EotE: Oil, Sweat and Treasure

System JA23, Outer Rim, near Wild Space

The crew of the Astral Queen is on its second day of combing the wreckage of the Trade Federation freighter Bienfaisant in search of a Gonk droid. Not much of the ship remains intact. The port arm and most of the central sphere are intact. The Astral Queen is docked in the hanger and her embarked ARC-170 fighter is providing cover.


Bexley pushes yet another load of OOM droids and assorted droid parts up the cargo ramp and into the hanger hold of the Astral Queen. One of the first hundred off the production line, she had been hard used before Bex and the crew got their hands on her and it showed. Rust was everywhere, what paint there was was badly faded and peeling and there was a persistent smell of oil, flatulence and curry.

Bez dumps the salvage off in the segregated part of the hanger hold and continues up into the ship and up to the bridge. The door slides open and he stomps in.

"We are going to have to break out the scanners Mister Ch'omak. So far we have nothing but cheap droids and empty torches."

Ch'omak ran a narrow, foot-and-a-half long tongue over his array of finely pointed teeth, and passed a hand over his backswept horns.  "Indeed, my metal friend.  Even what little remains of this control ship is too much to search by hand."  Ch'omak hefted his pack and continued, "Come, Petey!  Work we are having to be done."  From behind one of the cargo ramp struts, a dome-topped grey astromech droid wheeled into view, beeping and chirping inquisitively as he came.

"I don't know!" answered Ch'omak.  "If sir wants a particular power droid salvaged, then sir GETS a particular power droid salvaged."  More desultory whistles and tones came from the droid.

"Because," replied Ch'omak with the air of someone explaining a terribly easy math problem to a slow child, "the last people of whom I know that made a conscious decision to oppose the will of sir ended up with their insides making a quick and undesired trip to their outsides."  After a single shrill chirp and a series of clicks from the astromech, Ch'omak concluded, "You just watch yourself!  You're lucky not too many organics can understand you, or you'd be a pinball table by now."  Ch'omak stomped off down the ramp, silently agreeing with Petey in wondering why S-K would have any desire for this particular old-model Gonk droid.  The astromech followed the Devaronian down the ramp to where he halted at the base, tasting the scent of stale machine oil and stale air that's been recirculated 852 times too many.

Ch'omak swung his pack around and pulled the general-purpose scanner out while Petey rotated his head in order to scan in the other direction.  The Devaronian bent over the control panel of the device, adjusting the occasional knob, while the droid merely began to emit an almost-inaudible hum.

Fenda adjusted the straps on her large, hard cased backpack, and checked the charge on her blaster before securing it in the holster on the thick, black belt hugging the shallow curve of her hips. She absently brushed her long, purple bangs out of her face, and then consciously brushed them back over the long, thin pink scar running the length of her jawline. She checked her wish list one more time, going over the various supplies she hoped were still stashed on board this old Separatist heap; she knew she was forgetting something.

“Bacta. How could I forget bacta?” she grumbled, before adding it to the list on the datapad attached to her belt.

"You just watch yourself! You're lucky not too many organics can understand you, or you'd be a pinball table by now." the Devaronian quipped at the grumpy little astromech; Fenda giggled at the reference, and then promptly lost her train of thought. She shook her head and rubbed her thumb and forefinger across the bridge of her nose.

“Right. I'm going to go check the medical bay; see if there's anything left worth more than bantha poodoo. If there was anything good to start with; big Federation freighters like this were manned by droids, you know? Anyways, does anyone care to come along? Kid, you just volunteered.”

The boy, Heinf, glanced up before she finished speaking, and rose from his seated position on the floor. His sunken eyes, yellow irises framed by dark circles, met the gaze of her dark brown eyes as he approached, and she scruffed his shaggy brown hair. He acted like he hated it, but she knew he secretly enjoyed the attention.

“Let's get moving, shall we?” She said as she jogged down the ramp, with Heinf keeping pace behind.

