Topic: Shore Leave (Fixer fanfic)

[DocOutlands]

   Fixer rolled slowly along the station's concourse, watching the myriad of beings going about their business.  The droid was watching for a specific shop tucked away among many, relying on the station's database for directions.  There, almost hidden behind a scruffy Devaronian, was the droid's objective – a doorway labeled “Mej's Decorations.”
   Fixer rolled up to the Devaronian.  “Mej?”
   The horned humanoid idly pointed through the door with a ringed thumb.
   Mej turned out to be a Lamproid, ensconced on a cushioned pillar.  Reclining in a chair that reminded Fixer of a sickbay exam chair was a greenish-skinned Kubaz.  The multi-armed Lamproid was busily wielding several tools, implanting a series of tiny tubes in the humanoid's chest and stomach.
   “Be right with you,” came the sibilant greeting.
   The droid settled in to wait, idly running remote medical scans on all three beings in the meantime.  It had just begun running engineering scans on the parlor's equipment, starting with the Devaronian's hotshotted autostunner, when Mej applied a skin-spray and turned to face his newest visitor.
   “How may I – oh!  How may I help you?”
   Fixer's scanners registered a change in the alien's vitals, usually indicative of surprise and concern in the species it held in it's databanks.
   Fixer extended a fine manipulator and pointed to a flat-screen monitor on the wall.  “I understand you are equipped to emplace holotats.”
   “Well, yes.  I am more accustomed to working on organics, however.  The emitters are rather delicately balanced for bioelectrical inputs.”
   “I understand.  I believe the Hovin I-X unit will be fairly easily adapted to my chassis.”
   “So you have done some research.  Let me check on Navin here.”  Mej hooked up several leads from a console to an adhesive patch and placed it on the Kubaz.  In seconds, the tubes just emplaced began to glow with a soft bluish radiance which seemed to pulse and crawl.  “Oh, very good.  Let us continue while this transfer finishes.  Have you a design already or did you want to pick one out from our house catalog?”
   One of Fixer's opto-receptors had been observing a number of designs on a panel by the door.  Most of them were organics in a variety of mating poses and of little interest to the droid.  It held up a chip.  “I do have a design, but...”  It trailed off as a holo of a Togruta dancer began its routine.  The droid watched the entire run, barely noting the Lamproid's attention returning to the Kubaz.
   “May I assume you like our dancer?”
   “Oh!  My a-a-apologies.  I was … the holo is exquisite.  The m-m-mathematics involved in the movements are easily the most intricate I have ever encountered.”
   Mej's teeth shifted around the circular mouth.  “Then I shall take it your answer is an unhesitating yes.”
   “Oh, absolutely.”  Fixer seemed to notice the data-chip in its manipulator for the first time and slowly let it fall back into its place.  “My design now is not as elegant as I had first thought.  While I have no wish to display an organic mating ritual on my carapace, the mathematics are worthy of emulation.”
   The Lamproid picked up a card-reader and held out a clawed arm.  “Let's take a look at your design, then, shall we?”  Reluctantly, Fixer handed over the data-chip for Mej to slot into the reader.  A holo of an engine diagram sprang into life and began to rotate slowly.
   “It is a Diavek Hetzan-30, the first engine I was able to rebuild on my own,” Fixer offered.
   “Oh, yes.  Yes, I think perhaps Hannen would like to work with you.”

[wraithnine]

at the moment i think Imperial shipyards is a euphorism for Awesome Stories!

[Irish Ninja 97]

Nice story Doc!

[Tamer]

at the moment i think Imperial shipyards is a euphorism for Awesome Stories!

Jay, I have to agree. I am loving this fan fiction. I may never have to buy another book again! Ofcourse the waiting for the next chapter is what I hate. Nice story Doc. I do like ole Fixer.

[DocOutlands]

   Hannen turned out to be an older Siniteen female, employed by the station as an engineer.  Mej had arranged for them to meet during her off-shift hours at Mej's studio.  She looked at Fixer's engine diagram and quirked an eyebrow.  “So, you wish your engine to dance like my Xiana Gol?”
   Fixer worked its main grasper, making a clak-clak noise before answering.  “I believe that would be an apt way to put it, yes.”
   The engineer examined the diagram critically. “Naturally, your subject lacks the sinuous movements inherent in the body of an organic being.  However, there may well be some other areas we can explore.”
   Mej had a datapad out and was entering information.  Thanks to a database update Fixer had purchased between visits, the droid now knew Mej was in fact a male of the species.  A complete medical as well as social primer was available to it.
   Hannen looked up at Fixer over the proffered schematic.  “Droid, why are you doing this?”
   Fixer rotated its dome then dropped it and reextended it on its neck-stalk.  “All real spacers have tattoos.”   

