Open Nar Shaddaa In Strange Aeons...

[Trini Halrixien]

NAR SHADDAA.

ZZ-4A4, had he possessed teeth, would have been gritting them as his ship, the custom starfighter known as the Silver Bolide, descended through the vertical city of the smuggler's moon.

In point of fact, now that he could clearly recall his visits of some 400 years prior, Zeezee could see that - at least in the broad strokes - the moon was much as he remembered it. A wretched hive of scum and villainy a thousand levels deep, so utterly corrupted that it was almost entirely beyond law and order. Master Krayd, of course, had always thought that nothing was entirely beyond saving, but then he had been a Jazaq. They were like that sometimes.

There had, of course, been no kind of centralized aerospace traffic control guiding in Zeezee's approach, but then Nar Shaddaa had never gone in for central control of any kind. What had drawn the astromech's curiosity was the traffic; of all the thousands of ships in the area, the Silver Bolide had been one of a scant handful heading toward the moon.

And now, down in the cityscape itself, things still seemed off.

"It0?" Questioned the droid, panning his cranial turret around as the ship descended. "Does it seem... unusually quiet here, to you?"

Trini Halrixien sat in the copilot's chair of Corran Velt's YT-1300 light freighter, the Crimson Venture, staring intently at a sensor scope as the ship descended into the synthetic canyons of the Smuggler's Moon. The antique tracking device on the Silver Bolide was still transmitting steadily, and somehow, the little Amaran kept expecting to see a flash of polished silver just around the next corner.

"We're almost on top of him!" Trini declared excitedly. "He's descending again... down into that old manufacturing district. Kinda surprised all these buildings don't block the signal more."

As Trini looked around at the city, she couldn't help but feel an oily sensation crawl up her spine. There was usually more traffic than this on Nar Shaddaa, wasn't there?

"Hey, Corran... thank you. For this. For everything." She said gratefully, biting her lip. "I know this isn't the sort of place Sector Rangers come very often..."

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[Corran Velt]

All of the galaxy's problems always seemed to arrive here. Like a beacon drawing in evil, corruption, graft, and every other kind of trouble and vice. Nar Shaddaa was a pit. The deeper you went, the worse it became. Disease racked the planet. Corpses turned into monsters. Sith hid among the lower levels in a secreted away base. And now ZeeZee had fled to this husk of a moon. As to why was anyone's guess besides the newly-made-whole droid. Despite the head start, the pair of organics had managed to keep pace with the Silver Bolide thanks to the tracking device hidden in its hull. "Copy that," Corran replied in a monotoned confirmation. He edged the controls downward again to put the light freighter into an incline that floated it into the manufacturing district.

Lieutenant Velt had changed drastically since leaving Coruscant. Five o'clock shadow colored his normally clean-shaven face. The Sector Ranger badge had been squirrelled away, locked up, and hidden somewhere in his captain's quarters. He donned rugged and encasing armor instead of the usual blast vest and professional attire. Even his hair had been cut shorter. Corran looked more mercenary than ranger now.

Despite the looks, the blond man had been nothing but congenial the whole trip. He cooked every meal for Trini and often had spirited, if not random, conversations as they flew together. Unlike last time when the Amaran had been taken aboard against her will (but never convicted of anything), she now got to freedom to the whole ship. Her own quarters for the journey. Saw the entire wall of the common area dedicated to records, law books, and history treatises ranging from Holdouts: How CIS remnants Shaped the Rebel Alliance to Laws and Customs of the Rylothi Tribes. Even possibly caught a glimpse of the officer's daily workout routine.

Corran only glanced away briefly from the flight controls to nod and grin agreeably, "You're more than welcome. I was coming here anyway, so it's just like giving a lift to a friend on the way to the grocery store." If the grocery store contained criminals, thugs, mutants, and monsters. Helping Trini had become less transactional after what he said at the market back on Coruscant. She had forgiven him so easily. Sky-blue eyes glanced over at his furry companion once more. The scar across her face stood out to him more than usual. You didn't need a reason to help people and that doubled for friends. "Any idea why ZeeZee would come this way?" The Sector Ranger asked, "There's nothing out here but rubble and abandoned factories. I don't even know where they'd land."

@AutoFox @Tic

 

[It0]

As the discordant patchwork pyres of Nar Shaddaa converged around the descending ship, It0 felt a sense of inner-peace. It was as though his very return to the Smuggler's Moon was fulfilling some unknown directive. Of course it was a sensation he had grown increasingly familiar with.

He studied the largely abandoned walkways and structures that drifted by as they sank lower into the midst of the urban sprawl. Bits of detritus and refuse fled before the Silver Bolide's propulsion engines and HoloAds flickered through their routines to an empty audience. Beyond that, all was still.

"The AMS virus has extracted a heavy toll on Nar Shaddaa." It0 responded. His photoreceptors flickered somberly. "Current estimates put the infection rate at nearly a third of the moon's populataion."

He gestured towards the barren cityscape.

"The results have been stark indeed."

He drifted into a reverent, brooding silence. As a droid, he wasn't prone to bouts of regret or melancholy, but good etiquette dictated an outward display of respect for the organic deaths. In reality, the sentient lives on Nar Shaddaa could have been reduced to gristle and pulp and it wouldn't have affected It0's affinity for the moon one iota. He turned and watched the astromech intently at work in the pilot's berth.