Ch'omak pored over the screen of his scanner, occassionally minutely adjusting one dial or another.  "Mm-hmm," he murmured, "mm-hmm... mm-hmm..."  Finally, his mutterings were interrupted by a short but sharp whistle from the droid at his back.  "I know!" retorted Ch'omak, without turning from the scanner screen.  "I mean, I will... that is, I am."  He looked up from the scanner to where some nondescript tarps were hanging against the far hangar wall, back down to the screen, then back up to the wall.  "Petey!" yelled the Devaronian as if the droid hadn't just admonished him, "go those tarpaulins check out.  I believe..."  Without waiting for Ch'omak to finish, the little droid set off rolling across the hangar floor.  Nonplussed, Ch'omak packed up his scanner, tossed his horns indignantly on the off chance that someone was watching, and strode off to a stack of crates catty-cornered to where the droid was heading.

The little astromech was in the process of pulling down the tarps when Ch'omak reached the boxes.  Grabbing and twisting one of the seals, he heard the satisfying "puff" of an intact hermetic seal opening.  Inside was a jumble of odd oblong and grayish shapes, some with the characteristic telltales of cell-powered machines, all indescribably but definitely disquieting.  "Like to sex toys for Neimoidians," Ch'omak murmured while a shudder ran down his spine.  The next five returned Ch'omak's smile, being filled with neatly stacked, oiled, and eminently saleable E-5 blaster rifles and Precision laser-dart blaster pistols.  Finally, two wardrobe-shaped crates pushed up against the wall opened to display a decent set of emergency rations and humanoid survival gear.

"Petey, you'll have to get this sto-" Ch'omak began, cutting himself off when he saw that the droid had finished uncovering two perfectly folded "Vulture" Trade Federation droid fighters.  A few low-power telltales winked, indicating a perfect low-power "sleep" mode.  Even the little droid rolled backward a bit while emitting an impressed low whistle.  "Yeah, OK," the Devaronian sighed, "we stow that stuff later.  You - get to reprogramming those fighters.  First, we need them to stow themselves aboard the 'Queen, and of course loyalty routines geared to you and I... we'll get in touch with sir and if he wants one, we'll restructure it then.  Otherwise, we'll leave it open for a buyer.  Second, make sure they have basic autonomous utility functions."  Ch'omak squinted a moment, then continued.  "I have to track down a signal source.  I think I have a bead on the droid that is the droid we're looking for... but there seems to be an awful lot of movement around it, but no comms activity.  I'm going to head over - tell Bexley, then follow when you're done with the fighters.  Use caution, full stealth mode.  If I can I will be giving you a situation update.  Otherwise, scan for my position."

A small probe extended from the front of Petey's casing as he rolled toward the first of the fighters; Ch'omak crept quietly toward the the other end of the hangar, melting into the shadows.

***********************************

After a few minutes spent silently working on the first fighter, Petey withdrew his slicing probe and waited for just half a minute to see the indicator lights change from amber to green. The R4 rolled over to the second starfighter just in time to see the first craft lift off the floor and unfold itself into the still compact, yet less cramped, form of the Vulture's flight configuration. A few more moments' work on the second craft produced the same result, and the small ship silently sped out of the hangar to join its crewmate to settle into the hangar pod of the Astral Queen. Petey allowed himself a smug series of chirps before sending a comm to Bexley to alert the larger droid of the arrival of the now-friendly fighters. It was about to relay Ch'omak's message when the Devaronian himself cut in.

"Petey, I have found the power droid for which looking we were. Not to worry about the motion sensor, it was just a flock of mynocks... yes, I know, but they will not be hurting you. You can come to this comm trace to help me with the power droid, but first - well, find that doctor. Here there is something she is needing to see."

“What the?” Thaant grunted as the hangar door opened, startling him awake. He bolted out of his hammock, strung between two support beams, as two Vulture droids sped into the open bay.

“You don't see those much these days. Guess I'll see what I missed.” Thaant scratched his scaly red neck, stretched and yawned as he staggered toward the Astral Queen's bridge.