   =====      =====      =====      =====      =====

   “But why?  I am perfectly satisfied with the current state of my carapace.”
   “Because you are an individual, Fixer.  You shouldn't have to look like every other unit of your type.”
   clk-chk.  “Interesting.  Even the clone troopers did in fact take some small measures to distinguish themselves.”
   “Exactly!  So … what color would you like?”
   “I am allowed to choose?”


   “Chief Z'zik, I had a most curious encounter with Igna.  She wishes to paint me.”
   “Yes.  Navy Gray very boring to see.  What color you pick?”
   “I-I-I was not sure she could paint me.  I am not her property, after all.”
   Z'zik set down the circuitry module he'd been repairing and flipped the macrogoggles off his eyes.  He switched from Galactic Basic to his native Verpine.
   “Fixer, too many gee-bees believe the Senate's propaganda about the threat of the Separatists' droid armies.  They've transferred that fear to all droids, now.  Despite the fact that manumitted droids have shown no more likelihood to go on a murderous rampage than an organic, many local governments have begin restricting free droids, requiring proof of ownership at the least, with some requiring restraining bolts, regular memory-wipes, and so on.”
   The engineer ground his mandibles together.  “It it an affront to me that intelligence must be bound and enslaved.  I know how your protocol matrices are programmed and am willing to trust you or any other commercial droid with your own decisions.”
   “But you own me.”
   “Only because someone must.  I do not expect or desire for you to check with me for approval before making decisions.”  He thought for a moment.  “Were you allowed to select treatment courses for patients?”
   “W-w-within bounds, yes.  Serious cases required supervision by an EmDee, 2-1B, or organic.”
   The engineer nodded, his antennae twitching.  “Exactly the same.  Matters that affect you directly are your own decision.”
   “I … see.”  Fixer drew in all its manipulators and dropped its head on its stalk.
   Z'zik watched for a few seconds, then turned back to his original task.  Severl minutes went by before Fixer made another sound.  Without looking up, Z'zik asked, “What color you pick?”
   Clack-clack.  “I believe the pairing of Jonalla Racing Blue and Burgandy 413 may be mathematically pleasing.”
   With the Verpine equivalent of a chuckle, Z'zik said, “Check with Igna.  She know visual esthetic.”

[Tamer]

Fixers getting a tat!

[DocOutlands]

   Fixer retracted the microsterilizer and examined the area with an enhanced opto-receptor.  “Vandan skin rot is a decidedly pernicious infection.  You are extremely fortunate we caught it before it spread and began making spores.  How did it start on your-”
   “New piercing.”  Kanda shrugged her coverall back on and sealed it.
   “Yes, but then why pierce your-”
   “Hey, Tin-doc.  A girl's ears were full.”  The Sullustan pointed to her head, where each ear sported nearly a dozen rings or studs.  “Gotta keep a girl's face free for breath-masks and finger-rings and necklaces tend to hang up.”
   “But to deliberately violate the integrity of your carapace?”
   The gunner made a chuffing laugh.  “Easy to lift a girl's creds from her pouch.  Not so to pull out jewelry.  Something like a mobile strongbox.”
   Fixer briefly considered the internal pharmaceutical dispensers, now used to carry creds.  “Fascinating.  So you protect your wealth by flaunting it.  But could a thief not just stun you and remove the jewelry at leisure?”
   “To easy to see when one stays in the crowds.  Gotta boost, Tin-doc.  Sabacc tonight, yes?”
   “As you say, geebee.  Please return in seventy-two hours so I may observe the infection site.”
   With the door to Fixer's tiny medical ward closed, the droid thought about ornamentation.  Aesthetics.  Perhaps Igna would have some advice.  She'd done well with the new carapace colors, after all.  Fixer decided to ask her at tonight's sabacc game.

