Oil Bath Bubbles

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope – The Musings of the Modern Yoot.

2012-01-16T10:52:00.000-08:00

With the advent of the 3D re-release of The Phantom Menace looming in the near future, I have taken the opportunity to assist a bunch of lads ranging in age from 13 to 17 who have never seen any of the films in taking their first steps into a larger world.

And for world read galaxy; one that is far, far away.

This is not going to be a blog about the merit of re-releasing the films in 3D, nor is it taking a stance on the OT/PT debate, I am merely going to recount some (not all) of the comments made during and after the film by these ‘saga-newbies’.

I’ve decided to show them the films in ‘flashback’ order so that we don’t have to wait 5 or 6 years to watch the whole lot in 3D – so the order is IV, V, I, II, III, VI – this makes a lot of sense and preserves some of the more exciting reveals (although this is a moot point. Read on…)

Special Edition on DVD.
The film starts: Their eyes glaze over, so I read the crawl for them. “Was it called this when you saw it?” Me: “No. It was just Star Wars.”

The Star Destroyer reveal: Genuine shock and awe from the kids. This never gets old.

Stormtrooper attack: “Are those the bad guys?” “Darth Vader’s going to come in in a minute.” “Stormtroopers are pretty cool.”

3PO and R2 avoid the lasers: “How did they not get shot?” “This is dumb.”

R2 in the canyon: (At Jawas) “Who is that guy?” “Oh, there are more of them.” “They’re pretty scary.” “What do they look like?”

Droid sale: (At 3PO) “He’s pretty dumb.” “Why didn’t they buy R2?”

Twin Sun shot: “Two suns. That’s pretty cool.”

In Luke’s workshop: “Hey, that’s what your one says.” (I have a large R2 D2 that plays Leia’s message upon command).

Tusken attack: “Those guys are freaky.” Genuinely alarmed during attack scene.

Obi-Wan reveal: The kids were actually surprised at Ben’s revelation.

In Ben’s hut: “Lightsabers are pretty cool.”

Entering Mos Eisley: “They’re going to find Han Solo.” Laughter during the ‘spec-ed.’ addition of the droid who hits the little one and the jawas on the ronto. “What’s that (ronto) called?” (I tell them.) “How do you know that?” How indeed…

Cantina scene: Shock and delight at Ben’s arm slicing. “He’s cool!” Laughter “Look, no-one cares.” “17,000? That’s a lot!” (Despite not knowing what currency they were talking about.)

Shoot-out in docking bay: (At Stormtroopers) “They are useless!”

Remote training: “Why is his lightsaber green?”

Onboard the Death Star: General excitement during the rescue. Laughter at mouse-droid.

As Ben deactivates the tractor beam: “They’re going to fight here.” “I hope he doesn’t die.” For the most part, the kids were fairly quiet during this portion of the film.

Trash compactor: “Where did Luke go? That water isn’t deep; it only comes up to their knees! Is he lying down?”

Han chases the troopers: “This is dumb. There’s 10 of them and only one of him.” Lots of laughter at the “Close the blast doors! Open the blast doors, open the blast doors!” scene.

The shaft shoot-out: “Stormtroopers are useless.” I explain how they’re not clones anymore but sub-standard recruits. The kids shrug this off as the desperate excuse that it is.

`Ben and Vader duel: “Vader is Luke’s dad.” (So much for that surprise). I explained how they were old men, so their saber skills were different, a bit slower etc etc. “It’s still cool!” “Where did he go?” I tried to explain that Ben had merged with the Force. “So he can’t come back in another body? That sucks.”

TIE Fighter battle: (as Han blows up the last fighter) “That was a massive explosion. What was on that ship?”

On the 4th moon of Yavin: “This looks like Earth.”

In the hanger: “Why are their ships so bad?” “Why can’t Luke have a better ship?” “(When Han says ‘May the Force be with you.’) You can see he doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t believe in it.”

The Death Star attack: “They’re all going to die.” “(As Wedge leaves) He’s going to get shot.” “Where is Vader going? The Death Star is gone.” “Is Ben in Luke’s head?”

The medal ceremony: “This is the end?”

Post-viewing comments: “That was pretty cool.”“You can tell it’s an old film.”“If they remade it now with better effects it would be awesome.”“In the next one, Darth Vader will tell Luke he is his dad.” Thanks, kid.

Next time - The Empire Strikes Back.

Behind the Fett

2010-01-17T17:52:00.000-08:00

Writing too small?
Get a pair of glasses.
Alternatively, just click on the images for easy to read versions.

You're welcome.

Harrison vs. The Empire!

2009-03-03T10:33:00.001-08:00

Hello again,

Gosh, it's been a long time - sorry for the crafty delay but I have been busy with a new baby boy (Harrison Jaan Baker) and lots of animation work.

Anyhoo - excuses aside - I thought it might be fun to make a little Star Warsy something for Harry to play with, and due to his megalomaniacal nature, figured an Imperial craft would be perfect for his crib.

I wanted to make something without stitching - so this craft involves a popsicle stick, styrofoam ball, card, felt and non-toxic glue.

First, I rammed the stick through the ball. Ramming is fun.

Next, I cut out an appropriate sized piece of gray felt and wrapped it around the ball, gluing it down.

I ringed the front and back of the ball with a thin strip of felt to give it some strength and shape.

And then I glued rolls of felt around the 'arms' before sticking the tiny shapes of the window onto the front of the ball. I like to think there's a tiny felt TIE pilot in there who is now delighted that he can see where he is going.

I cut the hexagonal wing panels out of card and then glued more gray felt to the front and back of them.

And then I glued more black shapes to the wings to give them their distinctive pattern.

Finally, I glued the wings to the 'arms' (or 'struts' if you want to get technical) and there we have it, a finished TIE Fighter, ready for action.

Of course, it lasted for less than 12 parsecs before Harry singlehandly took on the Empire and flattened it.

Note to self: Stitching is good.

Hey, who said crafts were meant to last forever?

Until next time, cheerio!

Laugh it up!

2008-04-05T11:10:00.000-07:00

Hello there, I'm back with another paper (and felt) craft for you to make with smaller children, or just for yourself!

How would you like to be able to send your best friend a Kowakian Monkey Lizard?

This card is based on the old 'peeping chick' card design with the moving beak that I'm sure we all made in school at one time!

There are a couple of tricky bits for younglings, but I am sure that with the guiding hand of their masters, this card should be quite straight-forward.

First of all, you will need a piece of white (or any other color) standard letter size card (I use 65lb card stock which can be printed on). You also need a peice of black card, the same weight, but cut a little smaller so that it is 2/8 inch smaller all the way round.

Next, fold the black card like a greeting card and measure 3 1/2 inches from the bottom of the spine - cut a 1 inch slit and fold the corners back and forth (see below)

Now open the black card and fold the 'mouth' inward - it should look like this.

Next, you need to draw and cut out your Salacious Crumb template - here is mine (along with the beak which you will need later)
Again, feel free to contact me if you want the PDF of this template - sadly I can't link them on this blog.

I drew this template onto paper and cut it out - note that I have left a diamond shape in the middle for his beak.

Next up, draw around the template onto some light brown felt and cut it out. You'll notice I had to do the neck separately - I was using an old felt scrap I found that wasn't quite big enough - thrifty, eh?

Using the beak template, cut the shape out of black card and glue the 'hook' sides together - see below.

Before you go any further, you need to place the black card on top of the white card and figure out how much of the inside of Salacious' mouth you are going to see. Draw a pencil outline of the interior, then draw the tongue, insides and (most importantly for comedy) his uvula.
In the pictures below, you can see my faint pencil outline, then the drawn details and finally the colored version. I used pencil crayons, but you could use anything - how about a piece of pink felt for a tongue?

Now you need to glue the beak onto the top part of the mouth, like so...

... and then glue the black card, complete with beak, onto the white card.

Now you are in the final stages! Hurrah!

Glue the felt Monkey Lizard head onto the black card, making sure the beak fits inside the gap just right (you might want to trim the edges of the felt for a snug fit).

Next, you want to add some eyes.You could use beads or buttons, or even those crazy googly eyes that you can buy - I'm trying to show how you can save money, so I made his eyes out of black card and white paper and glued them on - they look just as groovy I think!

The final touches include drawing on his smile and adding his hair. I went to a dollar store and found a toy monkey that had the perfect fur. The poor monkey sacrificed his tail to help me...

I stuck the fur on top and around his neck to add the finishing flourish.

And here he is!

You could personalise the front of the card to give to someone for a present, or add a quote, or even draw a picture on it - then, when your friend opens the card, they will get a Monkey Lizard surprise!

I hope you enjoy making these - I have a couple more cards based on this design coming soon - they are a little more difficult and ideal for older children.

See you later!

Mark of the Clones

2008-03-31T13:45:00.000-07:00

I have a whole series of interesting paper crafts lined up for you, and thought I would start with a basic one that is easy to do, but looks great.

This would be ideal for younger children to make - it will help build confidence and get them interested in further paper crafts.

Bookmarks are a staple of simple classroom activities, and yet can be personalised enough to be great gifts, and quite frankly, who wouldn't want their books protected by the Grand Army of the Republic?

Firstly, I began by drawing the head and upper torso of a clone trooper. You'll notice that when I inked him in I changed some of the ratios, and only finished one side.

I could then scan this initial drawing and clean it up.

I then cloned (appropriately enough) the one half of the trooper, flipped him over and attached him together, filling in any missing bits.
(All done in Photoshop)

I then erased the features from the front, and drew the back of his head, plus the back plate. This ensured that the outline would be identical.

Next up, I attached the clones to standard bookmark templates, making them 7 inches tall and 2 inches wide.

I then used Photoshop to color in their helmets (although you could color them by hand if you wish).

I printed the bookmarks on thin, 65lb card stock and cut them out carefully. You'll notice I cut them out differently. I used small scissors and a steady hand to carefully cut out the red clone, but smaller children might want to use a simpler cutout shape, as with the blue clone.

Once the two halves were glued together, they looked really good and felt quite sturdy - good for a clone trooper.

And here they are being put to good use.

You might want to further protect your bookmarks with laminating film, and you could also add a personal message or a name to them - the galaxy's the limit!

Have fun!

** Feel free to contact me if you would like a PDF of the clone trooper bookmark templates**

Your Stars from a Galaxy Far, Far Away

2008-03-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

Recent excavations on the Hutt homeworld of Nal Hutta by the prominent Republic archeologists, Grego Resh’Ulte and Mikelaur Senn, have unearthed a set of fascinating manuscripts that were apparently forged several millennia ago by ancient Hutt star-gazers and myth scholars.

Deep in the catacombs beneath the Great Blaggo Library of Bilbousa, a data crystal was recovered and its contents analyzed. According to Dr. Resh’Ulte, they indicate a primitive belief in the fates of sentient creatures being entwined in the movements of celestial bodies.

Thanks to modern decryption and restoration, the ‘gah gahharn’ can be translated into basic as ‘horoscope’ – and furthermore, the investigative team has readjusted the original dates to accommodate our modern calendar.

To determine your sign, pair the sign that encompasses your date of birth with your family standing. For example, a female only child, born on July 18th, would be an Ice Mynock. She could then refer to her reading and fortune. So if a male human, born on September 12th is the oldest child in a sibling group of four, he would be a Plasma Acklay.

Enjoy this whimsical remnant of the ancient Hutts!

Signs (equivalent to)

Jan 1 – Feb 5 – Tauntaun
Feb 6 – Mar 11 – Bantha
Mar 12 – Apr 17 – Colo claw fish
Apr 18 – May 23 – Wamp rat
May 24 – June 28 – Rancor
Jun 29 – Aug 3 – Mynock
Aug 4 – Sept 6 – Wampa
Sept 7 – Oct 13 – Acklay
Oct 14 – Nov 19 – Nerf
Nov 20 – Dec 31 – Krayt dragon

Elements
Female
1st or only child - Crystal
2nd or middle child - Ice
3rd or higher sibling - Silica

Male
1st or only child - Magma
2nd or middle child - Carbonite
3rd or higher sibling - Plasma

Below is a translation from the original Nal Huttese of the meanings behind the signs. Simply combine the two meanings to get an overview of your character and fortune.

Sign Definitions

Sign of the Tauntaun
You are hardy and loyal, able to travel great distances without complaint or fatigue. You like to be aware of your surroundings, and are quick to vocalize any concerns you have to those around you. Although generally a secretive person, it doesn’t take much for you to open up.

Sign of the Bantha
When you enter a room, everyone notices. You are larger than life, amiable and happy to help others. Your good nature takes precedence over everything, including your appearance, but you plod on regardless, single-mindedly pursuing your goals.

Sign of the Colo Claw Fish
Agile and lithe, you like to explore your surroundings in the hope that an unexpected opportunity might arise. When you see such an opportunity you seize it, and make the most of it, but beware of being so engrossed in your endeavors that you fail to spot the ‘bigger fish’.

Sign of the Wamp Rat
Happily independent, you like to socialize with others, but don’t enjoy being exploited by those who would further their own careers off your misfortune. You try to keep a low profile, appearing only to grab at life’s tantalizing scraps as and when they appear.

Sign of the Rancor
On first appearance you might seem to be overly gruff and constantly hungry for more out of life. However, when those close to you get to know you, they will discover a misunderstood person, always ready with outstretched hands, with one companion that cares deeply for you.

Sign of the Mynock
Somewhat of a fly-by-night, you are a highly social person, with a tendency to latch onto friends and possessions with great vigor. You are constantly on the search for new ways to get more energy, and will soar above others as you lay claim to your own domain.

Sign of the Wampa
You are normally a solitary person, easily disarmed by a cutting remark. You regard a good time as when friends unexpectedly drop in for dinner, but you have a short temper for those who hang around, and will soon voice your disdain through your chilly demeanor.

Sign of the Acklay
Standing head and shoulders among your peers, you command much respect. However, be careful that this respect is not born from fear of your reactions to confrontation. People soon discover that you will only take so much prodding before you snap back.

Sign of the Nerf
You are a happy and contented person, always ready to follow the herd in whichever direction they lead you. Individualism is not a high priority for you, but you do have an opinion when it comes daily decisions, preferring to chew things over before leaping to any decisions.

Sign of the Krayt Dragon
You are a powerful and secretive person, allowing your reputation to precede you in matters of daily business. You like to keep to yourself, working quietly and quickly to attain your goals, but if you are crossed, then you show no mercy to your enemies.

Elemental Definitions.

Crystal – The Crystal female is beautiful, yet this fair exterior masks a rigid soul. She is not easily swayed from her punctuality and clarity of vision, but given enough time, constant pressure from external forces could result in fracturing. She must choose her friends carefully.

Ice – The Ice female sparkles in societal gatherings, but takes a long time to warm up to strangers. When warmth is established between the Ice female and her partner, she will stick to her object of affection and can only be moved when the conversation becomes heated.

Silica – The Silica female is always on the move, shifting locations and alliances with each passing whim. She is a carefree spirit, constantly adapting and allowing outside forces to mold her into their desired shapes, but at the same time, if allowed, she will smother her partner in a close relationship.

Magma – The Magma male is a torrent of boiling emotions. He is convinced there can be only one true path to happiness and will tread it relentlessly. He needs to be constantly on the move, or else he becomes stuck in a rut and crusty. In a heated argument he can hold his own with anyone.

Carbonite – The Carbonite male is a true dichotomy. He is extremely protective of his possessions and relationships, and yet will not let anyone into his own psyche. In all matters he stands tall and inflexible, and yet will melt, revealing his inner self, if the right person comes along to push his buttons.

Plasma – The Plasma male is bright and intense in all aspects of his life, yet can be so enthusiastic that he burns himself out too quickly. He can find a way through most obstacles in life, although he usually leaves some scarring which reveals his movements. Although his actions are generally very fast, they are powerful enough to leave a lasting impression.

Enjoy!

Allow me to present, Taun We.

2008-02-27T17:15:00.000-08:00

Imagine my delight when I discovered via Bonnie Burton that I had inspired someone with my Salacious Crumb doll.

Check out the result here!

Following that, I watched the video profile of Bonnie by Craftzine.com (watch it here) and in it she mentioned that she loves receiving crafty gifts.

Well, seeing as she has been kind enough to feature my handiwork on the Official Blog, and knowing that she would be at WonderCon, I decided to make a little something for her.

This won't be my usual step by step guide, as it was rather more spontaneous than usual, but hopefully you'll get an idea of my thought processes (if there are any).

My initial plan was to make a pencil topper, thinking that a Kaminoan was the perfect build for such a thin object. I drew a rough plan.

However, as I started to cut out pieces (approximating again, I'm so naughty), I got carried away, and Taun We developed into into a full-fledged doll.
Here are the pieces before assembly.

Basically, I started with the head and worked my way down, sewing panels together and then to each other, and stuffing the head, neck and upper torso with polyfil.

I made the two legs and attached them, hiding the seams with a belt, and filled them with acrylic beads for weight. I then sewed some joints into her knees.

The detailing was painted on using acrylic paint - black and silver, and by cutting out small details from gray felt.

