Leather popped sharply as gloves slapped against thigh with a metronomic constancy to the rhythm. Boot heels clicked in a slow syncopated counterpoint to the ceaseless movement of the gloves. Long legs covered the short walk down the row like a drill sergeant inspecting the troops before the general showed up. Muddy green eyes flicked here and there, taking in every detail, every ding and dent and scratch in their paint, and firm lips pulled down in a disappointed frown as the boots came to rest and the gloves suddenly stilled. This is it? Lilith thought, shoulders sagging finally at the selection of used astromech droids lined up for her examination. Yeah, she didn’t have a whole lot of extra credits, but was this all she was gonna get for what she could afford? It was pathetic. There wasn’t a reputable looking one in the whole lot. Besides all being at least ten years out of date they were all dinged and dirty with the sort of grimy patina that only developed from years without proper cleaning, the once bright and cheery colors now dull and depressing. The only one that didn’t look downright filthy was a squat black one standing as tall as it possibly could on its two main legs, the dark paint job hiding any dirt and muck. And the dealer had suggested she just ‘pick one.’ How, by the stars, was she going to be able to ‘pick one’ if she hadn’t a clue what any of them could do? That was like ‘picking’ a swoop or a podracer based solely on its paint job, and twice as idiotic. Kicking herself for not having rented a protocol droid to translate their responses for her, the tall pilot made an unhappy face and walked back up along the row, gloves slapping against her thigh again with the snap of leather against leather. The only reason she was standing there on the durasteel walk (the merchant had called it his ‘showfloor’ with the pompousness of the securely smug) was that this was the only place in the entire city where she could get her hands on a used astromech for less than the sale price of her ship itself. Not far behind her the crowds of the market place teemed and flowed with a chaotic busyness that assaulted the unwary eye and had the potential to make one quite dizzy or start the head aching if not prepared for it. For Lilith Demodae it was as at home as she was going to get outside of the safe confines of her freighter. “Fine,” she said to the motley group of just over a dozen droids that posed for inspection on the ‘showfloor.’ “Any of you who are up-to-date, within three years of the latest mods, on hyperdrive repair, roll forward.” Seven responded and obediently dropped their third legs to roll forward toward the blond. The photoreceptors on those left behind dimmed visibly and Lilith didn’t blame them in the least. It frelled not being able to do what you were born to do simply because you weren’t in the right place. “Those of you who haven’t had your sensor packages updated in the last three years roll back,” came the next order. Three of those left rolled back, the last with a notable hesitation. Lilith shook her head. It looked like it had been a while since any of these poor things’d had their memories erased. Not that she advocated it. Droids were programmed to be people too and it wasn’t cool inducing amnesia in your workers every month or so just to keep them happy. Her parents had once owned a nanny droid, but they’d been forced to sell it when money got too tight, despite a five-year-old’s sobbing protests. That droid had more personality than many people Lilith had encountered since. “Anyone with violence inhibitors roll back,” Lilith ordered easily. That was something she’d thought a lot about since coming to the decision that she needed a droid around the ship to help her out. Smuggling was a dangerous game and she needed someone, or something that could back her up when things got rough. Droid or not, if she picked one today the amazon had to know that it would stick by her and lend a hand, or gripper, if it was necessary. Only one rolled back, leaving just three. Moving closer, Lilith looked carefully at the ones that were left. A blue one and green one, with the little black one between them that looked like it had seen much better days. All of them were on the battered side, to be sure, but this one actually looked like someone had worked it over with a heavy-duty ‘spanner. Now that she was a little closer, there were what appeared to be burn marks as well, though she couldn’t tell immediately if they were old weld marks or blaster burns. “Been through the mill, then, have you?” she muttered, patting it absently on its conical head while she thought. There didn’t look like much to choose between them, except degree of battering and color. And she couldn’t think of any other questions to ask them right then. She’d already exhausted her list, not having really expected any of the available cheap droids to meet all her criteria. And just ‘picking’ one from the three that did pass muster went against the grain. She had been deliberate and specific so far, and she firmly intended to finish this job in the exact same way. Frowning to herself, Lilith waved a hand full of grey leather gloves at them. “Stay right where you are, boys, I’ll be back in a few.” With that she wandered off, back into the market place, and disappeared into the crowd. Three photoreceptors followed her progress until the press of beings hurrying about their errands cut her off from view. Then those receptors spun side to side to glance at the competition. Logic circuits began to hum and options, probabilities, and risk-factors were measured and weighed. Who would she choose when she got back? Would she choose any of them at all? Emotion sub-routines were hurriedly checked and censored before a single hint could betray one of them to the others. These droids, the ones that remained, intended to survive as best they could within the parameters of their programming and inhibitors, and to survive meant remaining operational, which necessitated usefulness. That meant being bought. It was a gundark eat gundark galaxy out there and every droid for himself. ******* Lilith returned to find the three little astromechs sitting patiently right where she had left them, a few feet in front of the rest of the ragged bunch. She’d settled herself at a table in a quaint little tapcafe and bought herself a small lunch. While eating she had thought, then she had paid her bill with credit pinching exactness and wandered back out into the market to think some more about what she could ask the three little droids to perhaps weed out the two who wouldn’t suit as well. And now she was back with one last question for the three who were left. Not having had a whole lot of experience with astromechs, the pilot wasn’t certain if any of them would fill this requirement, but being her father’s daughter required that she ask it anyway. “Whoever wants to work on a tramp light freighter that has more bugs and jury-rigs than a bantha has fleas and is likely to be blown out of space by the very next customs patrol it meets go ahead and roll forward.” Her father used to say that honesty was the best policy, and Lilith believed it, for the most part. In response to her blunt question only the squat little black droid rolled forward, though its companions warbled and beeped and wobbled side-to-side in a distressed fashion. It stopped right in front of her and swivelled a jewel bright phototreceptor at her face then chirped inquiringly. “Alright, pal,” the amazon told it, smiling at its enthusiasm, “let’s go.” As she walked away with the droid at her heels, the other two beeped almost angrily after her. Lilith paid out the last of her credits for astromech M1-CK and strode through the rushing tide of buyers and sellers, in a hurry to get back to her ship. She had to get the Scorpion out of the docking bay before she ran up any more fees. The droid followed doggedly along behind her, never glancing back at the fellows he’d left behind. After all, all’s fair in love and war. And what else could you call the fight for survival but war with no holds barred? The droid merchant pocketed his credits and went to shoo the two droids left behind back into the line-up with the others. They didn’t budge other than to wobble excitedly. He shouted and cursed and beat at them. But they didn’t move so much as an inch back toward their places in the line. Even the restraining bolt trigger couldn’t get them to obey his strident commands for movement. The stilted, hobbling nature of their lurching wobbles more than their alarmed and cowed warbling was what finally caught his attention and caused his eyes to follow the line of their nearest legs from their violently rocking shoulders on down to their stationary feet on the metal flooring of his showroom. Both droids were firmly welded into place. Neither one of them was going to be rolling anywhere anytime soon. |
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| Match Made In Heaven By Lilith Demodae |