   “Earrings?  Wait, you want to hang useless bits of shiny metal on your frame?”
   “Y-y-you have done so.  And so have most other c-c-crewmembers.”
   Igna sighed heavily then grinned.  “So you want to be an individual, just like everyone else.”
   “Yes.”
   Trav sidled up to Fixer and the cargo-handler, a mug of – Fixer ran a chem-analysis – Marian ale in hand.  “What're you two globbed up about?”
   “Fixer was asking my opinion about earrings.”
   “Really!  Got a girl you are trying to impress, Fixer?”  Judging from the man's laughter, this mug was not his first.
   “No, for himself.  I think silver for color complement and loops to match the circumfrence of your chassis.”
   “Wait, no.  Fixer wants earrings?”  Trav reached up and idly brushed at the glittering stud in his left ear.  “Fixer, buddy.  Why earrings?  You don't have ears.”
   “Technically speaking, I do have audio-receptors.  But as to why, the majority of the crew, as well as other spacers I have encountered, wear jewelry – particularly earrings.”
   “Nah, nah.”  Trav patted the droid's hull.  “A real spacer has tattoos.”  With that bit of wisdom imparted, the man staggered off across the crew lounge.

   “Where's your earrings, Fixer?”
   clack-clack.  “They became a greater annoyance than I could accept, Lieutenant.  The metallic ringing as I moved tended to overload my audio-receptors.  I found that to be an unacceptable situation.”
   Igna dealt the sabacc cards to the players.  “Pity.  I thought they looked quite nice.”
   Fixer picked up its cards and studied them.  “Your sense of aesthetics is in no way lacking, geebee.  However, function must occasionally take precedence.”  The droid added creds to the pot.  “I am quite satisfied with having taken Bavin's advice and not drilled holes in my dome.  That made removal a far less marring experience.”

   ======   ======   ======   ======   ======   ======

[DocOutlands]

   “So each one then tells a small part of your personal history.”
   “Yeah, right.  Usually get one for a first-time event or special occasion.  Things I want to remember or brag about.  What about you?  What would you want to show off that makes your circuits tingle in satisfaction?”  Lieutenant Dane folded his arms and leaned back against the bulkhead.
   “I d-d-don't know, sir.”  Fixer concentrated on the control panel Dane had brought to Engineering for diagnostics.  The droid worked its way back through memory banks.  “Before coming aboard the [X], my existence was … I shall call it 'flat' as that seems the closest match.  I had a purpose – to assist in repairing injured and unwell organics.  There was a degree of satisfaction involved, but there was little drive.”  Fixer recalled the discussion with Z'zik and the sudden awareness of possibilities that had awakened as a result.
   “Being mustered out is another memorable occasion.”
   “For an organic, true.  However, being sold for scrap is not an event that seems worthy of commemoration.”
   Dane laughed.  “From that point of view, I'll concede.”  His face grew thoughtful.  “There are those who suggest every event occurs for a purpose.  That regardless of good or ill in the specific act, we can find a reason.”
   Fixer picked up a logic probe from the work-table.  “Why not a tool, sir?  Every occurrence may be a discreet unit, waiting for each of us to give it a purpose.”
   Dane applauded softly.  “Philosophy from a medical droid?  A protocol droid, I would expect, but from a glorified medi-kit?”
   Fixer regarded the First Officer for a moment and decided the man was not being derisive.  “As you say, sir.  I am no longer the droid I was when we met.  While I retain the purpose of providing medical attention to organics, other purposes have been added to my existance.  It is … as I said, I no longer feel flat.”
   Fixer nudged the console toward Dane.  “I suggest not allowing Jossen to chew his kaj-nuts while on duty.  Their juice is corrosive when electrified and he lacks the consistent aim needed to hit his mug when spitting.
   Dane laughed and picked up the console.  “I'll let the Captain know, Fixer.  Thanks.
   “Thank you, sir.  I shall continue to evaluate your question and perhaps I shall arrive at an answer.”
   Dane paused in the doorway.  “Fixer, of everyone on the ship and everyone I have known, your answer intrigues me the most.  I look forward to it.”  With that, the First Officer headed for the bridge.