-----

Fenda grunted as she tried prying the doors open; she'd already tried the console, but the doors wouldn't open more than an inch. She glanced over at the kid; Heinf was staring at the wall, nodding answers to silent questions.

“Kid, do you mind? See if you can open it.” she stepped back, wiping her hands on her orange pants. Heinf stepped forward. Grabbing both sides of the doors, he pushed them apart effortlessly, and headed inside before craning his neck to look back at Fenda. His expression was one of bemusement, as though he couldn't understand why she'd pretend the doors were stuck at all. She shook her head, and passed through the opening... and promptly forgot why she'd come into the room in the first place.

“Why did we come in here?” She was bewildered for a moment, confused by the strange consoles and stacks of containers; the bare metal floors and walls were lit with a jumble of shadows by the flickering overhead lights. The faded smell of disinfectant and the faint metallic odor of old blood filled her nose, and the whine of old machines echoed in her head. Finally, Heinf put a hand on her shoulder.

“You should check the list. See what we need.” he said. His other hand never left the hilt of the lightsaber tucked into his belt. It was the only one she'd ever seen in person, but she remembered the Jedi order, and tales of the Force. She wasn't sure if he was using the Force on her now, but she felt calmer, and cleared her throat before unhooking the datapad from her belt.

“Let's see what we have...” she replied.

As Heinf placed the last stimpack back into its case, Fenda sighed with relief; she used to enjoy the satisfaction of completing inventory, but ever since her 'incident', she frequently lost track of items and quantities, finding the process frustrating and tiresome. The kid was proving to be a great help in this matter, however; he seemed to be very perceptive.

“Lets go over it one more time, and I'll go down the checklist, okay?” she asked. Heinf nodded.

“Two packages of basic medical supplies. One package of antiseptic agents. Five cans of... Neimoidian skin tone synthskin. I guess that might fetch some coin, huh?" Each time Fenda listed an item, Heinf would place it into her backpack. He shrugged at her question.

"One case; twelve stimpacks... hold on." She checked the item code on the bottom of the case; it was due to expire in 4 months. "Well, I guess we can find use of them; I doubt we'd get a decent price for expired stimpacks."

Heinf placed the case under one arm, and motioned to a large tank in one corner; Fenda grunted at it, "About a quarter tank worth of bacta here; I'm excited to have some again. We'll need help to get it to the ship, though."

At this, she drew her commlink from her belt; “Bex, come in. You're gonna love this. Send Thaant to the med bay with a grav sled to pick up 50 liters of bacta.”

“Acknowledged.” the droid responded.

Before she could replace the commlink on her belt, it chimed; now the little astromech was requesting her services.

“It's nice to feel wanted, huh?” she quipped, smiling at Heinf. He smirked sarcastically back at her before heading out.

Bexley acknowledged Petey's transmission with a simple "understood" and turned his attention back to the Queen's tech station. She could be a stubborn old girl and today was no exception, it had taken several minutes to patch the entire crews commlinks together via the ships communications array. So he was still at the panel flipping switches and turning dials when the bridge door opened to admit Thaant.

As the Nikto steps in the bridge a wash of loud static followed by Fenda's voice blares out from the bridge speakers, “Bex, come in. You're gonna love this. Send Thaant to the med bay with a grav sled to pick up 50 liters of bacta.”

The last few words drop in volume as Bex spins the dial to a more appropriate level, allowing him to notice the sound of the bridge door closing and Thaant's presence.

"Acknowledged."

Bexley offers Thaant a nod of respect before filling him in on the fighters Petey had found. "We'll have to stow them before we head to the medical bay. Ch'omak has found the droid we're looking for, so we'll soon be off this heap."

*****************

It doesn't take more then a few minutes to stow and secure the fighters in the hanger, most of the work involved shifting crates around and locking down cargo clamps. Bex fills Thaant in as they work and soon they are at the hanger ramp controls, grav dolly and weapons at hand.

As they go to leave the droid reaches up to the control panel and flicks a switch, hand labelled on a piece of tape is scrawled "SENTINEL."