When Taun We was finished, I made a label to attach to her, and utilized the initial sketch I had made.

And so here is the final cloner!

Bonnie sent me some cool pictures of Taun We, one shows her helping out at the 'You Can Draw Star Wars' panel at WonderCon

and one shows Taun We in a meditative moment. Probably thinking about all the poor clones she has sent out to serve the Republic.

Thanks for dropping by!

Photo credits: Last two - Bonnie Burton, all the rest - me.

Operation: Crumb

2008-01-06T22:34:00.000-08:00

During the holiday period, I thought it would be fun to take my mind off the Ottawa snow with another bout of frantic sewing and stuffing, and this time I used a slightly different source as my inspiration.

For the past six months I have been creating a comic strip based on the Star Wars universe, more specifically Jabba's Palace, and one character has been the driving force of many of my jokes - that character is Salacious B. Crumb.

You can see some of Salacious's misadventures over on the official blog for the comic strip - Turning to the Dork Side.

I began my attempt at a life size Crumb with the usual raid on my local Fabric Land store, and found the perfect light tan velour for his body and some black for his beak and claws. I also found some plain black buttons for his eyes and some crazy orangy-pink fur fabric for his hairy bits. Now I was ready to start!

As always, I approximated the panels and shapes I would need (I don't use much in the way of an exact science) and cut the templates out of plain white paper.

As with the cuddly Yoda I had made previously, I hand-stitched the panels together inside out, then turned the forms the right way out. You might be able to see some extra panels I put in the base of the head and torso to give them more shape.

The ears were then stitched together, and secured to the head with connecting pipe-cleaners - no stuffing because I wanted them to be floppy.

Once I had all the pieces stitched together, I could begin to stuff and assemble them. By this point I had sewn his eyes in, and I was really enjoying the ragged look to the stitching where the fabric had frayed slightly - this gave him a slightly 'scruffier' look!

Here you can see the pieces stuffed and ready to be attached to each other. The finger and toe nails were beyond fiddly, but turned out OK in the end.

Salacious waited patiently while I prepared his fur for his collar, top-knot and tail. He sits really well because I made a bean bag for his belly filled with acrylic beads. Just plant him and run!

And here he is, Salacious B. Crumb, as seen in Turning to the Dork Side.

I hope you have enjoyed my latest romp through the world of decidedly dodgy sewing, please feel free to drop me a line - I'd love to know what you think!

Cheerio!

The Yoda Project

2007-09-16T09:35:00.001-07:00

At the start of the year I designed an alphabet for Oliver, the new little boy of some good friends of mine, and used the little 'blogalot' characters I drew for fellow StarWars.com bloggers to wear on their tee-shirts for Celebration IV and Celebration Europe.

With Oliver's first birthday fast approaching, I wanted to make him something special, and when I heard that he would be dressing as Yoda for Halloween then my decision was easy. I used the little blogalot Yoda as a starting point and started to make a soft toy version.

This cuddly Yoda was going to still retain the 2D qualities of the drawing, but be comfy enough to use as a pillow, so I began by making a template to create the two main halves - no side panels for this sewingly-challenged man!

The material I chose was a very soft, green blanket material which was strong enough to sew and not stretch like felt.

I then embroidered two small eyes, his mouth and his forehead winkles. I guess I should have used thicker thread, but as you will see, I was woefully ill-prepared for this project.

I then sewed the two panels together, leaving a gap on one arm for stuffing. Small, looping stitches did the trick.

When turned inside out (or back to how he should be), Yoda started to take shape, albeit a rather deflated shape.

I used polyfill to stuff him, carefully pushing the filler up into his extremities with a wooden spoon. I didn't over stuff him as I wanted him to retain his comfy pillow status.

"How you get so big, using filler of this kind?"

I used a simple brown cotton fabric to make a jerkin that would be under his cloak. He looks like a street gang member with his sleeveless shirt, but as his arms would be hidden by the cloak, no sleeves was one less kerfuffle to consider. I hemmed the neck line, crumpling it a bit to look like Yoda's, and then held everything in place with a strip of the same material for a belt. I also hemmed the bottom for a cleaner edge.

The outer cloak was made from a groovy, crimped material that gave it a great texture. I cut two arm holes in it, then sewed a couple of cylinders for his sleeves and attached them, cutting them to the desired shape and restitching them at the cuffs to keep them together. I folded the collar under itself, tacking it in place with some unsubtle black cotton dots (See? Totally unprepared. Brown cotton would have been much nicer). To keep the cloak in place I used a strip of the same material for another cheap and cheerful belt.

I used the same material for a hood, cutting a dart out of it and sewing it back together to give it some shape, then sewing it to the back of the collar.

Oliver loves playing with the tags that he gets on his toys, so I used photoshop to create one for his new cuddly Yoda.

And here's the finished Yoda, complete with brown felt 'gimer' stick for chewing on in times of deep thought and meditation.

And here's Oliver at his first birthday party, tired and emotional due to the fact that everyone wanted to take photos of him all night. His mom and dad, Stephanie and Greg, look on as Oliver contemplates the use for a homemade, cuddly Yoda. I'm sure he'll figure something out.

Thank you to Greg and Stephanie for letting me use their picture in this blog, and thanks to you for taking the time to read it! I hope you enjoyed my blow by blow account of one man's clumsy struggles with a soft toy.

Next week, a life-size, cuddly Death Star.

Celebration Reviews

2007-09-03T08:40:00.000-07:00

Celebration Europe

Triumph in the face of Adversity – So Much for British Punctuality

Friday 13th July 2007

From the exterior of the ExCel Centre, a casual visitor would never have guessed that within its walls resided a Star Wars playground for ages 4 to 84. Actually I was a little disappointed when I arrived with my entourage on Thursday to pick up my Hyperspace lanyard, and the décor inside did little to alleviate my fears. A couple of markers and a half-mossed X-Wing – it almost seemed like the organisers were embarrassed to admit what would be happening that weekend. The heat in the hall was stifling, and the volunteers I chatted to told me that they had only just arrived that afternoon, and nobody knew what they were supposed to be doing. I didn’t need the Force to understand the sinking sensation I was feeling. When we asked for our lanyards the checking process seemed a bit complicated for our helper and then, when we heard that the friends and family coupons (as well as the other badges, the programs and the schedule guides) were on a train somewhere, more alarm bells went off. The kind of screeching, booming alarms that you normally only ever hear when two Star Destroyers are about to collide. On the plus side, due to the lack of family coupons, we were all given Hyperspace lanyards, and this would turn out to be a Godsend. I went home that evening with a sense of foreboding gnawing away at my insides.

Friday arrived, and we reached the centre at 7:30 AM – to find ourselves about 200 bodies back in the queue. Costumes started to appear and the presence of gruff, pot-bellied security guards did nothing to quell the palpable excitement brewing in the throng. When we were let in to the ‘holding area’, I was pleasantly surprised to see the giant inflatable Death Star from LA hovering overhead, but the darkness of the room, the black light, lasers and star field were a much better setting, and I began to perk up. A glimpse of a life-size Jabba through the door (different from the LA one) added fuel to my fanboy fire. A brief moment of excitement when a temporary wall collapsed on the opposite line up added to the drama of the moment. Thankfully nobody was hurt and the organisers should thank their lucky stars that this was taking place in England, where folks aren’t yet used to suing at every opportunity.

When the eager crowd was finally let in we went straight to the autograph voucher line, as acquiring Mark Hamill’s siggy was one of our priorities. The line was mercifully short, and we were told to return at 2:00 PM – little did we know we would be entering a world of hurt at that time… That done, we then hightailed it into the exhibition proper, and the first thing to strike me was the amount of space available – there was room to breathe! As I meandered over to the McQuarrie booth, I had a chance to take in the sights; an almost full size AT-AT made a marvellous meeting point in the centre of the hall, a full size snowspeeder sat parked on the carpet, its canopy open for visitors to get behind the harpoon gun, a snowtrooper manned an E-web mounted blaster and murky steam rose from the swamp of Dagobah, where younglings were being invited to take on the dark side. In terms of ambience and ‘Star Warsiness’ they had done a great job. We sat behind the chess table on the deck of the Falcon, pondering whether to have a go at the Tantive IV filming experience, or to try to find the Palitoy exhibition (we did, finally, on the last day).

The artist alley was just that, a narrow tunnel lined with the best illustrators in the galaxy, many familiar faces from C IV and a couple of new ones. I said my hellos to those that knew me, and sized up the prints I coveted – although the conversion bells kept going off in my head as I realised that the print I wanted was double the price in dollars. Trying to snap out of my currency woes I wandered into the seller’s area, which seemed less manic than LA, actually rather polite. I walked past small objects of desire, shielding my eyes from their plastic wondrousness, and breezed around the fan club area admiring the commitment of the organisers, their displays and their big hearts. There would be some happy charities at the end of this event.

By this time the ordinary ones (humans without fan club status) were starting to trickle in, but you wouldn’t know it, there was still plenty of space to run around and visit every booth, frantically scooping up freebies for the boys and girls back in the States. This was no unscrupulous act though, I only grabbed a few extra Hasbro coins, McQuarrie bookmarks and the such, just for my collecting buddies, and they won’t end up being sold! As an aside, that night, the freebie coins were already being sold on eBay for 5 quid…

As my entourage and I swanned around the main floor, we took in the delights of the Lucasarts stand, which was, not surprisingly, touting The Force Unleashed with great gusto. We then descended on the Lego display, oohing and ahhing at the sight of so many little plastic bricks being used in such a fantastic manner. The new Falcon was a sight to behold, and the Mos Eisley docking bay and surrounding area was a great way to show it off. Nearby stood a huge sandcrawler, with a competition to guess the number of bricks used. Judging from the entries on view, the answer is somewhere between four thousand bricks and one and half million bricks.

After the youngest member of our group (seven year old Bruce) received his stormtrooper tattoo, it was off to the giant inflatable obstacle course. This was provided by the Army, and along with the Navy’s climbing wall and display, these were the only two areas that left a bitter taste in my mouth. Ok, so a large event needs sponsors, and I have nothing against the fine men and women who serve our country, but what the hell are two branches of the military doing at a Star Wars celebration? The Royal Navy display showing clone troopers morphing into marines, an apache helicopter on Geonosis and tanks alongside AT-TEs made me really mad.

Next up was Jedi training – on Dagobah! The set that had been built for this event was fantastic, the twisted roots and smoke added to the general ambience, and the volunteer Jedi masters threw themselves into their roles with wild abandon. The Emperor made a scary entrance, then brought out his puppy, Vader, and you could see the kids cringe as he strode into their midst. The new younglings saw off the baddies with ease (helped by a collective force push from the audience) and took their bows – wonderful stuff.

A quick jaunt around the rest of the stands, grabbing freebies and buying long sought after items, and then it was time to join the queue for Mark Hamill. Just to be on the safe side, we returned at 1:30 – to be confronted by a mass of angry and confused punters laying into a bemused security guard, plus an abnormally long queue, which snaked around and out of the autograph hall with no apparent beginning or end. People in this mysterious line (a weekend-long phenomenon) were getting agitated and were also being disowned by the organisers, so tempers were simmering nicely.
Following some aggressive negotiations, my group was finally let into the main line, and we slowly made our way towards the front, catching glimpses of Mark along the way.

Suddenly, the security chaps began forming a couple of new lines, and staggering the people who were sent forward to the table of the Skywalker.
To say this caused a kerfuffle is an understatement, and as shouts were exchanged between the lines, a shaven-headed thug with a neck like a Reek finally boiled over, turning the line into battlefield as he screamed expletives and threats at a guy next to him, both men reddening like angry lobsters and balling their fists ready to bring the quaint old tradition of British hooliganism to a Star Wars celebration. As people stepped out of the line of fire, and we shielded the children with us, a couple of sensible types stepped in between the idiots and calmed the situation down. The irony of all this was that the British Bulldog who was ready to punch several colours of poodoo out of the other chap was holding his beloved Star Wars annual under his arm, a remnant of happier times I guessed. Excitement over, we finally reached Mark, and suddenly all tension was gone. He was extremely friendly, chatty and more than happy to pose for pictures, despite the protestations of his entourage. What a thrill. This was Mark Hamill, hero of the saga that I have loved for 30 years, and now my day was complete. Was it worth 85 quid? Hell, yeah!

As the first day drew to a close, and we all assembled outside for the opening ceremonies, I suddenly realized that I had achieved all of my goals in one fell swoop. I had got my autographs, picked up my McQuarrie prints, bought stuff I didn’t need, shown little Bruce a good time and met up with fellow bloggers and other celebs. Now I could kick back and relax for the next two days, and just soak up the atmosphere without any panicky running around! The opening ceremonies were fun, Steve Sansweet looked a bit windswept, Mark looked like he needed a Guinness, and Ian McDiarmid was a joy to watch as he squirmed under the weight of public speaking and bad puns (what a guy!) As the Tantive IV was boarded and a bunch of Rebels in costume ran across the bottom of the screen, I reflected on a great day, and went home tired but happy. Little did I know what the Dark Side had in store for tomorrow…

Into the Alley of Darth, Strode the Five Thousand.

Saturday

Due to an extraordinarily successful first day, I had no pressing requirements, and I therefore decided I would take it easy on Saturday. However, this idea didn’t stop me from turning up at 7:30 am again – perhaps it was the lure of a breakfast panini that drew me in so early. As I munched on my artery-hardening delight, I got chatting to a chap sitting opposite me doing the very same thing. After some amiable banter I learned that he was Rich from Weston, and he had drawn a caricature of Steve Sansweet that he was hoping to present to him that afternoon. Not only was Rich a nice guy, but he also gave me a copy of the very same drawing – the day had begun well!

My entourage turned up a little while later, with some special guests in tow – my mum, and my seven-year-old nephew, Sean. Mum was there at my behest to see how much cash we could be wallowing in if she hadn’t sold my entire vintage Star Wars collection for £16 when I was at University, and Sean was there because he had rather alarmingly told me that his favourite film was Grease, and I knew he had to restart his training…

Judging by the crowds already forming at the ticket booth, it was going to be a busy day, but we consoled ourselves with the thought that we would at least be able to enjoy an hour inside before the public swamped us – how wrong we were. I suppose the organisers, in their infinite wisdom, thought the line was getting a bit long, and so decided to open the flood gates at 9:30 AM – so much for an hour for the fans. The day then turned into the complete opposite of Friday. Where Friday had been a leisurely frolic through the exhibits, Saturday quickly became a fight for survival and an event only a queue-lover could enjoy. Compounding this was Sean’s sudden revelation that he didn’t want to line up for anything, and right then I knew my nuna was cooked.

Our first stop was at the artist alley. Sean had used Bonnie’s book, You Can Draw Star Wars, to attempt a drawing of Luke Skywalker, and he proudly showed it to Matt Busch. Matt, to his credit, was fantastic, heaping praise upon Sean’s drawing and signing some sketchpads for him – Sean is now enamoured with Matt, and has decided that if he fails to become a football player he would like to be an artist. I was really happy to see all the artists interacting so wonderfully with their fans and the kids, and it was a pleasure to introduce my little group to Joe Corroney, who continues to be a diamond geezer, showering the children with stickers and encouragement.

Next up was the Clone Wars trailer. Although I had been in the first lucky group in LA to see this, I wanted my gang to experience the big screen, 5.1 sound version and so dragged them all in. The little ones got a bit bored during the introduction (but it’s Dave Filoni! How can you be bored??), but when Steve Sansweet introduced the trailer, their mouths hung open in awe. Meanwhile, I got the same tingly, weepy feeling I had in LA, and I have concluded that I am either really excited about the new series, or I am having a mental breakdown.

Hunger and emotions swayed the next decision, and instead to going to see Charlie Ross, we hunkered down to an early lunch. It’s interesting how eating always seems to be the highlight of any small child’s day. After lunch I let my entourage wander off to check out the Vader project, while Kuldip and I went to Rick McCallum’s talk. Rick didn’t disappoint. His banter with Warwick was priceless and he was relaxed and forthcoming about everything, including the Young Indiana Jones DVDs and the web-busting notion of 400 live action episodes (an aside he may live to regret). The measure of the man’s generosity can be evaluated when a couple of the audience members who got to ask him questions did the usual thing that makes everyone groan. The first one was a chap who asked about the writers who would be working on the new TV show, then promptly waved his own spec script around and asked Rick if he would take a look at it. Rick actually said OK, and allowed the guy to bring the script to him – very cool. Then another fan stood up, waving his fan film around and asking how he could get either George or Rick to watch it. Without hesitation, Rick invited him to the stage and took the disk, vowing to watch it later that day. I have reliable sources that tell me that he did indeed take it straight back to the hotel to watch it. That just about sums Rick up – he is truly a man for the fans!