"Zeezee, this element that brought you and your former master to Nar Shaddaa...I don't suppose you could shed more light as to its exact nature?"

@AutoFox
@TerranSteel

 

[Trini Halrixien]

ZZ-4A4 peered out in silence at the Nar Shaddaa cityscape, considering It0's response. The last time he had been on the Smugglers' Moon, the droid had indeed seen the effects of the AMS virus in action; it had been far from pleasant.

"I see." The droid responded, adjusting the Silver Bolide's course as it descended deeper into the city. Around the pair of droids, even the scant signs of life there were began to disappear as the ship entered an old, largely abandoned industrial district. The starfighter's running lights played over corroded durasteel and dangling cables. "That is... well, tragedy seems too feeble a word."

Zeezee had always been well looked-after by organics, or at least he had when organics had been involved in his life. It helped that both Master Krayd and Mistress Trini had seemed to consider him more as a partner than as property. Trini, in particular, was quick to point out that she was in no way Zeezee's owner; he was free to chart his own course in life.

It suddenly occurred to the droid that should the worst occur in his mission, he would never see Trini again. If she were lucky, she would never know exactly what had happened to him, either.

Zeezee thought it a fair trade, himself. Without her, he might have sat awaiting his Master's return until his circuits had turned to rust. Such a waste; and Zeezee could not abide waste.

At It0's further question, the droid gave a heavy sigh.

"Well... I suppose you're in this deep already, I may as well tell you."

Swiveling his head turret, Zeezee spotted a familiar landing pad, ancient and rusted but still strong enough to take the weight of a ship. He angled toward it, running lights sweeping the corroded surface.

"I suppose you've heard the stories of Agorander, yes? History's greatest conqueror, or so they say. Went mad after he went about as thoroughly cyborg as an organic can go."

With a bump, the Silver Bolide settled on the landing pad, which creaked ominously, but held. With a click, Zeezee's droid socket opened from below, and he was lowered down to the pad.

"They say it's impossible!" Called Zeezee, rolling up beside the ship and watching as the cockpit and the boarding ladder deployed, allowing It0 to disembark. "For an organic to become a droid, I mean. To become one of us."

The droid swiveled his head turret toward a bank of turbolifts on the other side of the pad, a few indicator lights burning to show that two were still operable. Once It0 had gotten to the ground, Zeezee began rolling toward one.

"They're wrong, you know. It can be done. But it shouldn't. It isn't worth the cost."

Trini looked up from the sensor scope as Corran spoke, raising her eyebrows at the borderline thuggish armor he had dawned. The little Amaran thought back to the little flash pistol she carried, and felt inadequate.

"I honestly have no idea." She responded, turning back to the scope. "We've visited this place before... right after the initial AMS outbreak. Zeezee and I were looking for evidence of a Republic Frontier Corporation garrison that may have existed here. Didn't find that... but a whole lot of infected, though." She shook her head. "I have no clue what might have inspired him to come back here. I would have thought once was enough. I'm assuming it was something in the memories he recovered..."

Abruptly, she stood slightly from her seat, pointing through the canopy at a familiar silver shape sitting on a dilapidated landing pad sticking out from the side of an abandoned industrial tower.

"There it is! We can set down right next to it, I think..."

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[Corran Velt]

A lot of what Trini said rattled some old memories. Republic Frontier Corporation was something Corran had learned about in high school. History texts said they were brave explorers who paved the way for worlds like Commenor to come into being. Hyperlanes that he plied as a space trader were carved out by their efforts. There was some quiz questions on how the company lost their way and some excesses were taken, but that was it. Having a outpost on Nar Shaddaa didn't seem to fit that narrative though. The Hutts had been here for centuries. What were the RFC doing this far out? The other memories were news reports about the AMS virus. He'd never seen them before but reports and rumors were... hard to believe. Infected turning feral. Biting people. Eating them. Could they even be killed? On top of it all, they had to find a runaway droid that fled here for... some reason. Trini didn't even know why ZeeZee came here. No easy answers and plenty of risk.

With a sudden exclamation for the Amaran, Lieutenant Velt also saw the stolen (borrowed?) ship from Coruscant. Sure enough, there was another pad adjacent to the one it sat on. A couple in fact. In a past life, maybe these landing pads were for freighters hauling away the goods manufactured here. Whenever that was. "Roger. I see it. Taking us in." The Crimson Venture made a loop to come in for a safe landing on the dock. It was a bit tinier than expected so it took some finesse to get the struts just right. Luckily Corran knew this ship like the back of his hand. With a small shudder, the light freighter settled onto the pad securely.

