Ok, I'd written a chunk of story last night - 300-ish words - when a new twist hit me. Some of the very last words from the last update are now...wrong. I've gone back and copied part of that scene to set the mood, but things have changed - and I think it is for the better. Yeah, y'all are basically getting to see a story grow almost from the ground up. So, anyway, here's the next installment...
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“Aw, somebody's in deep trouble now,” said Trav. The work-party looked up and everyone cringed slightly at the sight of a [green-trimmed] ARC trooper in full battle array entering the bay. “Who-”
“Can it, Trav.”
They watched in silence as the trooper finished his approach and stopped in front of them. “I need to speak with your captain, please.”
Aistley, the navigator, shook her head. “Sorry, sir. Captain's not aboard. Lieutenant Dane is. I can comm him, if you'd like.” At the trooper's nod, she pulled her comlink from her belt. “Lieutenant, there's a trooper here who is asking to speak to the ranking officer on site.”
”I'll be right out.”
ARC troopers had a nasty reputation, so no one kept them waiting. Dane was outside the ship in short order, tugging on his jacket as he went. He nodded a greeting to the trooper. “[Sergeant]. How can I help you?”
Fixer was certain the ARC trooper was the same one from the incident of the day before. During military service, the clones had been as distinct to Fixer as had any other two beings of a given species. The vitals – what readings Fixer could take from a distance and through the trooper's armor – were close enough to those of the other trooper for the droid to feel certain they were the same person.
Interesting. I wonder what he is up to.
“Lieutenant, I understand you are scheduled to make a port-call on Dundraaken. I have a cargo I would like to ship to a friend there.”
“Ah. Oh. What manner of cargo?”
“A live specimen in its own sealed enviro-crate.”
Something in the ARC's vitals caught Fixer's curiosity. He is definitely up to something. The droid opened its research channels and connected to the planet's local holonet to scan local news and information sources. It quickly worked its way back through a number of databases to discover a certain Olimaa's Ktish had been impounded shortly before the incident involving the two clones. The light freighter's next port of call was listed as Dundraaken. Oh, yes. Definitely up to something.
Lieutenant Dane cocked an eyebrow at the trooper. “Live creature? We're two weeks away from our call at Dundraaken.”
“All its needs will be provided for inside the crate. It is a nesting blistmok, so it needs very little food for now. I'll provide a complete file for your medical droid over there, in case of an emergency.”
“A blistmok. Are they dangerous?”
The ARC trooper chuckled. “Only if they are awake or untrained. My friend is interested in training this one's young, once they hatch as a hunting pack. However, this specimen will pose no danger to your ship. A nesting mother is interested in little more than protecting and hatching her babies. Of course, if you were to enter the container, she would eat you. Or kill you and save you for the hatchlings.”
Fixer was convinced from his readings of the trooper's vitals that he wasn't telling the crew everything. However, the combat aggression tags weren't showing, so he wasn't trying to harm the ship's crew.
“Droid. Are you former military?” The question came across a receiver that Fixer had almost forgotten existed. It was set to short-range shipboard frequencies used on Fleet ships.
“I am. My last posting before being sold for scrap was a secondary medbay on the Victory-class Dauntless. Is your companion recovering, sir?”
“Ah, carrying a dangerous cargo normally incurs additional charges.”
“Very good, droid. I wasn't entirely certain you would recognize me in uniform.”
“I understand there will be a hazardous cargo fee, of course. That isn't a problem. Getting the clutch deliered before they hatch is the main concern. Two weeks is beginning to stretch the window.”
Fixer had pulled an Encyclopedia Galactia article on the lizards. Training needed to begin for the hatchlings almost as soon as they broke out of their shells. Yes, time would be of the essence for this delivery.
The droid listened as the two men settled the terms of the shipment. When they finished, the ARC trooper came oer with a datapad. “Here's the bio-files on the shipment.” He connected the 'pad to Fixer's scomp-port and examined its readout for a moment. ”FX-0R8, initialize security protocol Bevin-Four-Hesk-Lott and authenticate.”
Fixer responded, as required, by the same method of communication. “Protocol initialized. I authenticate Takk-Mandin-Zero-Gall.”
”You are receiving a data-dump on the blistmok and the crate will provide sensor-readings as if it were actually occupied by one sitting on a clutch of eggs. However, my brother and I wanted someone to know the real situation in case of an emergency. The ship my brother was supposed to leave on was impounded.”
”The Olimaa's Ktish, I believe.”
”Droid, if you didn't have the lockdown proided by that security protocol, I'd order you in for a memory-wipe. You are entirely too perceptive. In my world, that makes you either extremely useful or exceedingly dangerous. However, I'm having to hope 'useful' wins. My brother is in that crate your ship will be carrying. He should have all the supplies he'll need for the trip, but in case he doesn't, someone will need to be able to access his compartment. The information on how to do that is in the second set of files you are receiving. Your mission is to make sure that crate reaches Dundraaken safely with no one finding out what is really inside. Pick-up is already arranged. Een with the lockdown protocol, I can't provide you with any more information than that.”
”Did he really go insane?”
”What? Where'd you hear that? Listen, droid -”
”My name is now Fixer, trooper ARC-9904. Or if you prefer, FX-0R8. I have done my best throughout my service to provide the best care possible to both the clones and the non-clones – who you refer to as mutts – within my dutystation. I now serve Captain Wran and his crew and if your companion did indeed become unstable, then he poses a threat to my current dutystation. If I am to carry out my duties properly – to eeryone involved – I need an answer.”
“I... I apologize. His name is Liin, trooper RI-8270. I go by Jux. No, the insanity bit was something that got cooked up in order to let me pick him up so I could make him disappear.”
”Disappear? I thought that was what Kessel was for.”
”No, that's how the Empire makes people disappear. Clones... look, when a droid is obsolete or severely damaged, it can be sold as surplus. You can't exactly sell a clone that way. And there's no end of contract, either. We're not in the army, we ARE the army, from incept until the day we die. Us older clones, we're beginning to wonder about a lot of things and a lot of the answers aren't adding up. And now, well, there's no Grand Republic like we were originally taught. We're being used in ways that don't exactly fit well with our original training. So, some of us hae decided we want out of the army. Liin will be killed trying to eade capture by me and I will turn in his armor tag. He will cease to exist and no one will eer look for him as RI-8270 ever again.”
”I see. And, because of the security protocol, I assume you will make all this into unshareable data?”
”Yes. You will be able to act on the knowledge you'e gained under the protocol, but you won't be able to communicate with anyone other than myself or Liin what you have learned.”
”Very well. I certainly understand the need for security. Perhaps our paths will cross again, sir. Clear skies and may the Force be with you.”