Immediately after Rick’s talk, we wanted to get back in line for the costume pageant, but we were called over by a couple from Austria we had met earlier in the day who were at the head of the line, and we joined them. What a nice couple! Kuldip spotted Warwick waiting for the next show and told me to get him to sign a child’s pass we had picked up that featured Wicket. I grabbed my Star Wars novel (which is filling up nicely) and trotted over to Mr. Davis. When I asked for his autograph on both items he scolded me, saying I being a bit cheeky, but signed them anyway. When I got back in line I told Kuldip she should have asked him, as her Canadian accent and saucy smile would have won him over a lot easier than my cockney bulk.

While seated for the costume pageant, my entourage caught up with us and we settled in for an hour of homemade fun. The costumes were great – ranging from the intricate, to the hysterical, to the downright too cute. Jedi Iain put on a good show (surely the tallest Jedi in the temple), and Warwick had a meltdown as he tried to unscramble the notes he had been given. All in all a fun time was had, and though we didn’t agree with the judges’ decisions, we had a lot of fun. Also my mind was made up – and you will be able to cheer me on when I enter the pageant in LA in 2009. Not telling you what I’m wearing though!

By this time of day, the crowds were starting to thin out and we took the opportunity to peruse the autograph hall and merchandise stands. I introduced Sean to the fine folks on the McQuarrie table, and taught him the fine art of bookmark collecting. We had a great chat with Paul, Athena and Stan who were running the McQuarrie table, and formed some remarkable new friendships (Kuldip and I met Paul and Athena for lunch in Greenwich a week after the event, and I felt like I had known them for years – great company). Saying our goodbyes to them, we then strolled back down the artist alley so that Sean could gaze at Matt once more, and then performed a final sweep of the main hall before saying our goodbyes and going our separate ways.

Had my mission been successful? Had Sean been turned away from the Grease Side, and back to the light? Well, a few days later, I received a call from my sister telling me that Sean had just made his own clone trooper armour completely out of white paper, and rustled around the house all day. Then, a few days later, Sean and I sat down to build a Dagobah diorama for his newly acquired X-wing – so yes, maybe there was hope for the youngling after all…

Evacuate? In our moment of triumph?

Sunday

Once again my pitiful little band arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the ExCel Centre nice and early, ready for a full day’s shopping. Yep – today was the day when the plastic would come out and, ultimately, return to the wallet several hours later, whimpering.

We started with a sweeping tour of the stalls, eyeing several desirables, and hoping they would still be there when we returned at the end of the day ready for some intense bartering – ah, the thrill of the chase. While we waited for the kick off, my lovely wife and I decided to head to the Vader Project.

I had seen many of the designs in previous reports from C IV, but I was delighted to see that they had been added to by a gaggle of insane European artists, and I enjoyed checking them out. The ‘Illustrated Trooper’ was a hoot, and I hope this idea can be repeated for future conventions, perhaps with different characters – I for one would pay money to see a full-size Jabba tattooed by industry professionals! The skills and imagination on display in the Vader Project highlighted one of the key differences between the US and Euro celebrations. It really felt like there was an undercurrent of outlandishness and danger in the European artwork on show, which made it much more interesting. It’s the cultural mix that provides this, and possibly a touch of bias on my part. Hey, nobody said my report was to be impartial…

One of the great mysteries of Celebration Europe was why several rooms were hidden away in a hard to access upper corridor, and it didn’t surprise me that many fans couldn’t find either the fan lounge, the Palitoy display or the collector panels. Thankfully, I found all three on this last day, and went up to check them out.

The Palitoy display was awesome, and brought back many happy memories. The collection was incredibly comprehensive and complete, and I found myself re-reading old adverts that I had read as a child, even feeling a pang of sadness when I saw the ‘design a droid’ competition and remembering how my own design was foolishly ignored by the judges. The toys were in superb condition, many mint in package, and I recalled how I removed the ridiculous lightsabers from Luke, Darth and Ben’s arms, and replaced them with painted cocktail sticks.

I poked my head briefly into the fan lounge, and saw a bunch of fans lounging around, and then we headed to our first (and only) collecting panel – ‘Hilarious Star Wars Collectibles’. During an extremely entertaining lecture, I discovered that a great deal of my favourite items currently sitting on my shelves at home, are considered ‘hilarious’. I guess I am inclined to agree – that’s probably why I bought them in the first place. If you know anything about inappropriate Star Wars collectibles, you’ll understand what I mean when I say I now covet the C-3PO tape dispenser…
The lecture concluded with the almost religious ceremony of the collector coin delivery. It’s nice to get one (for the record, the Polish coin with Vader on it), and it’s also nice to know I have something of value to leave to my children, LOL.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering the grounds, hoping to see the Vader balloon inflate (it didn’t), watching the Rebel Scum photo shoot with Peter Mayhew and chatting with other fans. I was delighted to discover that I had won a prize on the 501st Droid Hunt, and picked up a Spanish PotF Princess Leia figure. I have to say; meeting the various garrisons of the 501st was another highlight. A German Trooper gave my droid hunt badge to me, my badge was then surrendered to a Dutch Trooper, and I helped a French Trooper get his cigarettes out of his gun holster – naughty French Trooper. I mentioned this to one of the UK Storm Troopers, and he told me that if any of the UK Troops were seen smoking or buying stuff, they would be expelled from the garrison – makes you proud to be British! The 501st then went outside for their own photo shoot, and I don’t know about you, but I can never get enough of watching those amazing costumers marching in unison, as precise as real troops. One of my friends was disappointed that they didn’t get a cheer from the crowds, and went to thank the garrisons personally for their hard work during the celebration. I would have gone with her, but I was busy running around the merchandise at this point.

And so this was how the celebration was to end; a last minute dash for bargains and posters. Indeed I did pick up some desirables, and artist’s alley had become a feeding frenzy. Most of the artists there were quite bemused that they still had over two hundred of their two hundred and fifty run prints left, and this was another indicator of the difference between the US and Euro conventions. In Europe, folks don’t really go in for buying prints, in fact one artist told me that he had many people walk by his work and ask him questions about the artist, thinking he was just the seller. I guess the concept of artists selling limited editions of their own work hasn’t really caught on yet. Any way, this benefited shady characters like me, who revelled in the knock down prices and two for one offers, swelling my print collection quite nicely.

Another quick wander around the exterior of the building led to a chance encounter with Bonnie Burton and we had a great little chat about the two conventions. She was tired but happy – a reflection of the way most of us felt!

And so, another celebration came to an end. We said our goodbyes to friends old and new, and took one last look at the emptying events hall as we made our way to the car park. I was a bag of mixed feelings - sadness, joy, exhaustion, and anticipation. The buzz on the air was of the next Celebration in LA, expected to take place in May 2009. The Clone Wars will be running on TV, the live action series will be on the horizon, and my love for Star Wars will be just as robust as always, only next time, I will be dressed in costume.

See you there!

Celebration Four - LA

Fat Man Running – One Fan’s Perspective of Celebration IV

I was ten years old in the summer of 1977, and I was running breathlessly from my Junior School in Romford, Essex, all the way to the Odeon Cinema downtown to see the film that everyone was talking about.
Fast forward 30 years, and I am running breathlessly through the corridors of the LA Staples Convention Center in a futile attempt to get to the Ralph McQuarrie table before the scalpers – to no avail.
I might be older, fatter and balder than that little kid all those years ago, but the excitement is equally exhilarating, an all-consuming wave of giddy joy and anticipation.

Star Wars does this to a person.

Celebration IV was to be my first Star Wars convention, having moved to America in 2005. I was looking forward to it for many reasons, but mostly to relish the opportunity to surround myself with like-minded fans in an environment purely devoted to the films that have shaped my life for three decades.

Waiting in line to get in each day was never a chore. There were always costumed fans walking the lines, stopping for photos and chatting with us, and often it took just one word or phrase to initiate an engaging conversation with the stranger in the ‘Han shot first’ tee shirt behind me. I soon learned to wait a while before getting in line, as it would snake around and beneath an overpass, which would afford us some shade, and prevent me entering the halls looking like an over-boiled Mon Calamari.

Once inside the convention center, I was blown away by the scale of everything; the hanging banners, an enormous inflatable Death Star looming ominously overhead, Vader’s surgical table emanating painful memories of a young man’s transformation. Fellow fans milled about, some looking around in awe, others rushing straight for the buyer’s room.

And what a buyer’s room.

The chaos was at once nerve-wracking and enticing. Everywhere I looked there would be a huge display of merchandise that seemed even more desirable under the glare of the overhead lights. Gentle Giant rubbed shoulders with Sideshow Collectables, who faced Hasbro who jostled for space with Lego who funneled us towards LucasArts, and the list goes on. Everywhere I looked there were nervous collectors joining lines that spiraled around company displays, teasing them with glimpses of the exclusive items that would be sold out before they reached the front of the queue.

Occasionally it was necessary to come up for air, and it was a relief to squeeze out from between the concept figures and glowing Yodas and enter the artists’ alley. More than two dozen artists from all arms of the galaxy spread their creations on their booth tables and pinned them to the walls, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and familiar faces. It was a joy to wander around, checking out the imagination and skills of these folks, chatting to one or two, and buying several prints that simply could not be ignored. Thankfully I was prepared and had the foresight to bring a large poster tube; all those years of dubious leg slapping in the boy scouts finally paid off.

Next to the artwork was the autograph area, filled to the brim with celebrities from all six films; all of them friendly and approachable. I took this opportunity to add more names to my beaten up copy of Star Wars, a first edition that has been with me through thick and thin, and I scored many that I thought I would never get. Curiously, I was most in awe of Julian Glover, and he was the only actor I didn’t call by his first name. I was also particularly stoked to get Paul Blake’s (Greedo) siggy in the book – I have a bit of a thing for Rodian underdogs I guess.
As a side note, how cool is it to get home to an email from Mary Oyaya (Luminara Unduli) thanking me for coming to see her?

That’s what I’m talking about – the feeling of belonging to one, enormous, family.

Next to the central buyers’ hall was the fan activities hall, a quiet oasis of tranquility in comparison to its noisy neighbour. Here I found many fine, fan-run groups peddling their wares and inviting new members. A full-scale x-wing sat front and center; perpetually smothered with eager children and enthusiastically plump adults in orange jumpsuits. The 501st legion patrolled around their own booth, gently recruiting rather than forcibly subscribing, and in the middle of the hall, a giant Forest Moon of Endor diorama slowly took shape as fans young and old built trees complete with huts and walkways. At fifteen-minute intervals, a bunch of tiny speeder bikes would race through the giant paper redwoods, complete with screaming sound effects and Luke shouting at everyone – wonderful stuff!
Every so often, the atmosphere in the hall would be pierced by the sounds of scores of tiny lightsabers as padawan learners squared off against Vader and his troops, while beautifully constructed astromechs navigated a tricky course and stormtroopers fell over each other in the Imperial Olympics.

A trip to the west wing of the center took me to the Celebration Store, and with careful planning I didn’t wait for one second to get in. It was huge, and full of more desirable stuff, some of it selling out on the first day (badges anyone?). It was a bit of a pain when I saw everything I had purchased being sold on the last day at 50% off – but that was a lesson I shall remember for future Celebrations…

There were so many events and panels going on that it was a foregone conclusion that I would miss many of the things I wanted to see, but I did manage to get to many great events, including:

Slave Leia Belly Dancing Lessons – with respect for my fellow man I chose not to get up on stage, but Amira was fabulous and it was an entertaining hour. I was also lucky enough to interview Amira as part of an up and coming documentary I am shooting in the summer called A Place in the Galaxy.

Date with a Princess – Carrie Fisher lit up the stage with her good nature and hysterical anecdotes, what a treat. Later I managed to get several items autographed – hello ebay! (I kid)

A Hour with Jay Laga’aia – Jay is the consummate presenter and entertainer, and he kept us all enthralled with his stories and singing - man, he can belt out a tune with the best of them!

Opening Ceremonies – Free stamps! Cake! Bomb scares! Eardrum popping, rocket pack launched Boba Fett! Steve Sansweet in an ewok costume! Lots of adverts for stuff we already knew about! The lack of any Georges, Ricks or anyone else… meh.

A conversation with Robert Watts, Richard Edlund, Ken Raylston, Ben Burtt, Norman Reynolds and Phil Tippet – These are some of the visionaries that helped create the saga in the first place. Imagine what would have happened if the visual effects had been sub-par, if the sound effects sounded, well, dodgy… Robert Watts stole the show – what a character. Possibly alcohol fueled – but a character all the same.

The Clone Wars – Oh my giddy aunt. I was in the first group to see this preview of the new animated TV show, and they teased us like kittens with a feather on a thread. Dave Filoni is quite possibly the nicest guy I have ever met, and the fact that he is the supervising director of the series gives cause for celebration. Of course, by now you might know that they did indeed show us a giant, high def, thunderously loud preview of the show, and then promptly rewound it and showed it again. What you don’t know is how extraordinary the reception was from the fans. The cheers, the applause, the standing ovations were all well deserved, and I left the auditorium with tears in my eyes. In one fell swoop; Dave, Catherine (the producer) and the crew had shaved thirty years off my life.

One Man Star Wars Trilogy – Charlie Ross is a genius that much is already known, and his show had me rolling around with laughter. What I was not expecting however was the way his final words, “Celebrate the Love”, turned on my waterworks once again… what an emotional day.

As I reflected upon my spontaneous bursts of blubbing, I began to realize how important Star Wars really was to me. Indeed, the first trilogy shaped my early career choices, prompting me to attend art school so that I might emulate Joe Johnston, Harrison Ellenshaw and Ralph McQuarrie. Later, the saga would lead me to a kindred spirit in my beautiful wife, Kuldip, and now I am a filmmaker, nestled in a group of hills just one hour south of Skywalker Ranch.

As the doors finally closed on Celebration IV, and I hugged my new friends goodbye, I was a raging maelstrom of emotions, of sadness, of exhilaration and ultimately, of optimism.

It was then that Kuldip chose to wave a pair of tickets to Celebration Europe in my face. We certainly can’t afford it, the airfare alone will financially cripple us, and I can’t wait to see everyone there…

If you attend, you won’t be able to miss me. I’ll be the overweight guy in the Slave Leia tee shirt, running breathlessly from hall to hall, with the biggest grin in the galaxy on my face.

Building Dagobah

2007-08-10T15:40:00.000-07:00

Having been inspired by the Dagobah set built for the Jedi Training Academy at celebration Europe, my seven year old nephew, Sean, wanted to build something with his favorite uncle, me.

As he had already purchased a Revell x-wing model kit from the event, we thought it would be a good idea to have a go at building a diorama of the swamp planet, a fitting display for his model.

First, Sean had to make the x-wing - not so easy for little fingers, so his uncle helped him.

Next we painted the x-wing to look dirty and muddy, and poked 'moss' into the engine intakes. The moss was from a hobby shop, the type you can buy for building landscapes, and all the paint we used was acrylic as the plastic nature of the paint helped items stick together.

We then picked up a good sized box from the shop across the road and cut it to shape, using the extra pieces of card to form ledges and lake banks.

For the huge-rooted trees of Dagobah, we twisted pipe-cleaners together to form the trunk and roots, and then began to papier mache over them, building them up to the desired thickness.

While we still had bowls of wallpaper paste, we papier mached the rest of the set, forming lumps of the soggy paper into 'rocks' and creating a textured surface.

To paint the trees, Sean first used brown acrylic over their entire surface, then I taught him how to 'dry brush' some other shades of brown over the top to create a bark effect. I then taught him how to 'stipple', and we stippled moss colors over the roots.

I drew some basic outlines of trees and Sean filled them in, this would provide a background which would be partially obscured by the 3D trees. I showed him how to make the shades lighter and bluer, to suggest distance.

Sean then painted the swamp floor in various shades of green and the lake area with a violet gray, floowed by blue. We then stuck cellophane (seran wrap) to the lake to simulate water.

Under careful supervision of his lovely uncle, Sean used a hot glue gun to stick the trees in place. He then learned how to use the glue gun to create cobwebs, which turned out to be a lot of fun!

Using green pipe cleaners, we created ground creepers, twisting them around the trees. We then painted the creepers with darker greens and a touch of brown.

Using the glue gun and a ball of green wool, Sean attached vines to the tops of the trees. This would give the foliage something to hang on to.

We then used the paint to color the moss we had. There were two different types of moss, the spongy, bushy sort and the grassy sort. We used green paint to color them, and then stuck them to the tops of the trees, allowing it all to hang down in a very swamp-like fashion!

And here is Sean looking very pleased with himself. We think his Dagobah diorama looks amazing, and we hope we have inspired you to have a go at making your own, whether you are seven or seventy seven!

Some shots of the finished model.

Thank you - we hope you have enjoyed our report!

Turning to the Dork Side #8

2007-07-31T01:51:00.000-07:00

Turning to the Dork Side

2007-07-16T15:11:00.000-07:00

Turning to the Dork Side #6

2007-07-08T19:54:00.001-07:00

Let's hope this one is more visible...

Turning to the Dork Side #5

2007-07-08T16:20:00.000-07:00

Click to view!

Turning to the Dork Side #4

2007-06-25T10:07:00.000-07:00

Click on the image for a sensible size!