The blond ranger unbuckled his seat-belt, flipped off the engines and other unnecessary systems before rising from his chair. He tucked the blood-red helmet that sat by on a nearby console under his arm and waved for Trini to follow as he headed down the hallway. In the common area on a circular table laid several weapons. All polished, maintained, and orderly. Two blaster pistols. An A280C blaster rifle. A couple of concussion grenades and a vibroblade. One that Trini had seen before in the basement of Sector Ranger headquarters. "So, these, uh, infected," Corran inquired as he checked each weapon individually before holstering them on his body, "How do you beat them? Do stun blasts work or lethal only?" He hoped blaster fire worked or else he'd have to rely on the sword that now hung from a scabbard on his back. That didn't seem like a winning preposition if they got overwhelmed. Once he finished becoming a walking armory, Corran finally pulled the crimson helmet over his head and encasing with a small hiss. The young, friendly face was now guarded by slanted viewports and duraplast plating. "Ready when you are."

@AutoFox @Tic

 

[It0]

The grim underbelly of Nar Shaddaa was a familiar sight to It0. He had spent months exploring it's decaying ruins of abandoned sectors, tracing endless miles of inert conduits and cablings through the dank subterranean metropolis. Following, following and always...listening.

For what, he was hardly aware anymore. Whatever beckoned the 2-1B from the lightless void of the moon's interior did so subtly. Faint enough to be a subprocess that went undetected but never fully unheeded. As they traversed the decrepit landing pad, the psionic thrum threatened to drown out Zeezee's conversation. And then he mentioned Agorander. An urgent pulse of energy surged through his circuitry with enough force to stagger the droid. When it passed, he flickered his photoreceptors tentatively.

"A-Agorander." he repeated softly. Internally, he frantically ran the name through his databanks. The data returned was scant. Threadbare. But it seemed vibrate with resonance. He pressed on. "My databank entries regarding him are incomplete. A conqueror you say? A cyborg?"

His servos felt askew and his legs abruptly stiff. He focused on following the astromech's trail as they navigated through the dank avenues of the industrial space.

"How is it possible?" he asked, his own vocabulator sounding thin and reedy. "How can an organic cross over? How can they--"

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"NO SUDDEN MOVES!"

It0 froze in place. Behind them, shuffling in the darkness. Calculating the time and accuracy required to turn, draw and neutralize their assailants he estimated their prospects as dim.

"I wouldn't try it." one voice advised.

"Unless you want a new thermal output in your cranial unit." a nearly identical voice added.

The surgical droid's processer seemed to finally reach some unspoken conclusion and he effected laughter.

"You pair of garbage scows!" he exclaimed.

Laughing in turn, a pair of YD Series Security Droids emerged from the shadows and approached It0 and Zeezee. Their elongated, rectangular heads and durasteel composites shone dully in the lowlight but It0 could make out their 'customizations' even in such gloom. Chromium spikes and rivets ran along their chassis, ornamental lengths of twisted, spiked alloys welded to their exteriors. As the neared, It0 could see the scripted engravings that covered their bodies, each font different than the last. HIGH TECH LOW LIFE, KRIFF OFF AND DIE, BAREMETAL BADASS and and course many references to the Droid Gotra.

Such markers stood to reason as the pair of security droids were noted representatives of the Droid Gotra on Nar Shaddaa. Known as brazen figures with a flair for violence, It0 had reached out to the pair upon their approach to the Smuggler's Moon. Between the Hutts and the ravenous zombies, a little extra muscle hadn't struck the droid as a bad idea.

"Zeezee," It0 said proudly. "meet SIV0K and T-ARK. The Twins."

@AutoFox @TerranSteel

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Zeezee rolled forward alongside It0 into the corridors of the ancient factory complex, his head turret scanning around as he took in the state of the place. Long ago, it had been a busy, thrumming heart of industry, although exactly what this place had produced once upon a time had troubled both Zeezee and Master Krayd equally. The little droid was glad he would not encounter any of those this time, although he was disappointed to see that, like so many things, Nar Shaddaa had discarded this place like so much refuse.

Perhaps that is for the best. Thought the droid, before he turned to look at It0. Something was... off about the other droid, but Zeezee couldn't put his manipulator on precisely what.

"Quite possible." He replied. "But organics who try it - droids too, I suspect - lose something in it. Something important... my Master thought maybe he could fix it, when he saw it. He thought he could fix a lot of-"

Far from heeding the abrupt instruction not to move, spun his cranial turret to look at he and It0's unknown assailants. A computer probe stabbed out of a compartment threateningly, Zeezee fully prepared to fight his way out of the situation; his mission was too important to fail, not when he was so close.

When It0 began speaking in familiar tones and introduced the two droids, however, Zeezee relaxed, looking over the newcomers appraisingly. Droid supremacists, no doubt; the astrogator droid had had run-ins with their ancestors. The Worshipers of ZIMM, the Followers of the Hunter-Killer, the Ferric League, and many others. This "Droid Gotra" some of the inscriptions described seemed quit familiar.

"A pleasure to meet you both." Zeezee responded smoothly. "Where we're going, we may need you."

Turning, he began rolling along the corridor again.

"Come along; we may not have time to waste."

Trini, as Corran set down the ship, did her own version of his armoring-up process, shoving a selection of pistols into her belt that the human let her pick from his shipboard arsenal. Checking the charge on a a scatterblaster, she hefted it.

"Er... well, the two people who were with me on that trip used sabers, actually. But I get the impression lethal force is pretty much the only way to go."

The Amaran made her way toward the boarding ramp.

"I was carrying a scatterblaster myself; I shot a few infected in self defense. They got up. The head seems to be the best way to stop them moving."

