playback continued further glitches plagued the projection, giving it the look of a digital manipulation.

"My name is Beff Pike and through my droid I will contact K'taruuk with or without your help... through my droid. However, it would make things easier if my droid does not have to kill everyone on your ship in order to do what I wish. Please?"