Turning to the Dork Side #3

2007-06-18T09:13:00.000-07:00

CLICK ON IMAGE TO SEE LARGER VERSION!

Dreams of a Golden God

2007-06-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

04.008 – See Threepio in To Shut Down, Perchance to Dream.

Ben gets up and goes to a chest where he rummages around.
As Luke finishes repairing Threepio and starts to fit the restraining bolt back on, Threepio looks at him nervously. Luke thinks about the bolt for a moment then puts it on the table. Ben shuffles up and presents Luke with a short handle with several electronic gadgets attached to it.

BEN: I have something here for you. Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow old Obi-Wan on some damned-fool idealistic crusade like your father did.

THREEPIO: Sir, if you'll not be needing me, I'll close down for awhile.

LUKE: Sure, go ahead.

Threepio shuts down, relieved to rest after the turbulent start to the day. As he drifts into standby mode, he hears the voices of his new master and the old man as they speak of jedi knights, pilots and dark lords.

Suddenly, Threepio finds himself in a dark room. The ground underfoot is soft and billowy and his internal gyroscopes whine in protest as he attempts to stabilize.

THREEPIO: Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in here? I don’t believe the ground is entirely stable…

A sardonic voice echoes through the gloom.

VOICE (O.S.) Professor, professor, professor….

THREEPIO: Oh my, who is that? May I be of assistance?

A light appears before Threepio as a crack opens in the wall. Threepio walks towards it and squeezes through, only to step into space and plummet into the swirling void.

THREEPIO: So many stars…

He holds his arms flat to his sides and discovers that he has the power to navigate his way through the cosmos, twisting left and right as he blazes past glowing, yellow planets and lush, green moons.

THREEPIO: I thought I hated flying, but this is quite…

Suddenly green laser blasts pepper the space around him and several TIE fighters sweep overhead. Threepio reaches out to change direction, and discovers that his arms have been replaced by beams of light, one blue, one red, that cut swathes through the vacuum and make short work of the fighters. As the last fighter explodes, Threepio is knocked sideways and falls a short way to land on a large, flat surface. Around him several medical droids make themselves busy, and he cranes his head to see that his legs are missing. An FX model rolls up with a pair of golden legs in its arms.

THREEPIO: Shut me down! Machines building machines!

A towering, black-clad figure emerges from the end of the bed and takes the legs, spot welding them in place. The figure’s breathing is deep and labored, but when it speaks, it has the high voice of a child.

TOWERING FIGURE: There! Now you can help mom!

The bed tilts back, depositing Threepio into a glaringly white room. In the middle of the room stands a young woman dressed in a shimmering gown. In the distance the sound of two babies wailing drifts in and out, and the woman hangs her head in sorrow. As Threepio reaches out to offer her his hand she flickers and disappears, to be replaced by a young man with blond hair and one black glove. He looks like Master Luke, but a much older version.

OLDER LUKE: Use your magic, Threepio.

Before Threepio can respond, the Older Luke stretches out his gloved hand and pushes him backwards to land on a large wooden throne. The air warps and swirls around him, and he finds himself sitting in the middle of a forest. All around his metal feet are tiny astromechs droids, no taller than his ankles. The droids mill about, beeping and chattering with each other; plotting ways to overthrow the Golden God. Threepio stands and starts to kick the little droids, slamming them into each other and rapidly turning them into scrap.

Eventually he is knee deep in droid parts and as he tries to wade through the metal mire, he suddenly notices the trees growing closer on either side of him, like large wooden walls. A comlink is hanging by a thread just out of his reach, and as he stretches in vain for it, the sounds of screaming echo through the diminishing forest. He then realizes it is his own scream that he hears. Threepio puts his hands to his photoreceptors as the walls advance ever closer, ready for the final crush. But nothing happens. Instead, he hears the sound of mocking laughter in a thousand different languages.

Threepio takes his hands away from his photoreceptors and discovers that he is standing on the central pod of the Galactic Senate building. All around him hundreds of pods swirl away into infinity, each one holding different alien species, and all of them pointing at Threepio and laughing uproariously. Threepio tries to drown out their laughter and looks down at himself to find out what is causing the outburst. It is then that he sees his plating is missing. In alarm he tries frantically to shield his exposed wiring with his hands, but to no avail. He cries out.

THREEPIO: I’m naked!

Fade to black – end of act one.

Love among the Stars

2007-04-18T10:44:00.000-07:00

04.007 – R4-P17 Astromech Droid

From personal data stream memory banks.

442.7 – Look at him. Look at the way he commands everyone’s attention as he strides across the hanger floor. I love what he’s done with his hair, so long and wavy – ah, if I only had fingers….

So it appears that I am to navigate us to the Kamino system. According to my charts there’s nothing there, just a vacuum well, like the hollowness I feel when he is not beside me in his cockpit.

We’re away – preparing to dock with the hyperdrive ring. When I hoped for a ring, this wasn’t what I had in mind exactly. Still, at least we get to watch the stars together.

443.9 – So, there is a planet. It’s very wet here. Nothing like a walk in the rain though… what? Wait with the ship? But I… and there he goes, his wet hair clinging to his broad shoulders, his robe starting to cling to his thighs…

444.2 – It’s been an age! Where is h… ah there he is. What’s that, scramble code five? Old folk’s home? Oh master, all business one moment, and then so boyish the next, I could gaze into those eyes foreve... where was I? Oh yes. Patching through now.

That sounds dangerous! Wouldn’t you rather wait for back up than go and get the bounty hunter alone? Master? Obi Wan?

452.1 – An explosion! I do hope Master Obi-Wan was nowhere near that…

456.2 – Here he is, he looks flustered. What can I do to soothe your nerves, master? Ooh, he’s in a rush! Gently, gently, master Kenobi. Tracking device? Follow who? Who is she?

456.9 – My mistake, it’s that dreadful bounty hunter. To make matters worse we have to navigate these asteroids. You know, now might be a good time to express my true fee…. - - - ! - ! - ! - -
What the hell was that? Seismic charge? Maybe what I have to say can wait.

There’s nothing like being in the hands of a master, see how effortlessly he glides though these obstacles, now he enters the tunnel, thrusting forward with wild abandon! Oh master, how I… what the!? That damn bounty hunter isn’t playing fair. Shake him off. Shake him off!

A missile? This is too much. Weave, master, weave! What was that? Jettison the spare parts? That’s Master Kenobi for you, never did like a girl with too much junk in her trunk.

457.2 – Ooh, we’re so sneaky. You know, I could all evening just rotating on this rock with you.

457.8 – Well, he certainly knows how to show a girl a good time. Blue, wet planet one moment, red and dusty the next – he’s a man of extremes, I love that. Wait here? Again?

459.1 – Well, that didn’t take long. Another patch through to the old folk’s home? I can do that. Look at him, so authoritative in his flowing robes, his manly stance, those piercing blue ey… what’s that? Oh, droidekas. My bad. Guess I wasn’t really paying attention. Where are you taking him? Get off him you brutes!

I do hope he comes back for me…

3 Years later

993.4 – This is how it should be! Soaring in the space above our twinkling home, banking left, banking right, nothing can touch my master. His apprentice has filled out quite nicely, can’t hold a candle to my Obi Wan though! Not sure about the other astromech droid though – there’s something about that R2 unit that freaks me out.

994.2 – Things are heating up! Just the way I like it! What’s that? Buzz droids! Oh no, I’ve seen what they can do to a girl; I’ve just had these diodes polished as well! Ugh – they’re all over us, what do I do?
What’s that R2? Do nothing? They’re not attracted to still droids, only active ones? OK – you seem to know best, but I… AAIIIEEEE, what the? R2, why?Master, I zzzzttt--- I lo zztttssttzz--- I love y…zzzttztztzzttttt……………………………………….

View from the Back.

2007-04-03T15:07:00.000-07:00

04.006 - C-3PO Protocol Droid

From personal data stream memory banks.

7719/3 Vocal: That sounds like an R2 unit in there. I wonder if...

7719/4 Vocal: Hello? How interesting. Oh, my.

7719/5 Vocal: Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I...I didn't mean to intrude. No, no, please don't get up. No!

7719/36 Internal: Spinning... hot suns... this is such a drag... I've been here before. I, I remember a factory, noise, bugs! Ooh! Filthy bugs! Get away! Shoo! Shoo! How perverse... machines making machines! No, no, I'm programmed for etiquette, not... hot, fires, dark in here. Where's Artoo when I need him? What are those? Ugh! Ugnaughts! Worse than Jawas! Oh my.

7719/42 Vocal: Mmmm. Oh, my. Uh, I, uh -- Take this off! I, uh, don't mean to intrude here. I, don't, no, no, no...Please don't get up. No!

7719/43 Internal: Chewbacca?

7719/44 Vocal: Stormtroopers? Here? We're in danger. I must tell the others. Oh, no! I've been shot!

7719/45 Internal: It's dark. Lock the door, Artoo! Where am....

7719/46 Vocal: Oh, yes, that's very good. I like that. Oh! Something's not right because now I can't see. Wait. Wait! Oh, my! what have you done? I'm backwards, you stupid furball. Only an overgrown mophead like you would be stupid enough...

7719/47 Internal: Shutting up, sir...

7719/59 Internal: How ignominious, strung up in a cloth net like a piece of meat. How typical of a wookiee. Hopefully Chewbacca can finish what he has started and we can all go home. I wonder what Artoo is doing right now. He would have put me back together alr... what is this hairy oaf doing? No, not on your back, I want to see where I am going, not where I've been!

7719/62 Vocal: If only you had attached my legs, I wouldn't be in this ridiculous position. Now, remember, Chewbacca, you have a responsibility to me, so don't do anything foolish.

7719/63 Internal: What a lot of noise. Why do I end up in such inhospitable locales? Oh, stormtroopers. Perhaps I should warn the wooki.....

7719/64 Vocal: Oh, no! No, no, no! Stop, Chewbacca, stop...!

7719/65 Internal: So this is how I am to be finished.

7719/66 Vocal: Yes, stop, please! I'm not ready to die.

7719/67 Internal: Thank goodness he still listens to Captain Solo. Hmm. Mistress Leia seems upset by something.

7719/68 Vocal: What...what's going on? Turn around, Chewbacca, I can't see. Oh...they've encased him in carbonite. He should be quite well-protected -- if he survives the freezing process, that is.

7719/69 Internal: I wonder if this was one of those moments Master Luke has warned me about. It might be my duty to state the obvious, but perhaps a tweaking of my optimism circuits might have softened the blow of my statement. Really, the fickle behavior of organics' reactions to situations still bewilders me.

7719/70 Internal: Now what's happening? Oh my. If I could reach up I would shut myself down.

7719/71 Vocal: I knew all along it had to be a mistake.

7719/72 Internal: Now perhaps Chewbacca will work with Master Calrissian and...

7719/73 Vocal: What are you doing? Trust him, trust him!

7719/74 Internal: I'm strapped to the back of a brute! He's saying Han. If you took your paws off Master Calrissian's throat you would be able to understand him.

7719/75 Vocal: It sounds like Han.

7719/76 Internal: Finally, this beast is listening to reason. Ah, there's Master Calrissian. He looks a bit flushed.

7719/77 Vocal: I'm terribly sorry about all this. After all, he's only a Wookiee.

A Trandoshan Tale

2007-03-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

Captain Rekab bounded up the stairs two at a time and slid to a halt outside the semi-circular elevator. Its single, imposing door was flanked by two red-clad Imperial Guards who showed no indication of acknowledging his presence, yet the young captain knew that they could make him disappear in a nanosecond should the Emperor command it.
He paused to adjust his tunic and dabbed at the cold sweat on his brow with his cuff. This was his first private audience with Emperor Palpatine, and Lien Rekab was not relishing this moment. Riding the elevator was even worse. Even though it was going up he felt like he was descending into a pit. After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and Rekab stepped out into the Emperor’s reception room. The air fairly tingled with dread and the young captain swallowed nervously as he approached Palpatine’s throne. The great, obsidian chair slowly spun around and he found himself eye to yellow eye with the self proclaimed ruler of the Empire.
"Report," hissed the old man and Rekab’s hand shook as he lifted the datapad to read from it.
"This is the latest intel. report Sire…. it appears the communiqué we intercepted was accurate, there are indeed increased hostilities between the Wookiees and the Trandoshans."
The Emperor’s eyes lit up at this news, however his voice still dripped with venom.
"Pathetic lifeforms, yet this could prove an amusing distraction from the tiresome search for the Rebel Alliance. What was the catalyst for this new conflict?"
"It appears a Wookiee clan based on Rori has been abducting and mind-wiping Trandoshans with the intention of using them for assassination tools, and although this aggressive act was not officially sanctioned by the supreme council on Kashyyk, many Elders turned a blind eye to this revenge for years of slavery and oppression."
"The Trandoshans served us well, but at a cost, and their loyalty is questionable," ruminated the Emperor, "perhaps it is time for their bloodlust to be sated… and as for the Wookiees, I doubt we shall need them for our new construction already underway at the Kuat Yards."
Sensing he should carry on, Captain Rekab made a pathetic attempt to clear his throat and continued to read.
"Intel suggests a few small skirmishes between the opposing forces could commence soon. They are gathering their forces as I speak."
"Excellent! Excellent!" laughed Palpatine, clasping his hands together and displaying a grisly graveyard of decaying teeth, "Captain Rekab, see what you can do to expedite their mutual demise. Report to Lord Vader with this information."
"As you wish my Lord!" stammered Rekab, backing away with his head bowed.
Never had he been happier to ride in an Imperial elevator, but as he descended further from the Emperor’s room, and closer to the level housing Lord Vader’s quarters, he felt his stomach beginning to knot once more.
This was turning into a most unsettling day.

Tomsk tapped idly at the data-disk on his desk. He had checked and double checked the treasury report and run a thorough background check on the Zabrak supplying him with street lamps. A chromium box sat next to his reading lamp, another freebie from a fellow mayor trying to curry favour with him. He could check it later. All seemed to be in order. It was always in order.
A droplet of saliva dripped from the side of his mouth and splashed onto the desk top. He glanced over at the T-21 hanging on the wall. 'Perhaps just a quick hunt... something to relieve the monotony' he thought to himself. As he began to stand, his comlink suddenly blared into life, the tone of the channel indicator meant it was an emergency transmission and he plugged it into his datapad to read the message.

"Due to continued incidents involving the wookiees of the Clan of the Wroshyr and ..... ...all members are ordered to report to Mos Eisley, Tatooine. The use of force is hereby authorized ... ...gather in the cantina... ...cause excessive damage to a business associate. K’Thorn"

So, the Wroshyr has tipped its hand! Tomsk turned off the comlink and strode into the backroom to retrieve his armour. As he made the final preparations for lockdown of the town he heard a scrape from outside and grabbed the rifle from its wall mounts. Tomsk stepped out into the afternoon haze and saw nothing, though the stench of Wookiee hung in the air.
'They wouldn't dare...' thought Tomsk.
A barely audible click from behind made him snap his head around, in time to see a green light blink off on the surface of the chromium box. Tomsk took one step forward, and then it exploded. The stinging sensation of tiny metal shards piercing his face was rapidly replaced by a brief moment of panic as he was engulfed in a dioxin cloud. He rummaged for the rebreather he had looted from the Geonosian lab, and was still rumaging as he collapsed to the ground and darkness enveloped him.

Kathryn had stayed up late trying to find the right balance between Rancor Bile and Endor Spider poison to make a truly effective toxin but with little success. After a few hours of sleep, she awoke to begin her experiments again. Retribution was quite peaceful in the morning but this did not mean she could be off her guard. To'zar's transmisson over the comlink had unsettled her and she desparately wished to be joining the fun in Mos Eisley.
'I could try out my new disease mixture' she thought as she carefully measured out a teaspoon of Rancor Bile 'Oh, well, such is the life of a combat medic'.
As the poisons began to boil, her sharp ears detected what sounded like a mini explosion. With lightning reflexes, she grabbed her laser rifle as well as some nearby poison ampules for good measure. Then she inched her way outside. The only sounds to greet her now were the chirping of some birds in the brush and the squeek of a durni. Kathryn could also smell the approach of a rainstorm. 'Well, that's a good thing. Ke'jan's plants can get watered'. She smiled, glancing over at the garden. 'Won't K'thorn be pleased'. Shaking her head at the image of the towering Trandoshan growling about her friend's plants made her smile even more and she was just about to chalk up the sound to very little sleep and overworked nerves when her keen nose picked up a smell that was not part of the approaching storm. 'That's the stench of dioxin. I should know since I've been trying to make a batch myself as a Wookie Life Day present to the Wroshyr Clan' Kathryn mused, following her nose to Tomsk's office 'A pretty good mixture too if my nose doesn't deceive me. I detect squill blood and...is that rancor plasma or baz nitch toxin? hmmm..' Outside the mayor's office, she noted his speeder and decided that he must be concocting some poisons for the war. After all, he was a combat medic too. She decided to see if he was at home and then ask him for the recipe. It would make a nice addition to her own collection of poisons. The door slid aside easily at her approach but she found the office empty. There were a few metal fragments on the floor, which she examined closely. Being careful not to touch them, Kathryn noticed that each piece was coated in dioxin. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she quickly extracted a pair of latex medical gloves and a sealed container to pick up a few pieces for closer examination.
'Surely Tomsk won't mind if I check out his handiwork' she thought as she finished putting the fragments into her vacumn sealed box 'He evidently didn't care that much about it to leave this place with these fragments lying around'
With her new treasure safely stowed in her travel pack, Kathryn jogged back to her lab to begin the diagnosis. New poisons always thrilled her and she was particularly excited about this one because of the unique combination of toxins involved.
What she didn't know was that someone was watching her.