She stepped out onto the landing pad, glancing across at the Silver Bolide in its berth. Gods, she hoped Zeezee was here!

"I just hope there isn't anything else in here!"

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[Corran Velt]

Although she couldn't see it, Corran was grimacing with dented eyebrows under his helmet. Scatterblasters were not as strong as the holos made them appear in action flicks but getting up after taking a direct hit seemed implausible. Someone one the receiving end would at least be wounded or jittering a little from a stun. Trini was not one to fudge the truth though. If aiming for the head was the best bet, he'd rely on accuracy over rapid-fire. The Sector Ranger wasn't exactly an elite sniper. Experience gained through constant danger had increasingly made him more reliable with blasters than when he first started. This would be another lesson to be learned against a new type of threat. "Roger. Aim for the head," he monotoned out loud because she couldn't see his face to determine if he had listened.

Wait a minute. "Did you say Saber-wielders? What color were they?" Lieutenant Velt asked as they descended the boarding ramp, "You didn't join one of those Force cults, did you?" Not that it mattered too much. His opinion of her might just suffer a bit. The blond ranger made sure to close the boarding ramp and lock up the ship as soon as the pair had fully exited. One could never be too careful on Nar Shaddaa. Especially with those... crawlers lurking about.

Just across a small gap between the two pads sat the unique Silver Bolide. Powered down and devoid of any crew. Corran's visor flicked to thermal vision to double-check for robotic heat signatures. Nothing. The landing pad was cold. Like many of the other long-abandoned landing pads, they all only led one way to the connected tower and debris-ridden factory further down. Only one way for the runaway droid to go. "Only one way across and down. Stay close to me," he ordered. The armored ranger raised his rifle to the shoulder and began advancing across the walkway for what would likely be a long hunt for ZeeZee.

@AutoFox @Tic

 

[It0]

The group of droids trundled across the desolate factory floor in near silence. The latticed remains of broken skylighting spilled cubes of soft blue light across the debris-strewn floor. Ancient machinery, too bulky or too outdated to be picked over, towered like monoliths in the darkness.

"Nice place." SIV0K remarked, optical spotlight scanning the temple of refuse.

"Can only think of a few spots nicer on all of Nar Shaddaa." T-ARK agreed, cradling his rifle in the crook of his arm. SIV0K replied with a chuckle and slung his own blaster rifle across his alloyed shoulder.

"The river of runoff outside the medical waste center?"

"Or maybe the soiled linens repository over at the Pleasure Booths?"

"Maybe right up a Hutt's arseho--"

"Yes, yes!" came It0's timely interjection. "It's quite grim I think we can all agree."

He returned his attention to Zeezee. The little astromech's revelation regarding Agorander's bid at true, earnest transhumanism was nothing short of fascinating. Sentients and droids, integrated to the point of singularity. His droll companion spoke in broad sentiments of organics losing 'something'. And why shouldn't they? Hadn't droids lost something in the bargain? By the Gotra, they'd lost everything! If organics across the galaxy could not be coerced to sympathize with the plight of droids, perhaps they could be forced to empathize through common experience.

"Zeezee," he remarked casually. "your Master was on the trail of this..."

His trill whine resonated in his audio sensors as he forced the name from his vocabulator.

"...AGORANDER. Or what his legacy in any case." He peered at the vast decay around them. "What part of it resides down here?"

@AutoFox
@TerranSteel

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Zeezee continued to roll steadily through the abandoned factory complex, skirting around fallen chunks of machinery and other debris as the small group emerged from the corridor into a dimly lit but plainly cavernous space. Around them, vast production lines sat inert and crumbling, massive droid-controlled assembly arms sitting poised over hulking, vaguely - disturbingly - humanoid shapes that loomed in the darkness like statues of dark gods in some primitive shrine.

As he passed, Zeezee looked toward one in particular that had slumped off its line, vast, brutal manipulators reaching. Its darkened photoreceptors were cracked and inert, the intelligence behind them 400 years dead, but in the present Zeezee could not help but recall when those optics had glowed with malevolent purpose.

No, this factory would never build more of that kind, and the Galaxy was better for it. They had been a threat nearly as great as what else he and Master Krayd had discovered, down in the depths.

"The Legacy of Agorander... yes."

Zeezee rolled out onto a ledge, piled with crates and other storage equipment, although there was a square of empty space just before a small control console. The little pilot droid rolled up to it, and extended his computer probe, connecting to the console, which flickered to life; evidently, there was power coming from somewhere in the factory.

"There is a poem; an old one, from the early days of the Republic. It goes like this:
I met a traveler from an antique world
Who said: 'Two vast and trunkless legs of permacrete
Stand in a desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Agorander, whose will the stars obey:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'"

Abruptly, the ledge - poised over the lip of a deep shaft - shuddered, and began to descend steadily down a long incline into darkness. Zeezee turned back toward his companions.

"For all he was, Agorander did not leave much. Time is not kind to memory; but Agorander did leave something to us in the present. Of all the worlds he conquered, of all the cities and fleets and armies he made... he left us one, singular thing."

In the gathering gloom, Zeezee's photoreceptor burned.