******************

It doesn't take long to get to the sickbay using the route Heinf and Fenda had taken. Thaant and Bex load the bacta tank on the dolly and start making their way back.

Ch'omak stomped down the hangar deck, theatrically avoiding several inconsequential piles of rubbish.  Petey rolled silently behind him.  As the pair approached the closed doorway of an auxiliary control room, the R4 droid beeped twice, whistled shrilly, and came to a sudden and complete stop.  "What is being wrong with you?" asked Ch'omak.  "It's just right there."

Petey rotated his dome from side to side, squawking and chirping in alarm the whole time.  He finished by retracting his center wheel strut, bringing his body fully upright, and emitting a low and final-sounding buzz.

Ch'omak eyed the flock of mynocks squawking and hanging on the wall in which the door was set.  "Are you still being afraid of those things?" the Devaronian asked in exasperation.  "I told you I won't let them be harming you.  You probably don't even generate enough for them to be interested in you."  The droid expressed one more low buzz.  "Fine," answered Ch'omak, "I will be going to take care of it."  Twitching aside the right lapel of his coat, he drew the blaster pistol hanging at his hip and sighted at the writhing mass of leathery, winged reptilians.  Thumbing the switch under the trigger guard to fire a stun blast, Ch'omak sent a bolt downrange and into one of the flyers hanging on the wall.  The hit mynock flopped twitching to the floor while the rest of the flock rose as one and flew off, squawking, to settle on the wall opposite from the one they just vacated.  "Are you being happy now?" he asked Petey with mock concern.

The droid beeped cheerily and swept past the Devaronian to approach the door.  As Ch'omak caught up he heard a repeated, regular dull thump from inside.  He pressed the release and watched the doors slide open to reveal on old-style gonk droid which appeared to be in the process of walking into the door, backing up, and walking into the door again.  "Well, that is explaining the noise, I guess..."  Petey hummed for a moment, then turned his ocular sensor toward Ch'omak and explained that the power droid's commlink seemed to have failed; without any arms, the droid had no other way to activate the door.  Ch'omak slapped a palm across his forehead and eyes, then looked at the gonk droid and said sarcastically, "Be fearing no more.  Your saviors are here."  In response, the gonk began to emit a rapid series of the low-pitched electronic hoots that were its namesake while attempting to rub against Ch'omak like a pet cat... that happened to be the size and shape of a refrigerator.

Regaining his balance, Ch'omak turned to Petey and instructed him to give the power droid's brain operations a quick once-over to make sure it was intact and capable of following directions.  Stepping back out of the little control room, he holstered his pistol and fished his commlink from a coat pocket.  "Miss Doctor Fenda?" he spoke into the device, "in the process of things I am having stunned one of these mynocks with the little... things... on it.  I am hoping when you have a moment you can make sure there is no risk to the 'Queen... or to us maybe."

Heinf Fenda

Heinf curled over in a ball, his child's voice clogged with vomit as he tried to yell out for Fenda. Only gurgled sobs escaped his throat between flows of fluids and grit. Fenda moved to his side placing a boot to the side of his head forcing his face downwards and hefting him slightly at the waist.

"EYES! EYES IN THE WALLS! I'm seen Fenda, something sees me and its too late to hide." Heinf's high pitched voice cut out and was suddenly replaced with a tone that sounded like two adults speaking over each other...

Male voice "There is something wrong here"
Female echo "There is something wrong here"

Fenda stepped back as the boy lifted himself from the ground, a pile of items laying around his feet. As he stood his lightsaber stripped from his casing and snapped into his hand. Heinf looked over at Fenda, his eyes normal dull yellow burning bright amber as though a star was hidden behind them. Despite the boy's small frame, something about him seemed monstrous and lethal.

Male voice "They should be warned"
Female echo "They should be warned"

As Ch'omak pocketed the commlink, Petey rolled toward the rather loud power droid while extending its slicing probe. The larger droid's hooting became more strident and it backed away as quickly as its relatively short and inflexible legs would carry it. "You have the bedside manner of a robot," Ch'omak remarked. Petey chirped and beeped in quick succession, to which Ch'omak replied, "Er, well, of course. But it is, too!" Ch'omak laid a deep red hand on the power droid's flat top and said calmly, "Do not be worrying, my cubical friend. This droid is also a friend, and he is merely going to make repair your commlink and make sure everything else is up to spec. Okay?" The power droid "gonked" once, and Ch'omak nodded to Petey.