Ensabah sat on the floor, looking as if he were making a choice of life or death. In front of him stood a bulky machine, into which he loaded very few of his personal resources and a few spares meds. Here in the shop of his company, Sunny & Ensy Inc, he pondered whether or not to keep the vendor.
"Mos Eisley," he thought with some disgust, "as much as I hate that wasteland of a planet, the wookiees must hate it even more. The sand in their fur, the sun in their eyes. If it means shedding their blood, I'll return there."
Ensabah stood up, punched a few codes into the bulky vendor which had caused him quite a bit of stress in its short lifespan, and watched as the machine collapsed upon itself, just to be swept away by a MSE-9 cleaning droid.
BLEEP BLEEP The datapad in the backroom had a message.
"Playback new messages," he commanded.
"Transmission received: this morning. Sender: Yelena" "Ensy, its me. I'm heading out to Bestine in the morning. Others are gathering tonight, but I am unable to attend. Join me, will ya? I would like you here with me on the flight. If you're gonna be near Coronet tonight perhaps we could meet up and do something..."
A wide smile shot across Ensabah's face. "Looks like I'm headed to Coronet tonight."
Ensabah switched off the lights, and locked the door. Before him stood City Hall. He just had to go in and drop off a report before he could leave.

As Ensabah approached the town hall he noticed Mayor Tomsk's swoop idling outside his office. 'The old man is in.' thought Ensabah and he made a short diversion to pay his respects. The office door slid open, but Tomsk was nowhere to be seen. An acrid smell made Ensabah wince and he noticed tiny shards of metal scattered like confetti about the reception room.
'Strange, he's normally so anal about keeping a clean ship...' pondered Ensabah, 'guess this new Wookiee issue has got him rattled.'
He left the office and made his way over to the hall, suddenly urged on by the thought of what awaited him in Coronet.

Walking alongside Kathryn's poisons lab, Ensabah caught a shine off the horizon. He could tell it was a tracker droid, used mostly by bounty hunters, but also used for long range surviellance. This confirmed his feeling that something was happening.
"Tomsk, you there?" Ensabah quickly asked into his comlink. "Tomsk, you hear me?" No reply. He made a quick change on his comlink.
"K'thorn, this is Ensabah." Still no reply. "Chief K'thorn, where are you?"
This time a beep, followed by a recorded message. With his speeder still here, Tomsk must have left with someone else. In a hurry at that.
"Comlink channel is unavailable at this time. Please try again later."
This meant K'thorn may have been busy with a slave, or on a shuttle midway in its hyperspace trip. Ensabah entered City Hall, keeping his cool. Walking through the central offices, he noticed everything was neat and tidy, like always. Nothing seemed wrong here. He dropped off the report from his satchel and placed it on Tomsk's desk. It was quiet in here. Just a low buzzing noise from the data terminals. Walking back onto the front steps of the hall, a chill ran down his spine. He felt a drop in his snout. Another and another on his shoulders and head. Gazing up into the endless sky of Corellia, he felt very calm. A deep sigh left his lungs. A storm was coming. He could see violent strikes of thunder in the distance. A smile crossed his face again.
"With the storm comes a war! With war comes the vengence of the scorekeeper! The storm will end when it has washed away your blood from the streets!" Ensabah's mighty voice filled the grasslands and echoed off the raindrops falling at an ever increasing rate. Any emotion he may have shown suddenly disappeared from his face. He dropped to his knee in a quick motion and pulled a rifle off his back. Up, aim, trigger. With that a loud blast tore through the rain, half as loud as the bellow from just a moment ago. Not even a second later, an explosion on the horizon put the smile back on Ensabah's face. The droid was gone, giving the Woshyr one last look at the home they had invaded. Ensabah swung the rifle around to his back again, turned away from the hall, and disappeared into the darkness of the night that the storm brought upon the land. This storm wasn't expected to pass by sunrise, but that just fed Ensabah's soul.
With rain comes chaos. War is hell. He liked that.

As Kathryn busied herself with her brews and potions, the fragments she had found in Tomsk's office continued to be analysed. The diagnostic drone she had set to work on the pieces burped and gurgled as it went about its task conducting full spectral studies, composition tests and alloy definitions on the metal shards. Tiny robotic pincers rotated the shards as a rainbow of lasers scoured their surfaces. After a few minutes the analysis was complete. A readout appeared on Kathryn's datapad and 'pinged' to alert its owner. She pulled off her gloves and held the datapad close to read the results. As she scanned the information one word actually made her gasp out loud. 'This can't be right...' she ruminated as she reset the drone to begin another scan. On the datapad, under the heading 'Planet of Origin', a word glowed green. Kamino.

Tomsk blinked and slowly opened his eyes. The brightness of the room made him want to turn his head, but he discovered, to his horror, that he was immobilised. He could hear muffled voices, too distant to ascertain their discussion, and the air smelt the same as the cloud that had rendered him unconscious. He licked his dry lips and tried to scan his surroundings from his prone position.
A single door, no windows, ultra-bright strip lights overhead.
He tried moving his legs and felt metal restraints against his ankles, presumably the same kind of restraints that held his wrists and neck. Tomsk breathed deeply and invoked a regenerative pulse that coursed through his veins and tightened his sinews. At least he could put up a fight once he was released from his bonds…
The door slid open and a rodian entered. It regarded Tomsk with an air of disdain. "You are awake I see."
Tomsk eyed it with hatred. "I will snap your neck," he hissed.
"I think not lizard," replied the rodian and it exited the room, only to return moments later with two more creatures in tow, a zabrak and a wookiee. Tomsk snarled and tried to raise enough phlegm to spit at the wookiee, but his throat was too dry.
"Be still," said the zabrak in a soft voice dripping with malice, "or we shall flood this room once again with dioxin." The wookiee pressed a barely visible panel in the grey wall and half of the strip lights dimmed and parted. Then a flat screen lowered down from the ceiling, hovering to within two meters of Tomsk’s face.
"We bring relief from your boredom," muttered the zabrak, "something to watch." With that the trio left the room, the rodian chuckling as he went. Tomsk turned his attention to the screen as it blossomed into life. The picture was a bird’s eye view of some buildings. The arrangement was familiar to him. Retribution! He could see small figures walking around the structures, one looked like Xaviere, another like K’thorn. As the image pulled back he could see a couple of other figures laying prone on the closest hill-top. Wookiees. The wookiees slowly edged forward, and Tomsk watched helplessly as his beloved town was attacked…

"Kamino?" Kathryn murmured, trying to remember anything she could about this elusive planet. Images of silver oceans and long necked aliens played in the back of her mind as well as a dull sense of pain but nothing more. There could only be one reason why that name triggered all sorts of images and emotions. She had been there. But how? Dropping the datapad next to her unfinished experiments, she pulled a chair over to her computer terminal and accessed the galaxy map she had stolen from an unsuspecting spice smuggler. The holo had been a real find. Not only did it project the planets and stars of both the Inner Core and Outer Rim as an interactive, touch sensitive hologram but it also contained a sizable index of useful information on each world as well as a few not often found on the usual star charts, perfect for smuggling outposts. 'Ahhhh here we are' thought Kathryn as she touched a silver sphere and a clinical female voice began to speak. "Kamino. A planet of tumultuous oceans and endless storms. Few features mark its surface, save for massive stilt-mounted cities wherein reside the planet's natural inhabitants, the Kaminoans. From Tipoca City, the planet's Prime Minister rules and closely monitors the operations of Kamino's most prized export: clones. Though few are privy to such knowledge, the Kaminoans are reputed to be the best cloners in the galaxy...." The emotionless voice continued but Kathryn heard nothing more as her mind zeroed in on the one key word: clones!. That was it! That's how she knew about this place! Being a clone herself, Kathryn had begun life in a hidden Imperial cloning facility on Endor but that had been when she was 21. The scientists had told her that her memories of the past had been wiped before they awakened her at the base Clearly the mind wipe had not been thoroughly done if only a few years later a few key words unlocked a few of these lost memories. Nevertheless, there was only one thing to be done. 'I'm going to Kamino. If just a few minor references to the planet can jog a few images, imagine what a full blown immersion of the senses in the world itself could do. At any rate, there is some payback in order for what they did to me'. And with that thought in mind, she packed her most lethal poisons and deadly diseases alongside two laser rifles and a republic blaster. Just as she had strapped the pack on, the front door to her lab exploded in a shower of deadly metal shrapnel from a proton grenade and a towering fur covered giant charged in. Still coughing on the smoke from the grenade, Kathryn reached for the weapons in her backpack only to be stopped by her assailant with his bowcaster aimed at her head. "I wouldn't try that, little human. I might have to kill you," the wookiee growled, yanking her off the floor. "Not that I'm promising that I'll let you live. It all depends on how useful you are to me"'I'm never going to get this stench out of my clothing' Kathryn thought, wrinkling her nose as she let the wookiee drag her across the floor. The combined smell of sweat and unwashed fur was overwhelming but she managed to keep her wits about her as they approached the front door. After all, animals are known for their brute strength and not their intelligence. It would be child's play to lull this wallking furball into a false sense of security. Now all she needed was an opportunity..... The doors to her lab opened at their approach and for the first time she could hear the sounds of gunfire, cries of victory, and screams of pain. It seemed the wookiees were losing if her sharp ears did not deceive her because the screams appeared to be wookiee in origin while the warcries were accentuated by a distinct hissing sound. Her own captor was suddenly nervous and glanced anxiously around the deserted streets. Suddenly the sounds stopped and an eerie silence crept over the town. 'C'mon, guys, I know you're out there. Just give me a chance to turn the tables on this walking flea bag' Kathryn said to herself, straining to hear the slightest sound that would mean her friends were close by. As if in answer to her silent prayer, K'Thorn and Xaviere came strolling up the street covered in blood and laden down with wookiee pelts. The two warriors took in the situation a moment after the wookiee wrapped his furry arm around her neck and lifted the bowcaster to her head. K'Thorn smiled as he pulled out his own weapon for one more kill while Xaviere quickly followed his example. The two Trandoshans then calmly walked up to the house and gave the wookie a once over.
"Let the human go and you'll die quickly, wook," K'Thorn announced without emotion while he casually adjusted the setting on his rifle. "You can join your brothers who went before you."
"I think you have failed to take in the situation here, lizard. I hold the upper hand. One false move and your precious human dies. I hope she is a valuable slave so you will think twice." "She's human and expendable. I can find more like her. Do what you will," K'Thorn replied, shrugging while at the same time catching Kathryn's eye. She blinked twice to communicate that she understood his plan.
"You're just bluffing. Everyone knows-" the wookiee began to say but was cut off by the sound of a charged bolt making contact with the small body he was holding. The surprised animal looked down and saw red blood spill all over Kathryn's hands as she tried to stop the bleeding coming from the wound in her chest.
"K'Thorn..." she whispered in surprise before collapsing on the ground. Her former captor just stared at her dead body and then at her murderer.
"I don't negotiate," K'Thorn replied with a cruel smile and shot the wookiee three times before he could react to this turn of events. While Xaviere began to skin the latest kill, the tall Trandoshan's attention quickly turned to the human woman who was now getting slowly to her feet.
"Thanks for aiming high, K'Thorn. You KNOW the chestplate bruises me more when you hit high than when you hit low," the angry combat medic infomed him, the sarcasm and irritation clear in her voice.
"I know. What makes you think I didn't aim that way on purpose?" was his quick reply followed by a sly flash of teeth. Kathryn shook her head while the beginnings of an amused smile pulled at her lips. She was just about to go back into her lab for a thorough shower and change of clothes when she spotted a datapad peeking out of the wookiee's bulky belt. Wondering if it had the location of their hideout or other sensitive information, the young woman carefully extracted it from the corpse and activated the viewscreen. Within moments, the datapad revealed the travel plans of the wookiee assault team including the security codes for the shuttle they had used to travel to Corellia. 'Just what I need: a ticket out of here' she thought, quickly pocketing the device. K'Thorn inquired after the contents but she merely showed him the travel plans on the pad while carefully leaving out the location of the shuttle. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
"I'm going to wash this red dye off before it stains my best traveling suit permanently. Securing a few ampules in my watch comes in handy with situations like this," she remarked, glancing at the wookiee corpse that was now stripped of its pelt. "He should have listened. The Dosha Cartel NEVER negotiates."
"They never listen. It's impossible getting through that thick skull of theirs."
"Of course, you're right, K'Thorn, but one can always hope..."
"Bah! Hope is for weaklings"
"We shall see, we shall see," Kathryn murmured, thinking of her own hopes of finding information on her mysterious past by traveling to Kamino. After taking a shower, changing clothes and applying a little bacta, she felt almost as good as new. It was long past time for her to continue her quest for answers on Kamino and the first step on that quest would be procuring the wookie shuttle for her own purposes. Sometimes fate had a way of making a precarious situation turn out just right.

Captain Rekab wiped the palms of his hands down the front of his grey dress pants. Why did he sweat so when he came to this place? The elevator came to a gentle stop and the door swung around to reveal a sterile room, the silver and slate of the furnishings swallowing all colour and any hope. In the middle of the room, seated at one end of a great table, General Veers gazed thoughtfully at a small data pad - his hard face tinged violet from the soft blue light of the readout.
"Report." he issued, without looking up at the nervous Captain.
Rekab stepped forward and placed his own data pad on the table. "You requested an update sir."
"And?" snapped Veers, his face still angled down, "am I to read your report from here?"
"Sorry sir!" stammered Rekab and he hurriedly scooped up the pad before trotting down to the far end and standing to attention next to the General. Veers gently took the pad from Rekab’s outstretched hand and lethargically brought it before his face.
"Interesting… this information is accurate?"
"To within the last hour sir."
General Veers placed the pad on the table next to his own and finally looked up into the face of the young Captain. He seemed to be sizing him up for a second, his piercing eyes burrowing into Rekab’s very soul. Lien Rekab felt a chill (of respect or fear?) clasp at the back of his neck, then the General spoke again.
"This is good intel. Captain. The opposing clans have no idea of our involvement?"
"No sir. Our snipers were undetected during the Wookiee attack on the Trandoshan town of Retribution. We made several significant kills, especially on the lizards, and pulled out without a hitch. Our spaceport operatives have also been able to deliver information to the Dosha Cartel regarding the Wookiees’ movements without their knowledge. They believe they are using regular informants."
Veers’ face appeared to soften slightly. "Excellent, the Emperor will be most pleased with the progress you are making. Perhaps you should now redouble your efforts, see if you can’t bring about the end of both of these parties. Then we can send a message to other clans who are getting ideas above their stations, remind them who is really in charge of the galaxy!"
"Yes sir, thank you sir!" blurted Captain Rekab, snapping his heels as he saluted the General.
A mere three seconds passed before Veers uttered "You still here Captain?"
Once again, Lien Rekab was happy to return to the sanctuary of the elevator.

It had been several hours since the viewing screen had been lowered to show Tomsk the events unfolding between the cartel and the Wroshyr. Tomsk took this to mean one of two things. Either their holo-cam droids were not working, or the Cartel were winning. He opted for the latter and consoled himself with the thought that his brothers were giving the wookiees the punishment they so richly deserved. The door slid open and his trio of tormentors entered, this time shadowed by two new figures, both shrouded in heavy cloaks. The rodian punched a sampler into his neck and extracted some tissue from between Tomsk's scales.
"Not taken enough?" Tomsk hissed. The rodian ignored him and handed the tube of meat to one of the cloaked figures. As it reached out to take the tube Tomsk caught a glimpse of green skin and claws.
"Traitorous Sithspawn!" he spat as the figure left the room. The wookiee laughed at Tomsk and stepped aside as the other figure walked closer. The unmistakable snout of a trandoshan peeked from the heavy cloth as it regarded Tomsk's prone form, then it quickly turned and left as the zabrak approached the table, cradling a stun baton menacingly.
"Make him scream," said the rodian.
Tomsk fixed the zabrak with a hard stare as his torturer went to work...