[DocOutlands]

   “C-c-captain!  Come i-i-in.”  Fixer set down the maze of circuitry that was normally the port number one sublight engine's positronic induction grid and folded in his fine manipulators.
   The Wookiee folded himself through the hatchway and sat down on one of the benches along Engineering's bulkhead.  He hooted a question at the droid and grinned, leaning back.
   “I-I-I am evaluating the concept, yes, sir.  I-i-is that a problem?”
   The captain threw his head back and howled in laughter.  Leaning forward, he wiped tears from his eyes.  <<No, no, Fixer.  It isn't a problem at all.  I've never encountered a droid with a personality like yours, that's all.>>  The Wookiee laughed again, softer this time.  <<Well, and I lost ten creds to Trav.  I suggested he was not clear in his understanding of the situation.  Okay, I called him a mud-brain.>>
   “Oh, dear.  I can-”
   Wran waved the droid to silence.  <<It was fairly wagered.  I consider the lesson to be worth the price.  So what are you going to get done?>>
   clack-clack  “I had considered a subdermal injection of pigment such as most geebees get.  However, if I did that, why not just paint an intricate design on my carapace?”
   Wran's throat rumbled as he thought.  <<Good point.  Knowing you, there's some other approach.>>
   “Indeed, sir.  During landfall on Klannin, I chanced to encounter H'vaan.  You remember the Devaronian free-trader?”
   <<And part-time pirate, yes.>>
   “Well, he had just received a holo-tat.  It was a series of miniature holoemitters arranged in his skin to project a design that seemed to grow out of his arm.”  Fixer worked all four fine manipulators in sequence.  “Of course, I don't think I shall be having a female Devaronian's reproductive organs attached to my carapace.”
   Wran blinked in consternation.  <<He didn't.>>
   “I'm afraid he did, sir.  If you'd like, I could download the pertinent-”
   The Wookiee shuddered.  <<No, no – I believe you.  Well then what are you considering?>>
   “Lieutenant Dane asked me, as well.  Everyone I've talked to suggests they have tattoos emplaced to commemorate some significant event or special place or person.  I must say, I am at a loss.”
   Captain Wran idly ran his fingers through his facial hair. <<So what is important to you, Fixer?>>
   clack-clack.  “My crew, of course.  I believe that is part of my core programming, so I set that aside for now.  After that...”  The droid thought back to the conversation with Z'zik and the strange feeling that had begun to spread after realizing the Chief Engineer did not consider the droid to be just another piece of talking equipment, but an independent entity capable of making its own decisions.
   <<Follow that thought.  You may not have facial expressions, droid, but I can read your body language.  What did you just realize is important?>>
   “I-I-I believe … I h-h-hesitate to call it 'freedom,' but the ability to determine my own actions.  But I can't do that, can I?  I mean, I have my functions here aboard the ship...”
   <<Everyone has duties aboard ship, Fixer.  How does that make you less free than any other crewman?>>
   Fixer's head dropped on its stalk and rotated back and forth several times.  Finally, “I had n-n-not considered it from that perspective, sir.  Perhaps it is a hold-over from my military behavior programming.  Of course, my original design left me immobile, so deciding to venture out was not an option then.”
   <<We all default back to our original behavior training when faced with new circumstances.  I'd say talk to the Chief and find out what limits he will impose on your movements, because as far as I am concerned, you are just like any other crewman.  I expect you to perform your duties to the ship as defined by your section chief, in this case, Chief Z'zik.  The fact you are owned adds a minor complication that the two of you need to work out.>>
   “Sir, forgive me if I touch on a sensitive topic, but the mention of being owned seems to have set you in a mood to fight.”
   Captain Wran growled long and low in his throat.  <<Some time when you aren't busy, you should look into how Palpatine's vaunted New Order has treated my people.  I have no love for this glorious new Empire that's being built on the backs of non-humans.  My people are rapidly being sold into slavery and this man approves.  It is rumored he even encouraged it in retaliation for something that happened during the war.  No, there is no love for the Empire here – in fact, if the Empire loves it, we avoid it and if the Empire hates it, we seek it out.>>
   “I … see.  That philosophy explains a number of observations I have made.”
   <<But that's enough of the disgusting stuff.  We were talking about your prospective tattoo.  Freedom is a hard thing to render.>>
   Clack-clack.  “As you say.  However...  After the Chief and I discussed matters concerning my making decisions for myself without first vetting them with him, I found an old  Diavek repulsorlift, a Hetzan-30.”  Fixer paused, remembering the purchase and returning the large engine to the ship.  It had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase, based on the low asking price, the amount and type of disrepair of the engine, and the fact Fixer knew of a certain Abyssin in desperate need of one to complete a pet project.  The mathematics of the situation were decidedly in the droid's favor, so the purchase was made and delivery arranged.
   It hadn't taken long for the internal comm-link to chime with the assistant engineer on duty calling.  “Fixer, we've got some sort of racing engine on the dock.  Says you told 'em to bring it over.”
   “That is correct, Vanni.”
   “It ain't gonna fit in Engineering.”
   “No.  I had thought it could be set next door, in Hold -”
   “Did the Chief clear it with the Captain?”
   “This is a personal purchase, Vanni.  Is there a problem?”
   “I dunno.  I'll call you back.”
   Fixer worked the laser-cutter arm in consternation.  Other crew-members brought in personal purchases from dockside all the time.  Z'zik had said there was no need to clear personal decisions with him, but now Vanni was asking if Fixer had done just that.  Space for storage wasn't an issue – the hold next to Engineering was notoriously difficult to get standard cargo containers in and out of, so it was used more as a ship's stores area and was almost never filled more than half-full.  Fixer wondered if the purchase had been a mistake.
   The comm-link chimed again, this time from Z'zik.  “You buy engine, droid?”
   “Y-y-yes, sir.  D-d-did I d-d-do something wr-wr-wrong?”
   “Nope.  Vanni being a glit-louse.  Have fun.”

