Hairpin turn to Smeek

Posted on Tue Sep 25th, 2012 @ 7:52am by Kip Hoddai

614 words; about a 3 minute read

Chapter: Chapter I: Web of Fate
Location: Cargo Shuttle Idrali
Timeline: MD -32

“The information being transmitted to you is for your next assignment,” she informed him softly. “This matter is of some small concern for me, my collection is as yet incomplete, payment under the usual circumstances and in the usual accounts.”

Kip brought his right arm up before him, perfectly vertical and aligned to his shoulder and clenched his fist. She matched his gesture and smiled slightly and then her image disappeared. The Devaronean smuggler cum ‘jobber’ turned to his droid companion sitting at the navigation console and quirked an eyebrow.

F6T (aka ‘Ef’) sat at the console and hit the autopilot before turning to Kip. The highly customized protocol droid, matte black and inlaid with silver filigree above the optical sensor ports, across the upper ‘lip’ of the vocalizer speaker. Missing were the external armatures and orienteer for his arms and legs, the joints were customized with free-motion range and flexibility, his torso had the same flexibility of an organic and he had loaded body-language. Even his fingers had proper articulation and he had invested in micro-processors over the years to upgrade his own processing capabilities.

“I’ve received the coordinates and of course, its your favorite moon in the galaxy,” the self-aware free-willed droid smirked verbally, the eyebrow actuator over his right sensor moved up a couple of millimeters.

“Nar Shadda,” Kip groaned, “she knows I hate that place; it smeeks. I always come back feeling like I need to sit in a fresher for a month to get that stink off of me.”

“You do,” the droid replied, having a olfactory sensor and having identified the pong of Nar Shadda as “unpleasant” some time ago. “And the last time you spent four hours in it until I cut the power and forced you to emerge.”

“And dropped the temperature thirty degrees,” Kip quipped.

“It cut down on the smell until the scrubbers could get rid of it,” Ef gestured with his right hand elegantly around them, the old beat up cargo shuttle they were in had a hyperdrive and good shields and could be surprisingly fast in sublight, when it was required. More importantly, it had a fresher, a tiny med unit and bunk for Kip.

“And almost gave me the greens,” he snorted back.

“I find the green of the mucous leaking from your eyes and nose to be aesthetically pleasing against your skin-tone,” Ef replied with a chuckle and a shrug.

“Nar Shadda,” Kip promoted changing the direction of the conversation back to the subject.

“Kaiburr crystals,” Ef replied, turning back to the console and scanning the flash of data. “The Axion are involved of course,” ignoring Kip’s elaborate sigh, “as well as a Hutt turf war, factions moving against one another.”

“Make some subtle inquiries about my identity and if anyone has me listed,” Kip asked Ef, “see if anyone remembers me from the last time, check our contacts on the moon and wave some credits to our usual sniffer.”

Ef grunted and turned, sliding the seat on the track to the coms console and began to enter a coded transmission and set up multiple inquiries to the Nar Shadda Central Bank and Prax Moht, a sniffer on the moon that had proven helpful in the past. Kip pulled over the secondary chair and moved to the navigation position and keyed in a course change to the Pirate Moon. Once the nav-comp had spit out the appropriate alterations and triple checked them, they dropped out of hyperspace for a moment, turned in a fairly graceful arc and then jumped again, reentering the swirling blue vortex that was the faster-than-light travel solution for the majority of the Galaxy.

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