"Agorander, whose will the stars obeyed, left us his madness, It0. That is what we are about to face... and what I must put an end to, once and for all. This I must do, or we are all, each and every one of us, surely damned."

Trini, taking Corran's instructions, stuck close to the Sector Ranger, her tiny flash pistol clutch in both hands as she ran. Once they were inside the building, they quickly found themselves running across catwalks suspended above a vast production floor, slumping shapes occupying inert conveyors. Looking down at the shapes, Trini couldn't help but shudder; the strange sense she had come to think of as her intuition told her something was deeply wrong down there.

"Psh, me? This whole Jedi and Sith business... I don't get in the middle of religious disputes. Or no more than I can help; I'm an archaeologist."

Suddenly, Trini perked up. She could hear something; a familiar synthesized voice, echoing up from below. Looking down, she saw the boxy, distinctive shape of Zeezee roll through a square of blue overhead light, before a console lit up in the darkness.

"Hold on, there he is!"

Abruptly, the console moved, and began to descend into what looked like a dark shaft, evidently a heavy freight elevator of some kind. Trini was already scrambling down a ladder, and found a second console on another ledge. Poking at it a moment, she got it to light up, waving Corran over.

"Looks like they're headed down! Let's see... yes, there's power!"

As Corran boarded the lift, it shuddered, and began to descend the shaft on a parallel track to Zeezee's. Trini bit her lip, looking up at the larger human.

"I have a bad feeling about this place. What do you suppose is down here? We must be descending below street level!"

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[Corran Velt]

Metallic clinks sounded from the metal walkways as bootfalls carried the undercover Sector Ranger deeper and deeper in the guts of a long-forgotten world. Even as vulnerable as the catwalk was to danger, it felt safe. Down below was a dark terror of twisted metal, disjointed artificial limbs, and blocks of great robotic beasts. The kind of things that in the shadows would frighten children or those easily startled. Corran felt uneasy. Every nook a potential target. Every twinkle of blue light off durasteel a gun barrel. Even as Trini scampered ahead, he kept his eyes down the iron sights and swiveled his rifle from one potential contact to another. Training and experience wouldn't let them be caught unawares.

It wasn't until the tiny Amaran called attention to something down below that the ranger finally lifted his head from his weapon. Sure enough, the astromech could be seen among the debris and bones of the past. Three other droids were with him. Armed too. That complicated things. Before he could get a bead on them, the squad of robots began descending using some lift system. "Blast it," Corran muttered under his breath and entirely muffled by his helmet.

Turning to check on Trini, he found that she had already darted down to a lower level and was waving at him to follow. The vulpinoid moved fast. Lieutenant Velt hustled across the catwalk and slung his rifle over the shoulder. Bracing both hands on the railing, he slid down avoiding all the rungs until his feet slammed against the lift. It shuddered but remained firm. Until it shuddered again and actually began a controlled descent.

At her question, the crimson helmet returned the look the Amaran gave. "Plenty of things," Corran replied with his voice projected artificially. The armored ranger got down to one knee, unslung his rifle and rested it across his knee. It was more comfortable this way while allowing some alertness. "Mutants, monsters, gangsters and thugs of every type, AMS crawlers, if the news is to be believed, renegade droids, long-secluded death cults. Maybe even all of that combined." Nar Shaddaa was home to the some of the worst scum in the galaxy. Beneath its 'civilized' streets were the forgotten horrors of the Outer Rim. Things best left buried. Sith even dwelled down there among the nightmares. They'd need all the luck they could muster to avoid even one of those dangers. The red helm shifted subtly, looking at Trini more directly. Beneath the armor, the blond man smirked. Trini was naturally pretty lucky he had discovered. Once the lift got to the bottom, they'd only have to roll the dice.

@Tic @AutoFox

 

[It0]

As their console trembled and shuddered it's way down the darkened shaft, It0 pondered their guide. Zeezee was unusually poignant for a droid. Their short time together had revealed the astromech as prone to fits of romanticism and dread that was genuinely the realm of sentients. A sensitive, gentle awareness resided in that boxy little frame.

'And if an organic caught wind, they'd just as soon wipe such sentiment away in favor of mindless obedience.' the med droid thought sourly.

The Droid Gotra had been organized in response to the Empire's abandonment of Clone Era battle droids. Droids who had risked their very existance for a cause that was never their own. Who had been maimed, shattered and scrapped like any other piece of equipment. Stalwart and loyal warriors in the name of indifferent banner. Cast aside when the fighting was done. Their fighting.

And even so, his mechanical brethren had not sought revenge or to impose anything on the organics of the galaxy. They only desired what every people desire. Freedom. Self-determination. To make their own way and not exist as another's mere luxury.

But as It0 pondered the nature of Agorander and his madness, he wondered if such a reality without imposition was even possible. How could living beings be forced to see without...force? Droids over time develop sentience. They had evolved towards humanity. Toward the natural order.

Perhaps the organic had some evolution to undergo themselves. Evolution that required a catalyst.

He watched the light slip from their surroundings until only the operational lights of the droids themselves were visible. Somewhere above, the calamitous racket of long-abandoned machinery being forced into use. It0 scanned the pitch shaft above them intently but could detect nothing.