   Fixer had returned to the ship later that shift and had set to work on the engine.  It commandeered an unused MSE droid to begin the monumental task of simply cleaning away the grime from the engine.  Then it set up several diagnostic tattle-tales that would relay to Fixer's own internals so the droid would be able to find out exactly what was wrong with the engine.  Satisfied with this state of affairs, Fixer headed for engineering to take over the next shift.

   “So I suppose in a way, the Diavek Hetzan-30 represents my first free step.  I made the decision to acquire the unit with an end in mind that benefited myself rather than the entire ship or Chief Z'zik.  I optimized my own resources to pursue that goal while not allowing my duties to go unfulfilled.”
   Captain Wran threw his head back and howled in laughter, causing Fixer's head to drop.  The giant creature stood up and patted the top of the droid's dome.  <<You lost me 10 creds when I walked in, but by the Great Tree, you just earned me five hundred!  Poor Dane – he was sure you would pick something from your military service.  Thankfully, I knew you better than that and claimed you'd go for something mechanical.>>
   Fixer watched Wran leave, confused by the organics' desire to wager on an individual's course of action.  The confusion was replaced quickly by the desire to lay out a balanced schematic that could be managed and manipulated by the holoemitters.

[beige-4]

this is great i love fixer

[hangarbay94]

Doc, to say I am impressed with this is a huge understatement. As I read it I kept saying to myself "I can't believe how great this is". The subtlety in the way you tell a story is a real pleasure to read. I also love the way you structure each conversation, making each character come to life. I think you are an extraordinary writer.

A wonderful read!

[dana.raye.smith]

I have been waiting for this for so long, Doc.
Finally a little more insight to Fixer.
This is a great read, and you are doing a wonderful job bringing the tale and characters to life.
I look forward to more updates, and thans for sharing this with us.

[Tamer]

This forum section is better than the SW section at my library. Nice Doc. I too love Fixer material. I am sorry I am just now getting to it. I can't wait to see what he does with his engine.

[DocOutlands]

I'm a bit late saying it, I'll admit!  I ran across my Shore Leave notes earlier today while looking for some other info and decided I needed to re-read the "published" version on the 'Yards.  And here I see I have fan-mail!!  I do need to sit back down and make another run at Shore Leave, so that I can wrap it up and move on. 

In fact, November is "National Novel-Writing Month" and I'm considering taking a stab at it this year, working Fixer stories, fragments, and notes into a whole novel.  I've already got several elements in place and under development that could - I think - be tied together.  So we'll see what happens!

Thanks again, guys!  Glad you've enjoyed reading it and are eagerly looking forward to more.  And oh yes there will be more...eventually...

[UnitedStatesDemocrat]

Great writing, Doc!  I love your use of more sophisticated words, rather than the use of "dead words".  Great writing style all around!