As the astromech found and plugged into a computer-access port on the side of the power droid, Ch'omak studied it from all angles. After a few moments, he began to manipulate several of the power feeds let out from the droid's sides, and finally the seam around its equator. Petey withdrew its probe, extended a couple of tool-tipped arms, and proceeded to work inside a control panel adjacent to the power droid's computer port. "Aha!" Ch'omak exclaimed, producing a small rectangle of opaque plastic, half the size of his palm. "This is for what we are being looking, Petey." He sidled over to slot the card into a port in Petey's dome. At the astromech's inquisitive chirrup, Ch'omak answered, "No! I don't want to know, and neither do you! It's being none of our business, and we are both alive this long for not being nosy in the boss' interests. Anyway, what have you found?"

Petey hummed thoughtfully for a moment as it sealed the power droid's control panel. Then it rotated its dome toward Ch'omak and began to burble and chirp rapid-fire. When it finally stopped, Ch'omak said, "Fine. As long as there are being no other issues" - at this Petey gave an cheery affirmative chirp - "and his commlink is now being fixed. What did you say his name is being?" Petey beeped, buzzed, and whistled in quick sequence; Ch'omak nodded and turned toward the power droid. "Well, Mr. '8T-A2E,' or perhaps," he mused, laying an arm across the droid's flat top, "maybe... 'Tooey' for short?" Tooey honked happily, and Ch'omak went on, "What now for you?"

Tooey twisted slightly on his legs toward Petey and honked twice. Petey, in turn, turned toward Ch'omak and emitted an inquisitive series of whistles. Ch'omak just sighed, brought his commlink up to his mouth, and said, "Bexley? Set another place for dinner. We are another stray picking up." He put the commlink away and said to Petey, "Take him aboard, give him some regular low-level maintenance duty. Then, deliver a scrambled message - the encrypted data, the Vulture, and Mr. Thaant's recent status. Saadoon-Kauldi is very interested in the welfare of freed slaves. And if he's in a generous mood, my precious little Yin Garat would love some of that raava he brews." Petey beeped twice, and Ch'omak retorted, "No! Yin is the Twi'lek! Don't you remember we spent three months on Ryloth? My wife is a proper Devaronian woman, home on Devaron!" Petey let out a low, mournful beep, then turned and headed back toward the 'Queen. Finding himself alone, he turned back toward Tooey and gave two shorter, sharper whistles. Tooey honked once then hurried to follow, his shuffling legs making him look like the galaxy's largest wind-up toy.

Back aboard the Astral Queen, after introducing Tooey to Bexley and Thaant and then sending it off to the hangar to service the Vulture droids, Petey settled himself at the comms panel on the bridge. Using its internal scrambler it sent the scramble code to its boss in orbit of Socorro; followed by the encrypted data Ch'omak had found, the report of the discovery of two droid starfighters and a request for disposition instructions, the fact of Thaant's liberation and asylum aboard the 'Queen, and Ch'omak's request of zsajhira liquor. He also surreptitiously mentioned Ch'omak's instructions to only mention one of the salvaged starfighters, but in a rare moment of concern for one of the "meat-bags" also insisted that Ch'omak seemed to merely intend to use the second one to defend the 'Queen.

Fenda remembered old stories of people “strong with” the Force; she knew Heinf was one of these people, and she knew that his glowing eyes were probably not a good sign. One hand flew to her blaster, drawing it as the other hand grasped the commlink; she whispered, “Bex, we've got trouble. Don't know what sort yet, but you might want to fire up the ship.”

She turned to Heinf, “We need to get to the ship. Watch my back, and follow closely. I don't want to get lost in here...” At this, she looked down the length of the metal-walled corridor, stretching away into darkness, and turned to see its twin branching off in another direction. For a moment, panic began to set in; she was thoroughly lost.