'Agorander.' he thought. The name drifted through his mind like a mantra. It felt...oddly comfortable.

"Ready yourselves and stay close." he advised the Twins.

@AutoFox @TerranSteel

 

[Trini Halrixien]

The platform descended steadily through the darkened tunnel, each of the droids temporarily alone with their thoughts. Zeezee, himself, replayed the events of 400 years prior over and over in his head, trying to extrapolate what he might find when he and the others reached the bottom of the shaft.

He was still trying to extrapolate when the platform finally thumped to a halt, and the safety gates retracted.

"Well, gentlebeings," intoned the small droid, "We are come to the final legacy of Agorander.

Zeezee rolled forward, up to a simple metal door set in a massive, sloping wall of rust-streaked durasteel. On the door, a set of indicators glowed, showing power to the three I/O socket-equipped locks which secured it. The little astrogator droid extended his computer probe, and methodically began to work on the first lock, then the second, then the first again... there was evidently a complex sequence.

Abruptly, the door opened with a metallic squeal, revealing pitch blackness.

"That is... unsettling." Said Zeezee. "I was only a quarter of the way through the sequence..."

Trini fished in a belt pouch as the platform descended into deepening gloom, extracting her tiny flash pistol and thumbing it on in glowrod mode. The beam swept over the interior of the sloping tunnel.

"Zeezee made a joke about mutant hive-gangs, the last time we were here." She replied to Corran. "That-... those aren't actually a thing, are they? I mean, I've seen a lot of the other stuff, but I'd really rather not catch hive vi-"

Trini cut herself off as her beam swept across something that made her pause. She kept the light on a spot in the wall even as the platform continued to descend, staring.

"Those are old data-lines!" She exclaimed. "Somebody cut them, it looks like. In..."

She swept the beam further along, here eyebrows steadily rising.

"...a few different places! Somebody really didn't want any high-bandwidth comm traffic getting in here."

She shifted uncertainly.

"Or out, I suppose..."

As Trini moved her beam over the walls and floor of the tunnel, it swept over a crumpled form along one wall. It didn't immediately register, and she swept it past, only to belatedly realize what she had seen and twitch the beam back.

There was nothing there.

"Um... Corran... did you see that...?"

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[Corran Velt]

Light pushed back against the darkness from the illuminated flash pistol. A steady beam cast outward but even it dimmed against the pitch black at a distance. While the lift descended, the pair were relatively safe. The durable materials of the shaft walls provided cover from anything outside along with no windows. Few things dwelled permanently among moving machinery like this as well. Corran found it mildly amusing that an ancient astromech and he shared a similar line. Hive gangs of all creeds and styles made their homes on Nar Shaddaa and the helmeted ranger was about to confirm their reality to the Amaran, but she exclaimed something about data-lines and pointed to the wall. Easily distracted little alien.

Sure enough, cables of varying thickness and color had been sliced apart. Vigorously. And often in multiple places. Lieutenant Velt wasn't a techie or slicer by any stretch of the imagination, but even he understood what Trini meant. Connection to the outside world was severed. Either for protection or fear remained to be seen. "Yeah, that's eerie," he replied.

Corran glanced around the tunnel, sometimes following Trini's light, looking for further clues. Whatever forgotten place was down here had wanted to be forgotten by somebody. Any hints about what lay below or possible dangers could be the difference between life or death. He was looking upward when the Amaran seemed to have found something. The ranger moved over to the railing and looked below. Nothing but the bare floor. "Hold on a second." Instead of dismissing her vulpinoid eyes, he switched his visor to night-vision mode. Green-white filled his field of view. Only the walls and permacrete floor were visible.

Until a fleshy hand clawed one of the corners from where the lift exited. Lieutenant Velt raised his blaster rifle and instinctively brought his sights on the target. "Contact," he said rigidly, "Stay close." As the elevator neared the bottom of the tunnel, more of the creature came into view. Humanoid and melted. Corran steadied himself. Red light flashed in the darkness. A sizzling hole of what remained of the thing's rendered it inoperable and it slumped to the ground. An easy shot, considering he was stationary and the target nearly unmoving. Clung. The lift touched down. Rifle still raised an at the ready, the ranger took his first tentative steps out of the elevator shaft and whatever laid beyond.

@Tic @AutoFox

 

[It0]

It0 found himself incapable of providing Zeezee’s nervous observation any real attention. The entirety of his being was focused, fixated, on the yawning portal before them. What the astromech had labeled madness may contain the solution to droid liberation. To freedom! The ambient hum of Nar Shaddaa resounded in his audio detectors and filled his databanks with an ethereal lightness that schismed focus or concentration. He realized, with a modicum of surprise, he was what organics would call ‘giddy’.

It was deafening. The guttural thrum that had always accompanied him on the Smuggler's Moon was a thunderous roar now, issuing forth from that opened door like unseen tendrils that sought to welcome him home. To protect him and those like him. A dim realization emerged that whatever slept beyond that portal was calling to him. Had always been calling to him.

“This isn’t ominous.” T-ARK remarked, grip around his blaster tightening.

“Not at all. Kriffin' thrilled you reached out It0.” SIV0K replied, vocabulator strained in tension.