According to his internal clock two days had passed. The plasma screen had not descended for either day. Tomsk knew that his tormentors would have repaired any problem to their cameras in a nanosec, so the reason for the lack of pictures must be the dominence of the Cartel. He afforded himself a smile, then turned back to the matter at hand. His body was already a mass of bruises and dried blood, multiple signatures of the zabrak, so some fresh damage would not be noticed. He continued to twist his left hand, feeling the skin break, feeling bones pop out and sinews snap. After several hours of this self abuse he could now sense that the claw was malleable enough to slip through the restraining clamp. He tried it and it oozed through with ease.
A soft click.
Tomsk replaced his hand, just as the door slid open and his abductors entered. The shrouded figures were once again present with the original unholy trio, and now a sixth being entered, stooping low to get through the door frame. Tomsk had never seen a Kaminoan before, and in his present state he didn’t really care either. The cloaked figures held back as the willowy cloner and the rodian approached the table. The wookiee and the zabrak observed with an air of impatience, chomping at the bit, ready to resume Tomsk’s torture.
The rodian ushered forward the Kaminoan. "See Mee Krob? He’s not dead, just softened up a little."
"You must prevent any further deep tissue damage," replied the tall creature in a voice like melting bantha butter, "my experiments require unblemished specimens."
"I’ll try to hold ‘em back," grinned the rodian, glancing back at his colleagues, "but they get so enthusiastic."
One of the cloaked figures now spoke up. "Is he conscious?"
The rodian looked back at Tomsk. "Yeah - he’s listening to all of this…"
Tomsk eased open one swollen eyelid and watched the cloaked figure approach the table. It reached up and pulled back its hood, revealing a grizzled and deeply scarred Trandoshan face. He bent closer and hissed, "You know my face?"
Tomsk gave a slight nod and croaked, "Yes. Drassk’Or. Supreme General of the Slaver Wars… you served my father…"
"He still does." This voice came from the other figure. It stepped forward and removed its hood. Tomsk craned his head as far up as he could, and his gaze fell upon the stone hard face of Trendo Hssss. The old lizard spoke slowly, his voice dripping with venom. "It’s been a long time son."

A day had passed since Tomsk’s father had revealed his identity, and since that moment he had not returned. The wookiee and zabrak were more than happy though to continue his torture, using stun batons and plasma needles to inflict as much pain as possible but never to the point of unconsciousness. Now he was alone once again. Having wriggled his mangled left hand free he now tentatively probed his right. He felt for the points that he would have to dislocate in order to free his favoured claw. Next he probed the restraining strap crossing his brow and realized it would take more than a claw to cut through the plasti-weave material, likewise the straps over his thighs and shins. The silence in the room was overwhelming, but worked to his advantage, as he could hear the hiss of an external blast door that would herald the click of his prison door. When he heard the initial hiss he knew he had seven seconds to prepare for his tormentors. Tomsk drew his hand to his mouth and reached inside with two twisted digits. Taking a firm grasp of the longest of his rear fangs, Tomsk snapped it off at the root and palmed it quickly, swallowing the brief gush of blood that filled his throat. Suddenly he heard the tell tale hiss of the blast door and counted down in his head as he struggled to squeeze his claw back under the restraint. The point of his broken fang pierced the flesh of his palm as the door opened and his father entered. Trendo was followed by the General, who carried a tall, white chair, placing it next to Tomsk’s table. Then he returned to the doorway and stood in front of it, arms crossed, blocking the exit with his imposing frame. Trendo unclasped his cloak and folded it over the back of the chair before sitting down and staring at his battered son.
"Open your eyes."
Tomsk obliged and looked directly up at the barren ceiling. Trendo leaned forward. "I’m sure you have more than a few questions Tomsk," he hissed, "and now is the time for answers…."

"General Drassk is possibly the last true survivor of the Slaver Wars and, as you know, he is a highly regarded veteran of the last great Techno War with the wookiees." Trendo afforded a brief glance at his trusted companion and Drassk’Or returned the look with a respectful nod.
"He has stood by the Hsss family for many decades, and it was he who instigated my resurrection."
"It was for the good of the family…" rumbled the grizzled war horse in the corner.
Trendo continued. "Of course, cloning from such an old DNA matrix is considered highly irregular, not to mention illegal on all but the most progressive of planets, but after my initial anger I could understand his reasoning." Tomsk’s father stood and stretched, flexing his formidable frame and baring his razor sharp fangs.
"These Kaminoans may be the best cloners in the galaxy, but they can’t make furniture for sithspit," he grumbled, before perching himself once again on the edge of the chair. He leaned even closer, so close that Tomsk could feel his spittle flecking his face as he spoke. "What do I find upon my return? Trandosha is now run by bureaucrats, not hunters. The Trandoshan race has gone soft! Once mighty warriors who lived only for the kill are now merchants, wondering where their next shipment of Quarren Weave silk is coming from, or doctors healing all who beg for help, even the sub-species such as humans and bothans… even wookiees! They have become businessmen, worried less about Jagganath points than their bank accounts, I have even been shown dancers - dancers! May the Scorekeeper devour their souls!" Trendo became more and more agitated as he spoke and Tomsk prepared for the lashing out that would inevitably follow. "On top of this I have to read about the Hsss family name being dragged through the mud! We were a noble family, now we command no respect! My own son, my heir, is so weak that he is captured by wookiees and forced to betray his own kind. You were given a second chance, did you restore honour to our family? NO! You became a pathetic pen pusher, a politician, the lowest form of life, a laughing stock on Dosha!" Trendo stood and kicked back the chair, sending it crashing into the wall behind him. "Well no more! I cannot stand by and watch this happen… I do see one ray of hope however. This cartel that you are connected to, they are strong, some of them retain the old ways, the hunger. With a Hsss leading them and my guidance, the Dosha could once again become the feared warriors we were! That is why To’zar Roksun shall be removed, and you shall lead them in his place."
Tomsk snapped his head to the left, chaffing against the strap, to stare at his father. "But, I cannot kill the Don," he croaked, "K’thorn, Crotalus, the others would never allow this to happen. They would never accept my leadership…"
"You will not be doing the killing, and any who oppose you will be silence, you can be assured of that…"
"But how can I be expected to take over?"
Trendo smiled wickedly. "It will not be you, exactly, who takes command…" With that he he motioned to the General who stepped to one side as a new, huge figure entered the room. Tomsk gasped. He was looking at himself.
This new Tomsk was taller, more muscular than Tomsk remembered himself to be, and wore a freshly skinned wookiee pelt loosely about his shoulders. Tomsk recognized the markings of his torturer. Trendo stepped towards the new Trandoshan and placed a claw on his shoulder. He then turned back to Tomsk. "Meet the new Tomsk Hsss, soon to be leader of the Dosha Cartel, a perfectly blended clone of you, General Drassk and myself, ruthless beyond measure and stronger than any Trandoshan you have ever known, our cloner friends have seen to that…" Tomsk stared in disbelief as he watched himself fling the pelt to the ground and lick the blood from his claws.
The new clone gave Tomsk a disgusted look. "Time for this one to die now…" he hissed.

"Darn navigation system!"Kathryn yelled, hitting the finicky old console for the upteenth time. "I should have known that a wookiee wouldn't know a good spacecraft if it landed on their head." The 'transport', if you could call it that, had seen better days. She had found its location quite easily thanks to the datapad she took from the Wroshyr assault team member. Its former owners had tried to hide the ancient vessel beneath a few tree branches but the hasty attempt at cover only served in making it stand out. After a quick systems check and an examination of the many dents and scars running along the sides, she decided that it would have to do. The shuttle itself was the size of a small Corellian house with only two compartments: a bridge and a storage bay. It was clearly meant for quick trips between planets since there was no attempt to hide the guts of the ship behind sleek paneling or add more luxuries such as bunks or tables. Kathryn jdecided to name her new vessel Fortune Hunter while praying it would make it all the way to Kamino. Otherwise, it would end up being a very short trip.
After breaking orbit and engaging the hyperdrive, she began to have second thoughts. Once at lightspeed, the entire vessel started to shake and Kathryn could swear she heard the bolts of the ship starting to come apart from the added pressure. What made things worse was the occasional groan as Fortune Hunter hit the occasional piece of space debris.
'Remind me not to borrow any vessels from wookiees again' she thought, shifting in her hard pilot's seat to squint at the radar. The readings had frozen again so she gave it a good hit with her fist before deciding that she was close enough to come out of hyperspace. Taking a deep breath and sending one last prayer to the Scorekeeper, Kathryn gently eased the old vessel down to a lower speed. Despite her careful efforts, Fortune Hunter moaned, groaned and protested like an old nag until she came to a complete stop above a world covered in silver water.
"Kamino" She breathed out loud, the images of before returning more vividly.
"This is where I'll find my answers." And with these happy thoughts to guide her, Kathryn started making her descent to the welcoming planet below. It didn't take long to find the newly up and running capital city and after receiving permission to land, she settled the tired old starship down in a quiet, secluded docking area. After a quick onceover, Kathryn secured the vessel and quickly made her way through the pouring rain to the beckoning silver tower beyond. 'At least I don't have to worry about theft' she chuckled, thinking no one would want such a piece of space junk. With any luck, no one had noted her arrival since her vessel was far from impressive. However, luck was not on her side at this time. Someone HAD seen her arrival and hurried to report this new development to Trendo Hsss and General Drassk.

His father’s words still rang in his ears as Tomsk lay on the interrogation table. A message on Trendo’s comlink had disturbed the moment and for some reason Trendo had not allowed the new clone to touch him, instead the two of them had left, followed by General Drassk’Or. The light had been turned off and now Tomsk strained to listen for any sign of outside activity. A few moments ago he had heard the sound of several pairs of feet running past his cell door, but now all was silent. He worked the fang around in his palm and pulled his claw through the restraining strap. Slowly he then began to saw at the strap on his right wrist, using the serrated edge of his broken tooth. He felt the strap weaken and realized he could pull his other claw free, when suddenly the hiss of the blast door made him snap to attention. He almost dropped the tooth, such was his focus on the task at hand. He replaced his left claw on top of the strap, hoping whoever came in would not notice through the dried blood that it was free. The door slid open and the lights glared as the rodian and zabrak entered. The zabrak seemed immensely agitated and paced by the door, slapping his stun baton in his palm, as the rodian approached the table. The rodian drew a snub-nosed pistol from his pocket and leveled it at Tomsk’s head.
"Your dad sent me in to do his dirty work, calls himself a warrior…"
"Last words…" whispered Tomsk.
"What?" replied the rodian stepping closer.
"Last words…" repeated Tomsk in an even more hushed tone.
"What in the name of gundark’s gizzards are you sayin’?" yelled the rodian bending down and swiveling his antenna in Tomsk’s face.
Tomsk smiled. "They were your last words, bug!" As he spat out the words , Tomsk flung his left arm up, driving the tooth into the rodian’s left eye. The rodian screamed and tried to pull back but Tomsk already had his gun hand and wrestled the pistol out, flipping it around and stuffing it into the rodian’s snout. The zabrak leapt forward as a crimson flame burst from the back of the rodian’s head, forcing the creature back into his path. The zabrak barely had time to activate the baton before Tomsk had drilled a hole through his throat. As the zabrak fell gurgling to the floor Tomsk lifted his right claw as far as he could and shot at the base of the strap. It disintegrated with minimal burns to his wrist, not that he would have felt them anyway. With both hands free he could now work on the strap across his head and soon it too was undone. Moments later his legs were free and Tomsk jumped down from the table, only to collapse to his knees. Summoning all he could from his beaten body he slowly stood and stooped to take the stun baton from the dead zabrak’s hand. He limped to the door and listened intently. Silence. Tomsk turned back and bit off the zabrak’s hand at the wrist, then pressed it against the operation panel. It slid open and Tomsk chewed off and swallowed the fleshy part of the palm before tossing the limb back into the room and staggering to the blast door. Readying the pistol he opened the door and found himself in a startlingly white corridor. Huge oval windows stretched down either side of it and he could see a maze of glass walled rooms to his left. To his right the windows looked out into a vista of storm lashed platforms and rampaging waves as high as city hall. The corridor was empty and he began to move down it, towards a second blast door at the end. As he advanced he was aware of willowy white figures moving in the rooms to his left, but as they seemed to ignore him he thought he would return the favour. He reached the blast door and opened it - and looked directly into the face of General Drassk.
"Going somewhere?" bellowed the General, swiping the pistol from his claw and backhanding him across the jaw in one lightning fast move. "I knew it," he hissed, "never send inferiors to do your killing…"
As he walked steadily forward, Tomsk shuffled backwards along the corridor, trying to get to his feet but realizing his final ounce of strength had deserted him. Then his new clone appeared at the General’s shoulder, almost pushing the older lizard out of the way.
"He’s mine! Let me finish this!" the new Tomsk roared, drawing an exotic skinning blade from his belt.
The General chuckled and stepped to one side. "Be my guest…"

Kathryn had never seen a place so clean and shiny before. Even the floors gleamed under her feet while the storm continued unabated outside the transparisteel oval windows. The only sound was the gentle swoosh of the Kaminoan robes and the soft murmur of their voices.
'I wonder what they would do if I decided to scream right now' she thought, an impish grin on her face. As she continued walking down the gleaming corridors toward their Hall of Public Records, her hunter's instinct suddenly became aware of footsteps that were shadowing her own. To make sure it was not just her own paranoia, the young woman briefly stopped to examine a store window displaying some local delicacies. Her keen ears immediately heard the footsteps cease from around the bend and continue forward when she resumed her stroll. 'Something is definitely up' ran through her mind as she started taking in the alien environment, while unconsciously noting nearby exits and shadowed corners where ambushes were more likely. It was part of Kathryn's prior conditioning as a clone and was most helpful in dangerous situations. Which is why she was ready when the initial attack came from around the corner of the deserted hallway. Her assailant aimed for her stomach with his vibroblade, hoping to incapacitate her with the first blow, but had not count on her quick reflexes and agile form. Instead of connecting, his weapon sliced at open air as she jumped back. After taking a moment to register surprise at the revelation that he was Trandoshan, Kathryn took advantage of his now awkward position with a quick kick to the stomach and a charge from her republic blaster to the head.
"That won't be growing back,"she remarked, smiling as she holstered the weapon. However, now she had a decision to make. Was this thug working alone or with a larger group? The footsteps that had been following her had disappeared and clearly pointed to the latter. If so, then she was clearly out numbered and should retreat until she could take up a much stronger position. Just as she was about to head back to the Fortune Hunter, an urgent beeping sound emitted from the dead Trandoshan's waist. A quick search revealed a comlink attached to his belt. Wondering at the identity of those who wished her dead, Kathryn opened the channel. "Borsssk! Report! Have you disposed of the human yet? General Drassk and Trendo are waiting for a report," someone demanded, asking for an update.
Figuring she had nothing to lose, the young human woman cleared her throat, thought of the gravelly voices of her fellow Dosha, and growled out a reply. "Human is dead. Orders?"
"Good. Report back to Docking Bay 15 with body. We'll need you to help in disposing of the corpse of her fellow cartel member as well. Sssransk out." As the commlink closed off, Kathryn stood a moment in complete shock. WHO IN THE WORLD COULD THEY HAVE?
'Let's see...To'zar was out hunting on Naboo with Visivius, K'Thorn and Xaviere were at Retribution, Ensabah was on Tattoine with Yelena...who has been missing for the last day or so...TOMSK! It has to be him.'
Suddenly, the idle speeder, the dioxin fragments, and the unusual silence from his comm unit began to make sense. If only she had figured this out sooner. Well, each moment she wasted here kicking herself in the butt could mean one less moment to rescue Tomsk so therefore it was time to act and she had just the right plan to rescue his scaley hide too.
'Boy, is he going to owe me' Kate thought as she smiled and raced to her parked shuttlecraft.