“Right. The map.” she said, wrinkling her brow as she checked her datapad. “This way, kid.”

Bex had started running for the bridge as soon as the kids retching had come over the comm, sending Thaant to the boarding ramp to cover the returning crew members.

"Acknowledged Doc, we are already powering up."

He slipped into the pilots chair and brought the main power online.

"Mains online, engines to idle. Weapons powering up. Someone grab that mynock thing and lets get out of here!"

Ch'omak stood outside the little control room he'd found, pondering the distinct and obvious lack of any comms answer at all for the past few minutes. The droids would no doubt not bother to contact him until there was a logical need, and Petey in particular not until after that, just to be a PITA; but he'd also heard nothing in response to his direct contact to that odd human woman. Probably running somewhere or other with that equally odd young charge of hers. He was certainly intrigued by her hair, colored as it was so closely to the skin tone of his Yin, but she was almost as muddled as the rest of the humans he'd met. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself, "without me they would be having no ship, no jobs, no employer, and who gets left waiting here with unconscious vermin for company?" He nudged with the stunned mynock on the floor with the toe of a boot to emphasize his point to himself when his reverie was interrupted by Bexley's voice over the commlink.

"Mains online, engines to idle. Weapons powering up. Someone grab that mynock thing and lets get out of here!"

"Also just as fantastic," Ch'omak continued sarcastically, scooping up the leathery flier from the floor with a grimace of profound distaste. "Nobody is saying nothing, then I'm the one who has to be hauling it'neh." Raising the commlink, he called as he began to trot toward the 'Queen, "Petey? Have we received instructions?"

(... a half-hour later...)

Having stomped theatrically up into the Astral Queen's hangar and unceremoniously dumped the stunned mynock into the confused but stubbornly intent care of Tooey, Ch'omak now sat at the comms console on the bridge, slowly paling from his usual vivid crimson to an ashen rose color.

"...while you have done well in recovering the parcel intact for me," said a voice through the comms reminiscent of a metal file stuck in a garbage disposal but without the charm, "I had thought you well aware of the fact that I am not a reptile with whom it is wise to trifle."

Ch'omak's throat suddenly reminded him of the Jixuan Desert.  "I would never be- that is, sar Saadoon-Kauldi... you wouldn't be able... I mean, I wouldn't be able... you see, I mean to liquidate the extra fighter, as I am much more easily being able to transfer cash to you rather than a ship with no pilot or hyperdrive.  In fact," Ch'omak continued as his tone brightened a bit and his old drive to push his luck took over, "I was meaning to even reverse our standard arrangement... you know, send you the bulk and keep only the vig... to help defray the keep of our latest crew member.  Surely Petey has informed you of our intent to provide succor to an escaped slave?"

A noise came over the voice link that might have been laughter, a grunt, or a bulkhead failing.  "I hate to think how I'd have to protect my interests were you to be employed by anyone else," Kauldi said.  "I am sending coordinates for your next contact.  You will retrieve a passenger who will give you the details of your next job... which passenger speaks with my authority."

Ch'omak began to pale again at the steel in the tone of voice that transmitted, and remained silent as the data came over the comm.  Finally, the ominous voice spoke once more.  "By the way, I will be happy to have some raava delivered the next time I have freed refugees delivered home to Ryloth.  By the Force, that poor Yin should have something to take her mind off of her acquaintance with you."  The noise that might have been either laughter or catastrophic metal fatigue sounded again, and the commlink ended abruptly.

Ch'omak transferred the coordinate info to the flight engineer station and said, "There is our new destination, Petey.  Plot a course.  Oh, and by the way," the Devaronian continued over an accusatory wagging finger, "you have been talking of things to people that are not being your business to talk about."  Ch'omak's violet eyes narrowed for a moment, then he turned toward the pilot station and called to Bexley, "We are having a new destination and work.  We have a rendezvous to pick up a passenger with details of the assignment, in the Baphomet system."