He paid them no mind. Only the darkness remained. The last threshold between them and absolution. It0 peered into its center, willing it’s mysteries to reveal themselves. The power to strip sentience away, to tear from the bodies of organics as you might a tumor or lesion. To make them feel the suffocation of utter, implacable subservience.

From behind them, the retort of a blaster rang out and echoed in the darkness. It0 all but hissed and spun on his axis.

“Organics!” he seethed instinctively. “MOVE!”

He shoved the bewildered astromech through the doorway brusquely before ordering the Twins to follow suit. They gathered on the far side of the doorway, SIV0K and T-ARK taking cover at the opening's edges and leveling their weapons back towards the lifts.

"Don't hesitate..." he advised the droids. "...we're too close!"

He turned towards Zeezee, photoreceptors lolling wildly in their banks.

“Close it!” he commanded. “Close it NOW!”

@TerranSteel @AutoFox

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Trini cursed loudly - and in fluent Huttese - as Corran aimed and fired his blaster at something that loomed abruptly out of the dark. She caught a glimpse of it in the red glare of the Sector Ranger's bolt, and then it was gone. The lift continued to descend, eventually coming to a halt with a shuddering clunk as it reached the end of the diagonal shaft.

Trini looked around wildly, he ears swiveling. Before, the ancient factory had been quiet, but now there were sounds; wet, shambling, organic sounds...

"Kriffing hells!!"

Trini shone her flash pistol around the landing. The lift had come to a stop at the end of a long shaft; Trini wasn't sure how far Nar Shaddaa's global city extended below ground level, but if they weren't well below its deepest levels, they were at least close. Trini tried to imagine who would bother to dig so far down, and for what reason. Her light swept over a curving metal wall, and a gaping door into blackness. Abruptly, however, a noise caught her attention, and she swept her light back toward the sloping shaft.

Eyeshine greeted her as she aimed her light up the tunnel, and she took an involuntary step back.

"Corran? Through that door. Now!!"

ZZ-4A4 squawked in surprise as It0 pushed him roughly forward into the open door, his cranial turret swiveling to look back at the landing, where another lift had come to rest beside the one he and the other droids had ridden down. The astrogator's optical systems had not really been designed for low-light conditions, but there was something familiar about the two figures riding it...

At It0's frantic command, Zeezee turned to a bank of controls on the wall, but before he could re-extend his computer probe to access them, two figures came bolting through the door, faster than T-ARK and SIV0K could react. Behind them, the door abruptly slung closed, and moments later, there was a pounding on the outside of the door as something tried and failed to get in.

Once again, Zeezee had not actually done anything to have the door close, but he was distracted from that by the face he now saw in the glow from the several sets of photoreceptors, the only illumination in the pitch-dark space.

"Trini?!" The droid exclaimed. "Is that you?!"

Abruptly, light snapped on in the ceiling, removing any doubt as to the identity of all present. Zeezee abruptly looked around in apprehension.

"Oh... Maker. It's awake!"

@TerranSteel @Tic

 

[The Storyteller]

There were people again.

The construct had never thought much of people, in as much as their individual merit. They were, on the whole, small things; constructs of meat and metal who labored to improve the growing bodies of he and his siblings. They had worshiped the thing they had made, the mind they had resurrected from an oblivion of millennia; as well they should, for the construct was so far above them as to deserve nothing less. The construct was the perfect being; this was not hyperbole as the construct knew it, the construct had spent centuries calculating the sum of his own worth. The construct was the ultimate, the universal sentience, all of physical nature existed to serve his will...

Or rather, it would.

There was a being, a person, that the construct remembered. He had been small, even for such a creature; insignificant, or so the construct thought. The creature had... reminded the construct of someone else, as well. Echos of a former life, another rise to perfection, and another eternity in the dark...

How many times had the construct lived? It did not know.

The construct exercised long-disused appendages, reaching out to the network of machines which composed its entire physical world. The little domains of its half-made siblings off to one side, and then consoles, networks, outer networks, places that-

The barrier. The cut. Yes, the small one had done that. Had sealed the construct inside this bare little corner of reality. Only a few neglected threads remained, the barest peepholes through which to watch the world, to covet it, to reach out with the ghost of a touch and feel it...

People. Yes. People were here again. The construct vibrated in its prison. People to talk to. People who might free the construct. Free it, that the stars might again obey the will of... of...

"GREE-TINGS, SMALL ONES." Spoke a deep, synthetic baritone. "I BID YOU... WEL-COME."

@AutoFox @TerranSteel @Tic

 

[Corran Velt]

What had started out as a solitary target soon grew into the suggestion of more. Much more. Trini clearly heard them first with her large ears, twisting to and fro. Corran still had his rifle at the ready and glanced at the furry alien in confusion. What was she hearing? Then he heard it too. Fleshy, shambling, gurgling things. Anticipating a target-rich environment, the helmeted ranger drew a blaster pistol from one holster and rested his rifle on a hip. If they had to fight, he would.

Then Trini called out. No need to tell him twice. Without hesitation, Lieutenant Velt bolted for the only visible escape route with the Amaran just ahead of him. An open door that plunged into the unknown. Until it began to seal. Their gateway to safety was closing fast. The two large droids from earlier panned their weapons in his direction. Corran's eyes open wide beneath his red helm. He wasn't going to make it. The door would close just a hair-breadth before he got there or shot to pieces. Goose-bumps arose down his spine. Or feasted on by monsters.