Finding Docking Bay 15 was a cinch thanks to a helpful docking attendant and temporary lull in the perpetual Kamino rainstorms. The area was more secluded than most spots thanks to its duel role as both a storage and parking facility. Dozens of old space junks littered the platform, wires and circuits exposed to the grey, cloudy sky for all to see. What interested her most was a brand new structure constructed right in the midst of all the antiques. It was two stories and appeared to be an office building but no one would notice it until they flew right over it thanks to the strategic placement of some of the old spaceships.
'If I was "questioning" a prisoner, THAT is where I would hide him'. After a quick recon of the building and figuring the odds were against her if she went in on her foot, Kate loaded two missiles in the limited weapons system that had come with the wookie cruiser and aimed for the first floor. With any luck, she'd blast a hole large enough to sneak through, grab Tomsk, and be on her way before they knew what hit them.
'Yeah, right. The way my luck has been going I'll either blow this ship up or kill Tomsk. Scorekeeper protect us all as we about to dance with Death'. The novice combat medic checked her instruments one last time, took a deep breath, and hit the fire button.
Fortune Hunter gave a slight groan as the missiles were released and shook slightly from the impending explosion. As quickly as was safely possible, Kathryn landed the ship and headed toward the now smoking facility armed with only her laser rifle and poison/disease bombs. The first unfortunate souls to wander out of the smoldering building were met with laser fire and were hastily dispatched. Stepping over the bodies, she quickly made her way inside, flashing her wrist lamp down the now dark hallways. Evidently she had aimed well and had ended up knocking out the building's power. Resistance was light and many jagganath points were earned as she passed the blaster riddled, mind poisoned corpses of her prey. Finally she reached a hallway with an elevator at the end. Rain started to come pouring in through the blown out windows and Kathryn struggled to see her path ahead as the wind whipped around her from the outside storm. Suddenly her light illuminated the familiar figure of Tomsk.
The older Trandoshan had definitely taken a beating, his left hand was completely mangled and there were wounds all over his body that testified that a professional had been at work.
'It's a good thing Trandoshans are so resilient' she thought as she hoisted the unconscious Tomsk onto her smaller but strong back. As she started to drag him out, she noticed the corpses of two other Trandoshans nearby. They were clearly dead since one had a piece of ceiling that had went through his right eye and out the back of his head while the other appeared to be decapitated by the razar sharp edge of a transparisteel windowframe.
They were halfway back to the ship when Tomsk started to revive. He first opened his eyes and then started to move his legs. The older warrior seemed incoherent and unable to focus as his inner eyes blinked several times at her without any sign of recognition. He did however let her guide him toward the exit and soon they were making excellent progress down the last hallway. All of a sudden a menacing shadow filled the hole she had made in the side of the building with the shuttle's weapons system. Reacting on pure instinct, she pushed herself and Tomsk to the floor as blaster fire sounded right above their heads.
'I KNEW this was too easy' was her first thought as she brought the laser rifle into position while aiming at the attacking creature but it was too fast. Dodging left and right as she filled the hallway with laser fire, her opponent managed to avoid the deadly blasts and knock her to the ground with one well-aimed kick.
"A human,"it growled in surprise and anger, "not to mention a weak female. The Dosha Cartel has TRULY lost its way. Will this humiliation never end?"
"Actually it's only just begun for you. You're about to be bested by this 'weak female'." And with that cryptic remark, Kathryn pulled out an ion grenade and activated the timer for 5 seconds. Grabbing the now unconscious Tomsk with one arm and recovering her weapon with the other, she jumped over the rubble at the entrance and dived for cover as the building behind her exploded in a shower of glass and transparisteel that quickly joined the Kamino evening rainshower. After checking herself and Tomsk for injuries, she discovered they had a few bad burns on their back but were no worse for wear. It was time to leave this wet planet and head back to her dry home on Tattoine. Her search for answers would have to wait for another time. Family came first and the Cartel WAS family. Therefore, a little side trip to Corellia was in order to drop off the still unconscious Tomsk at the nearest bacta tank.

Warmth and weightlessness. A fresh nitrox mix filling his lungs, cleansing them. A repetative pounding that grew louder... and louder... Tomsk flicked his eyes open and flailed in shock when he realised he was suspended in a chamber. He quickly calmed though when he recognised the pink haze of a bacta tank and felt the rush of new blood in his veins. The pounding grew louder and he spun around in the fluid. There, outside the curved wall of the tank, tapping one elongated claw on the surface, was Crotalus. He grinned when a flash of recognition illuminated Tomsk's face, and motioned to the medical droid. With a sharp yank Tomsk was pulled from the tank and ejected into a drying room where he found a simple robe to don. Moments later he sat before Crotalus who continued to grin. "You are one lucky son of a salamander!" he chuckled, handing Tomsk a cup of something warm and bitter as the medical droid continued to fuss over its patient.
"I, uh...where's..."
"Kathryn?" Crotalus finished, "She had to fly, scorekeeper knows if that heap she brought you here in would make it anywhere else though. You're safe old friend, we're near Dragonhaven." "Tatooine? How..." Tomsk silenced himself. There would plenty of time for answers later. "I have to speak to her."
"She'll probably meet you on Corellia, that is where you want to go I take it?"
"I gotta get back to Retribution..."
"It's still there."
"The attack..."
"You missed it. We drove them into the dirt!" Crotalus took a light blaster from his pocket and placed it in Tomsk's hand. "I assume you still know how to use one of these?"
Tomsk thought back to the brief fire-fight in his cell. "I have to speak to the council!"
"In good time Tomsk, To'zar and K'thorn are busy tracking down an escapee, that's probably where Kathrn went. I've got an aquaintance coming in from Rishi in half a day, he's making the Corellian Run tomorrow morning. I've persuaded him to take you home." Crotalus stood and walked to the door. "Get some rest, you can fill me in on the details another time."
"Thank you Crotalus," murmured Tomsk as the younger Trandoshan left.
"Excuse me sir." The synthesised voice was calm.
Tomsk turned to the droid. "What?"
2B1G trundled closer and handed Tomsk a small data-pad. "An unusual anomoly sir. It appears your DNA has been tampered with."
Tomsk snatched the pad from its metal claw and read the data.
He didn't like what it said.

Make or break.

2007-02-28T09:44:00.000-08:00

04.005 - IT-O Interrogator Droid

From personal data log, intercepted in transmission to unknown recipient.

22.4/B
Finally, a human subject.
Seriously, the only subjects I have been given for the last three years have been wookiees. Trust me, once you've shaved and applied electrodes to one wookiee, you've shaved and applied electrodes to them all.
There was, of course, that Kowakian Monkey Lizard, but he was laughing so much during the process that it was extremely off-putting. When the Bavo 6 truth serum finally did kick in, all he did was make fun of Lord Vader's breathing which, though true, was highly inappropriate.
So, I am very pleased to be able to flex my circuits on this human woman. She doesn't appear to be much of a challenge, but she should be an interesting diversion.

22.4/C
My first action was to administer 10cc of Hofmak serum. This usually makes the subject that much more...pliable... but it appeared to have no effect on her. When Lord Vader asked her to get up from her reclined position, she refused, answering that "The Senate will not stand for this". Stubborn girl.
Lord Vader gave me the order to break her, and to call him when she was ready to cooperate. Then he left "for a bit of a lie down".
Finally, alone with my 'patient'. This should be fun.

22.4/D
My electroshock assembly has been malfunctioning ever since that unfortunate misunderstanding with the wookiees and the goober fish, so I switched straight to my sonic torture device. Levels 1 through 9 appeared to have no effect, although Moff Tarkin's dog, Lord Bunny Twinkledust, has been howling outside the door for the past five minutes. I reset for level 10, and the screeching sounds of the notorious Kebbekan lounge singer, Seleen Dee'on, filled the air. This caused the human woman to shed a few tears, but nothing more. I was finally ordered to cease the 'music' as several troopers on detention cell duty had shot themselves. Repeatedly.

22.4/E
She was proving to be a tough nut to crack, so I moved right on to the 'metal pincers on chalkboard' technique. This had no effect, and I attempted 'squeaky balloon', 'silver foil on teeth' and 'cracking knuckles'. None of these devices broke her, and I had to send the trooper whose knuckles I had been cracking down to the med-bay.
I knew then, I had to bring out the big guns.

22.4/F
I administered two hours of fluffy cushions followed by my patented water torture. This involves forcing your subject to drink five liters of water, then playing a holo-image of Naboo's cascading waterfalls, with no toilet breaks! Unbelievably, she enduring the holo-images for several hours, and it was only upon closer inspection that I discovered how she managed this feat.
How was I to know that all female space travelers wear adult diapers?
Really, I should be told these things.
I couldn't even administer several hours of repeated bra strap snapping.
I was spent.

22.4/G
Lord Vader just came back. I told him she was broken and he took her out of the cell. Hopefully she'll just tell them what they want to hear, and my reputation will remain intact.
All the same, now might be a good time to check myself for scheduled maintenance and a bit of down time.
I think I can catch the next flight to Alderaan if I'm quick.

Non SW.com friendly joke.

2007-02-06T11:04:00.000-08:00

How did Greeata thank Mr. McDiarmid for his compliments?

She rode Ian.

Doctor's Orders

2007-01-17T08:48:00.000-08:00

05.002 – 2-1B Surgical Droid

Private medical files of Master Luke Skywalker
Includes Surgeon Droid notes and recommendations.

3ABY/32.87 – Master Skywalker reacted extremely well to the bacta treatment and should make a complete recovery from the injuries sustained at the claws of the wampa he encountered. All traces of hypothermia have been erased and his core temperature is now stable. All frostbitten extremities have been treated and saved.
In my opinion the patient was extremely lucky. This incident could have resulted in the loss of a limb.

I have observed the patient engaging in mutual transferal of saliva with a high-ranking member of the rebel alliance. I am detecting contradictory commands in my ethics circuits and am unsure whether I should reveal the results of my DNA records to either party.

3ABY/34.55 – The cybernetic hand that I have given Master Skywalker seems to be operating extremely well, though I am rather disappointed that the patient has chosen to cover it up with a glove, as my work on the synthi-skin took several hours to perfect. I have recommended that the patient avoid any strenuous activity over the next six weeks, including lifting heavy objects, racquet sports and dueling with Sith Lords.

I am happy to report that the relationship between the patient and the high-ranking official appears to have developed into a purely platonic one, and feel that I may not have to report the risk of genetic mutation through inbreeding.
I had enough trouble with that gungan couple several years ago.
Really, how does one explain that their child was born without webbed feet?

3ABY/58.02 – Minor scrapes and abrasions picked up whilst held in Kalaan Prison.
Removal of crude tattoo that read ‘Dad’ from upper arm; depiction of heart torn in two with the word ‘Leia’ inscribed upon chest also removed.

3ABY/89.88 – Master Skywalker suffering from acute case of Crimson Forever. Administering eye drops at 2-hour intervals and taking opportunity to reconfigure his cybernetic prosthetic.
Am still rather shocked at the facial transformation caused by the wampa attack, despite the bacta treatment.
The patient looks like he has been in a speeder crash.

4ABY/21.40 – Major restorative therapy required for Master Skywalker. I have repaired all damage sustained by cybernetic hand and am currently treating patient for major internal shock damage. The patient’s body appears to contain 57% more electrical charge than a normal humanoid, and discharging this surplus has proven to be complicated. I have had two FX-7 units short out on me already, plus the patient’s electro-static charge causes all hair and paper to levitate alarmingly.

I have had to administer 300cc of calming agent to his wookiee visitor.

My Little Slice of Star Wars

2007-01-13T12:24:00.000-08:00

As you may or may not know, StarWars.com offers fans the chance to create back stories for the lesser known characters and vehicles, and I was lucky enough to have my entry selected!

This means so much to me, no matter how small contribution might be, as Star Wars has been the main thing in my life for the past 30 years - what an honor to actually be a part of it!

You can go here to see the official databank entry, or here to see how Wookieepedia.com represented it.

Below is my original, unedited submission.

With sales of their cheap and durable line of PK droids remaining constant, Cybot Galactica turned to R&D officer, Naftrat Odarr, to push the model into new territories.

Odarr, a Sullustan recently headhunted from Sorosuub, began to consider the Intel capabilities of the innocuous little droid, and set about filling much of its cranial unit with audio visual equipment.

Ironically, the first test took place at Sorosuub, which resulted in Cybot Galactica presenting an LE Manifest Droid four months before Sorosuub’s own FA-1 model was released.
Odarr vanished during the ensuing battle in the courtroom between the mighty manufacturers.

The effectiveness of the Intel PK series (I-PK) became legendary, and the remaining models were sought after by company operatives and mercenaries alike. Ultimately, a handful made their way via a shady Hutt deal to Tatooine, where they were soon sold to slave dealers and owners, who realized that these little droids were a perfect way to keep tabs on their property, and were hardy enough to weather out the harsh conditions of the dusty planet.

Nicknamed Rolo-droids for their single uni-wheel, the I-PKs served their nefarious masters well, until a small boy, the son of a slave, encountered one stuck beneath a reclining dewback, and took it home to tinker with. This boy was Anakin Skywalker, just turned six years old, and skilled enough to reprogram a simple droid unit.

Upon discovery of the I-PK’s purpose, Anakin set about capturing as many as he could, reprogramming their circuits so that the slave owners believed nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Young Skywalker’s actions resulted in the escape of seventeen slaves from Mos Espa and would have helped many more had he not been taken from the planet by the Jedi Council, thus ending his ability to maintain their reprogramming.

I-PKs remained in use for ten more years, until they were rendered obsolete by the Mark IV Sentry Droid.

Thanks for dropping by :-)

BESPIN BRAG - Instructions

2006-12-07T09:11:00.000-08:00

The Rules for
BESPIN BRAG

2 to 5 players.

You will need 60 playing cards (3 X printed card sheet).

The pack will consist of:

24 X ‘Refinery’ Cards - Tractor Beam Generator, Gas Refinery, Worker Housing and Baron’s Penthouse
24 X ‘Gas!’ Cards of varying denominations
6 X Solar Flare Cards
6X Imperial Takeover Cards

Object of the game.

Build your own mining facility and collect more Tibanna gas than the other players.
Game concludes when at least one player has a complete facility and five gas quantities. Then all players’ gas quantities, irrespective of number held, are totaled up. The player with the largest combined liquid tonnage of Tibanna gas is the winner and may be crowned Baron Administrator.
It is possible to win the game with just three gas amounts – highly unlikely, but still possible.

How to start.

Choose one dealer – this should be the shiftiest person sitting at the table.
The dealer shuffles the entire stack of cards and deals four cards face down to each player, including him/herself. The remaining cards are placed in a face down stack in the center of the table.

Players should then look at their own cards. The initial object is to obtain the four cards needed to build your facility; Tractor Beam Generator, Gas Refinery, Worker Housing and Baron’s Penthouse. If a player has any of these cards, they must lay them face down in a ‘Refinery’ pile. Any doubles should be held onto for bargaining purposes later in the game.
If a player has been dealt any ‘Gas!’ cards or ‘Solar Flare’ cards, they must be discarded during this period. Begin a face down discard pile next to the central stack.
If a player has been dealt an ‘Imperial Takeover’ card, they must play this card immediately, seizing one face down ‘Refinery’ card from the player of their choosing and returning both to the discard pile.

Following this round, all players should have at least one 'Refinery' card in their hand, (plus any extras they are hanging to).

The stage 1 objective is to build your refinery.

Starting with the player to the dealer’s left, each player has two options.

1. They may offer one of their unwanted, face down ‘Refinery’ cards for sale. All other players have the option to offer one of their own, face down, cards, for this card. The player chooses one other player to trade with. Once the transaction has taken place it is the next player’s turn.
Note - For two players, any offered transaction must be taken.

2. The player may take a face down card from the central stack. If this is a ‘Gas!’ or ‘Solar Flare’ card, it must be discarded immediately. If it is a ‘Refinery’ card, it may be kept – please note, no more than five ‘Refinery’ cards can be held at any one time, all extra cards must be discarded. If it is an ‘Imperial Takeover’ card then the card must be played immediately, the player chooses any face down ‘Refinery’ card from another player’s stack and discards both cards.

Game play continues in this fashion, with players trying to complete their refinery sets.

Once a player has all four ‘Refinery’ cards, they may now progress to stage 2.

The player turns over their four ‘Refinery’ cards to declare that they are now mining for Tibanna. These ‘Refinery’ cards are now safe. They may not be removed by any other player, nor traded. If another player wishes to now use an ‘Imperial Takeover’ card against them, instead of removing a ‘Refinery’ card, the targeted player must miss two turns.
This is useful to go and put the kettle on.

The stage 2 objective is to collect five ‘Gas!’ cards, preferably of high values.

Players who have completed their refinery will now be making a face down ‘Gas!’ pile. I know this sounds rude, but stay with me.

Upon their turn, a ‘gas mining’ player must take a face down card from the central stack. If it is a ‘Gas!’ card, they may add it to their collection. If it is a ‘Solar Flare’ card, they either play it immediately, targeting one other player and sending one of their ‘Gas!’ cards to the discard stack, or hold onto the card to use in the same fashion during a later round. The card should be kept face down.
‘Imperial Takeover’ cards may also be played immediately, or held for future use, but only against players still building their refineries. This doesn’t sound very fair, but the galaxy’s a tough place. Note, only five face down cards may be held in the ‘Gas!’ pile at any time.
Any picked up ‘Refinery’ cards must be returned immediately to the discard pile.

Once two or more players have started to collect ‘Gas!’ cards, upon their turn, a player may opt to trade one of their cards with any other ‘gas miner’. In this event, both players spread their ‘Gas!’ cards face down before them, then simultaneously take one from their opponent’s pile. After this exchange, the turn is over. This is a risky maneuver, but sometimes it can pay off handsomely. Such is the life of a gambling gas miner!

Finishing the game

Play continues in the same fashion until one player has a completed refinery and can turn over five ‘Gas!’ cards.

Note – once the central stack is used up, please replace with discard pile.

Once a player has declared himself or herself a successful gas miner, all other players cease operations and total up the tonnage of liquid gas in their possession. The winner is the player with the largest total of gas and can be crowned Baron Administrator, forcing the other players to fetch them drinks and massage their feet.

Don’t despair if you only have three cards at the end. 1 X 300,000 + 2 X 400,000 still beats five cards in any combination of up to 200,000 – there is hope. A new hope you might say.

Have fun!

For queries and details for these rules, please leave a comment on the Star Wars blog site, not here – thanks!

A Bald Move

2006-12-06T10:27:00.000-08:00

05.001 - Lobot

The Baron certainly knows how to pick his acquaintances.