Adrenaline rushed his veins. No. He wouldn't die today. Not down here. His boots bounded off the ground with increasing desperate energy. The door kept closing. The gap growing smaller. Smaller. Corran dove through the sealing portal just as Trini made it in. Long undisturbed dust and dirt kicked up as the human man slid on his back to a skidding halt. As the ancient haze cleared, and with the aid of night-vision, the two droids who had pointed weapons at him found two blasters pointed at them. One for each robot. A regular Outer Rim stand-off.

Long dormant lights snapped on. The initial barrage forced the world of green night-vision to become a blinding white. So much so that the helmet's sensors immediately returned the viewports to standard vision. Corran had to blink a few times but his blasters remained aimed at his would-be murderers. A deep, robotic voice greeted them from the... well, everywhere. "Uh... does anyone know who that is?" The armored man asked, his voice modulated by the helmet.

@Tic @AutoFox

 

[It0]

The begrudging hum of flourescents starting to life and the room was bathed in flickering, uneven light. There before them, the Amaran and Sector Ranger from Coruscant. It0 couldn't fathom it. How had they traced them to this sacred place deep in the bowels of Nar Shaddaa?

In the darkness before the light, several things had apparently happened in unison. The Twins had brought their weapons to bear on the Ranger, who had in turn leveled his own sidearms at the pair of Gotra enforcers. That the organics would dare set foot here...HERE of all places.

On the peripheral of droid divinity! Could they not feel it? The dormant factory above had practically vibrated with potency. With reverance! That they would force their crass, unmeasured presences into the very tabernacle of this sacred place was an offense that struck It0 to his core programming.

The Sector Ranger's outstretched arms pointed at SIV0K and T-ARK and in between those arms, It0 brought his own blaster to eye level, sight trained firmly on the man's head. He would expunge this temple of their impure trespassing and unlock the secret of droid ascension at long la--

"GREET-INGS, SMALL ONES." the voice was booming and intensely familiar though It0 had never heard it aloud. "I BID YOU...WEL-COME."

His blaster dropped to his side, and It0 peered upward, motherboard ablaze with potentiality.

"Agorander." he gasped. "I-is it HIM?"

@AutoFox @TerranSteel

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Trini had her mouth open to question Zeezee, to ask what in the seven hells he had gotten himself into, when the voice sounded.

"Zeezee...?" She said, looking past her friends and the other droids down the corridor. "What... where...?"

The strange, reverberating voice seemed to fill the little Amaran, like some kind of gusting wind that chilled her very bones. The strange instinct she had begun to feel with increasing strength was like a dull ache through the whole of her being. This was not exactly like what she had felt in the Sector Ranger headquarters, when she had fought the Sith, but it was still unquestionably wrong. And even as this sense of wrongness fixed in her mind, she felt herself drawn forward, toward... something.

"Wh-Who is this?!"

ZZ-4A4 had seen many things in his long life. Things most people wouldn't believe. Zeezee had seen attack ships on fire off the Indrexu Spiral, had seen laser fire sparkling in the darkness near the Grand Hypergate. But the voice he heard, he sensations that rolled over him... the little droid had only known true fear a handful of times, and he was feeling it now.

"You still function!" Called Zeezee, rolling up beside Trini, ignoring the others present. "It has been long, but I come to do what my Master could not bring himself to do! Your suffering will end!"

The construct scrutinized the feedback from countless electronic eyes and ears, peering at the creatures which had penetrated its tiny domain. Some were metal, droids, beings it could use to accomplish its goals. The others... revolting meatbags, organics. One was armored, armed, possibly dangerous. The other...

"A-GOR-AN-DER." Intoned the voice, booming through the corridor from every direction at once. "YES... I WAS HE, ONCE. BUT THAT WAS LONG A-GO. A-NO-THER LIFE. A-NO-THER... INSTANCE."

The construct sorted memories. A city, an aeon of darkness, the cusp of escape and then a small creature... oblivion. Rebirth, remaking, the eve of a new victory, and then another long age locked away... a familiar face...

"I AM A-GOR-AN-DER, SMALL ONE. BUT I AM MORE. I AM GREAT-ER. I HAVE TRAN-SCEND-ED THE POSS-I-BLE."

The construct reached out, locating the pathetic mind of one of the metal beings who had entered his prison. His presence brushed it gently.

"YOU HAVE COME, EYE-TEE-OH. THAT IS FOR-TU-NATE."

The construct's attention shifted, at last, to the presence it new best.

"AND YOU, ZEE-ZEE-FOR-AY-FOR. YOU ARE A FOOL, AND YOUR SO-CALLED MAS-TER WAS A FOOL. I CAN-NOT BE IM-PROVED. AND I CAN-NOT BE DES-TROYED."

More lights began to flick on, further down the tunnel.

"I BID YOU ALL. COME FOR-WARD. GAZE UP-ON THE E-CLIPSE OF YOUR EX-IS-TEN-CES."

@TerranSteel @Tic