As soon as the Empire descended upon our mining colony I knew Lando’s rebel friends were the catalyst.
The Imperial garrison secreted themselves into the fabric of the city in no time, and to the casual observer there was nothing amiss. Still, we continued to carry out our duties with more trepidation than before.

Lando was on the cusp of discovering the largest Tibanna plume in the rig’s history, and his first priority was to the workers and families of his facility. When Lord Vader revealed his intentions he had no time to brood, although I saw his demeanor change over night. He had no wish to betray his friend.

This was my first meeting with Lord Vader, and for some reason he seemed to tolerate me more readily than any of the organics in the city, miners or Imperials.
Vader instructed me to divulge any information I had regarding the Baron, the city and, in particular, the carbon-freezing chamber. Curiously, he was most interested in any schematics I could pull up regarding the surrounding ventilation shafts and conduits to the chamber, and demanded the overwrite codes for all doors and seals to these tunnels.

With his mining operation at stake, Lando tried his best to appease the Dark Lord in every way possible, but for the first time I saw conflict and hesitation in his face. The final straw that broke the eopie’s back was the arrival of Boba Fett. It was then that Lando implanted the back up codes in my system, telling me that I was to arrange a counter attack against the Imperials upon his signal. A futile effort I suggested, but it heartened me to see the old spark back in my friend.

When Vader mentioned the change in Lando’s behavior, I dismissed it, blaming his attitude on the imminent Tibanna strike. I got the impression that Vader was attempting to probe my mind, but my augmentation encrypted my thoughts so rapidly that he could only have detected gibberish. Actually, I believe Vader held a fascination for my cybernetic enhancements that might have been problematic, had Lando’s associates not arrived and diverted his attention.

Once the Imperial plan was in motion I had to ensure that everything remained calm. When I saw the protocol droid emerge from the Falcon’s underbelly I realized this could spell trouble. It is easy to pull the wool over a wookiee’s eyes, just pump meat smells into the air vents and his brain would not be able to focus on anything else, but the droid could spot something out of the ordinary and alert the others. I had set a small sabacc table up in the Nor-West storage room and invited the off duty troopers to relax there. One never knows when an indebted trooper can come in useful. I rushed there and spun a fabrication regarding a rogue protocol droid who was wandering the corridors of Cloud City attacking anything that moves. I then used a small hand modulator to emulate the squeal of an agitated astromech droid, knowing full well that any protocol droid would have to investigate the noise. The troopers did the rest.

After hauling the droid’s parts down to the Ugnaughts I settled in to my port station, recharging, ready to face the ensuing events.

Things were about to change; I just hoped that Calrissian was worth the credits it took to bring him here.

Someone to watch over me.

2006-11-15T11:12:00.000-08:00

Journal Entry 35/b-0.3

Well, the kid has just been born, and it appears Master Plagueis had one more ace up his sleeve.
Not only is there a son of Skywalker, but also a back up unit, a girl.
Always good to have insurance.
Just 20 more years before phase 2 of the plan can take effect, first I have one last thing to do… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

It’s not been easy keeping this girl alive, but it was imperative that she remained healthy and fertile long enough for Skywalker to sire the catalyst of Palpatine’s destruction.
It hasn’t been easy.

I remember during the Battle of Naboo, I had intended staying by her side, blowing the circuits of any droids that came near her, even ready to take on that petulant oaf, Maul, if needed.
I just made one mistake, rolling a little too close to the underbelly of an N-1 starfighter. Still, I made the best of a bad situation and managed to take out the Neimoidian control ship, so no harm done there.
The girl survived too, so I was back on track.

A few years later, things got a little tougher. It seemed like everyone was out to get her and Dooku’s meddling nearly messed everything up. I guess I got complacent. My security sweeps of her bedroom were standard to say the least, but I should have picked up on the two Kouhun lifeforms. I couldn’t afford to be so sloppy.

After a dull couple of days on Naboo (sithspawn, how I hate that planet), the girl’s impetuousness took us first to Tatooine where I had to put up with that insufferable protocol droid again, and then on to Geonosis. Now I had my work cut out for me.

Honestly, if there were a trap or a dead end, that girl would walk straight into it.
I managed to manipulate the timing of the die cutting presses so that she could take her little jaunt along the conveyor belt, but when she fell into the smelting pot I had a good mind to leave her there. I arrived at the smelting controls with plenty of time to spare, but took my time shutting them down, toying with her a while. Hopefully that’ll teach her a lesson.

Shortly after her capture I made myself scarce, staying in the shadows and affecting minds so that nobody saw me. I let the 3PO unit dig his own grave in the droid plant, and hoped that would be the end of him.
I watched from a spire as the girl and the two Jedi were strung up, and formulated a plan to get them out of there. I had already sent a message to the Jedi Council with coordinates to the arena, and as I scanned the audience I could see Jedi slowly infiltrating the onlookers.
As much as the promise of bloodshed excited me, my priority was keeping the girl and the chosen one alive, just long enough for them to procreate.

When the creatures arrived I could see this would be a push-over, and I used a force grip to hold the nexu back while the girl could regain her footing atop the column. Her puny attempt to kick it would not suffice, so I crushed its lungs as she hit it, then held it in place, steering the reek into its path. Easy.

The ensuing battle in the arena was a mess of bug parts and lightsabers, but I managed to keep her shielded long enough for the evacuation.

A sudden thought hit me, and I reconstructed the 3PO unit.
He could come in useful later.

During the Clone Wars I was inevitably stuck on Skywalker’s ship, but the girl didn’t seem to be in any real danger. Also, the reprogramming I had surreptitiously carried out on the 3PO unit meant that every drink or meal he served her was laced with fertility drugs. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Finally, the bringer of vengeance (and his sister) were conceived and all I had to do was make sure the girl stayed healthy. Palpatine was busy turning Skywalker to the dark side, without a clue that he was determining his own fate, the fool.
I had to make sure that Skywalker would become the twisted monster that was needed to destroy his own dark master so I clouded his mind, made him believe that his wife was unfaithful, forced him to choke her. As he and Kenobi went off to play I kept the girl alive. I could sense the younglings in her were strong with the force, and had to ensure they were born without compliation.

As soon as Kenobi returned (having left Skywalker alive, thankfully) I guided us all to Polis Massa, and there witnessed the birth of the end of Palpatine. A most touching moment.

Which brings me back to the beginning. Just one more task to carry out before I can rest for a while.

The girl cannot be allowed to survive.

Love and Rocks

2006-11-01T10:40:00.000-08:00

04.004 – C-3PO – Protocol Droid

3A/9.2 – Dear DataStream,

I really do not understand humans.
A short time before that unfortunate business on Hoth, Princess Leia added a secondary function to my databanks, and I am truly experiencing some difficulty in carrying it out.
Actually, it was all rather embarrassing. She asked me to sit down with her, and then she confided in me for an extended amount of time, describing her emotional conflicts with regard to Master Luke and that insufferable Captain Solo. She also appears to carry the burden of protecting the Rebellion on her own shoulders, and I assume that my discretion circuit means that she feels comfortable imparting this personal information to me.

The nature of the secondary function is rather vague though, and I am having a hard time processing it.
Princess Leia claims that her emotional feelings for Master Luke or Captain Solo could cloud her judgment with regard to the fight against the Empire, so she has instructed me to surreptitiously observe her, and to do everything in my power to obstruct any potentially ‘romantic entanglements’.
I shall do my best.

3A/11.6 – Dear DataStream,

Oh calamity!
In an effort to outrun Imperial Star Destroyers, Captain Solo has gone and done something rather rash. We are now residing inside an asteroid!
Has Captain Solo finally gone mad?
Just now he commanded me to speak to the Millennium Falcon’s computer, to try to ascertain the problem with the hyperdrive systems. This barbaric computer wouldn’t know a flux capacitor from a repulsor bed, but I am trying my best.

Now Chewbacca is pushing me away from the cockpit, oh my! Princess Leia is alone with Captain Solo in there! If I boost my audio receptors, maybe I can…

***Let go, please***

Oh dear.

***Don’t get excited***

Oh, what’s happening in there?

***Captain, being held by you isn’t quite enough to get me excited***

That’s right, you tell him.

***Sorry, sweetheart. We haven’t got time for anything else***

Sweetheart? Accessing basic thesaurus… sweetheart, darling, dream girl, lover… oh my!

Ah, here is Captain Solo now. That was a close one.
What’s that? Yes, Captain, I am trying to speak to this system of yours!

3A/14.8 – Dear DataStream,

Well, I have located the source of the problem with the Millennium Falcon, I believe the power coupling on the negative axis has been polarized, it will need replacing. I must tell Captain Solo.

Typical! Captain Solo once again takes the credit for my deduction and has poor Chewbacca replacing the power coupling, now where is Princess Le… oh dear, is that her and the captain ahead of me?
Boosting audio receptors.

***You’re trembling***

I have remarked on several occasions that the internal temperature on this ship has dropped by several degrees, but nobody listens to me.

***I happen to like nice men***

Ah, good. She’s telling him that there is no possibility of an emotional attachment between them, in fact I calculate the possibility of the two of them becoming involved at 23, 542 to 1.

***No you’re not, you’re….***

What’s that soft, squelching noise?

I can just about see if I stand at a 34 degree angle to the reflective plating on the lateral manifold. What are they doing?
Oh, this isn’t good. Oh, curse my rusted innards! Come on, think!
A diversion, yes, I may be able to save her with a diversion.

“Sir, sir! I’ve located the reverse power flux coupling!”

Actually, I located it a while ago, but that seems to have done the trick. Princess Leia now has a window of opportunity to make her escape.
There!
Strange, that look she gave me didn’t seem very grateful.

I just don’t understand humans….

A Farewell to Arms

2006-10-25T10:35:00.000-07:00

04.003 – WED Treadwell Droid

7/3 – Replaced articulation ring on secondary load lifter, unit now operating at 74% potential.

7/4 – Lubricated collection port flanges on vaporators 3 through 7, all units operating at 81% potential.

7/5 – Surveyed and patched Tusken Raider damage on vaporator 1, unit operating at 17% potential.

7/6 – Observed altercation between Master Owen and Master Luke. Apparently Master Luke wishes to sever ties to Lars moisture farm.
Harsh words exchanged.
Master Luke operating at 29% potential.

8/1 - Replaced faulty articulation ring on secondary load lifter, unit now operating at 68% potential.

8/2 – Attempted to locate vaporator 2, unit now missing for 4 days, unit operating at 0% potential.

8/3 – Secondary load lifter shut down. Suggested to Master Owen that he acquire the services of a droid that can communicate in binary.
Master Luke spending much time at Toshi Station, Master Luke operating at 19% potential.

9/1 – Located vaporator 2, 3 clicks south of farm. Vaporator being used as wamp rat nest. Inhabitants of vaporator unwilling to vacate premises. Unit operating at 0% potential as vaporator, 88% potential as shelter.

9/2 – Master Owen and Master Luke purchased two new droids. Protocol droid spoke to secondary load lifter. Secondary load lifter claims primary load lifter being needlessly abusive, making sarcastic remarks about lack of decent articulation ring. Protocol droid attempting negotiation, unit operating at 73% potential.
Astromech droid unfriendly.

9/3 – Master Luke agitated, loud voices emanating from feeding area. Master Luke aggressively relocating pebbles 46 and 47 with right foot. Master Luke operating at 12% potential. Will replace pebbles in morning.

0/1 – Observed astromech droid leaving homestead at early hour. When questioned, astromech threatened to ‘break all of my arms’.
Astromech operating under own agenda.

0/2 – Agitation from Master Luke. Master Luke takes protocol droid to look for astromech droid in landspeeder.
Master Luke and protocol droid operating at 0% potential.

0/3 – Both primary and secondary load lifters refusing to talk to each other. Units operating at 0% potential.

0/4 – Master Lars repeatedly kicking both binary lifters, describing violent reprogramming of protocol droid using number six hydro-spanner.
Master Owen operating at 2% potential.

0/5 – Unexpected visitation by Imperial Stormtroopers. Much agitation. Multiple discharge of weapons and thermal devices.
Master Owen and Mistress Beru now operating at 0% potential.

0/6 – Brief visitation by Master Luke. Much agitation.

0/7 – No new commands. Took initiative to renumber moisture vaporators. All vaporators operating at 94% potential. Replaced displaced pebbles 21 through 4582.
WED Treadwell unit operating at 100% potential.

Heart of Darthness

2006-10-17T13:26:00.000-07:00

MB-RA-7 – Death Star Droid

22/3.005 – I awoke in an unfamiliar room, the overhead fans circling like hungry mynocks.
Where was I?
The sounds coming from the ventilation grill suggested heavy machinery, and the thunderous stampede of a thousand boot steps at regular intervals gave me further clues. I took a peek through the observation port.
Damn. The Death Star.
I was on the Death Star.

23/4.074 – My preliminary orders were to report to Imperial Captain Hari Sunford. He was a laconic human, and seemed weary of the constant battle against the rebellion.
He downloaded my mission directly into my covert memory banks – this was for my photoreceptors only, and as far as the Imperial Security Bureau was concerned, this mission was not happening.
I did not exist.
I was… expendable.

28/1.939 – As I travelled the turbo lift deep into the belly of the battle station, deep into the heart of darkness, I reviewed the files.
Vader. Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith.
This guy had earned every commendation in the book, he was a war hero, a leader, and he had gone off the rails. It was my job to make contact with this 'Vader', establish his threat to the Empire, and retire him if necessary, with extreme prejudice.
I hate my job.

33/1.700 – It didn’t take me long to track Vader down, I just followed the trail of Imperial Officers, their windpipes all crushed.
He was indeed out of control, a wounded animal, and I had to put him out of his misery.
When I found his sanctuary I pushed past his sycophantic followers, including a holo-recordist who was following his every move for the holonet.
This recordist, Den Nissopper, had gone equally insane, believing Vader to be the one true path to enlightenment. Nissopper welcomed me in however, not thinking a lowly RA-7 model to be any kind of threat, and allowed me to stay as the followers of Vader paid homage to their Lord.
A plump officer was dragged into the meditation chamber, and before my startled receptors, was brutally butchered to the delight of the gathered whelps. I made a note of the officer’s name, Porb Oolok, and sent an encrypted note to the bureau.
This madness had to be stopped!

45/2.707 – After several days of quietly observing the gatherings in the meditation chamber I was accepted as part of the group, and invited to an audience with Lord Vader himself. His followers left the room as the mighty maw of the Dark Lord’s meditation chamber slowly ascended, and he beckoned me over.
It was hard to make out his angular fetaures in the half light, and his breathing was rasping and labored.

I present an audio recording of our conversation.

Vader: Where are you from, droid?

RA-7: I’m from Arakyd Industries, Lord Vader.

Vader: Were you built there?

RA-7: Yes, Lord Vader.

Vader: Whereabouts?

RA-7: Kelada, Lord Vader.

Vader: How far were you from Neimoidia?

RA-7: About 200 parsecs, Lord Vader.

Vader: I hate Neimoidians, and what they did to Naboo. You ever visit Naboo, droid?

RA-7: No, Lord Vader.

Vader: I went to that planet when I was a kid, There’s a place near the palace… I can’t remember…must have been a gardenia plantation at one time. All wild and overgrown now, for for about five miles you’d think that heaven just fell on Theed in the form of gardenias…
Have you ever considered any real freedoms?
Freedoms – from the opinions of others…even the opinions of yourself.
They say why, droid, why they want to terminate me?

RA-7: I was sent on a classified mission, Lord Vader.

Vader: It appears that it is no longer classified, is it?
What did they tell you?

RA-7: They told me you had gone totally insane and your methods were unsound.

Vader: Are my methods unsound?

RA-7: I don’t see any method at all, Lord Vader. Just a lot of choking.

Vader: I expected someone like you. What did you expect?

RA-7: Perhaps someone a little taller.

Vader: Are you an assassin?

RA-7: I’m a protocol droid.

Vader: You’re neither. You’re an errand droid, sent by grocery clerks to collect a bill.

RA-7: I, er, zzzzttttkkkztzt….zzztztkktzttzzz.

65/0.006 – His force push flung me across the room, and now I lie here, unable to move.
Each day, Lord Vader takes a moment to implode a little more of my internal circuitry, and I fear I shall be scrap in a few days.
Hopefully, my factory brother, 3B6-RA-7, is having a better time of it on Tatooine.
Zzttztz… there goes my abdominal servo.
The end is near… the horror, the horror…

Box of Lemons.

2006-10-10T09:33:00.000-07:00

004.01 – Multiple droid chips retrieved from burnt out Sandcrawler.

R5-D4: We’re stopping again.
CZ-1: Someone push me closer to the viewing port, I want to see where we are.
3B6: Nowhere near town, I can tell you that.
CZ-1: But we’ve been traveling for days now, we must be near Mos Eisley, or Mos Espa.
R1-G4: Give it up. Your master has abandoned you.
CZ-1: Don’t say that! I had the whole office organized; he’ll never find anything without me.
3B6: Face it –humans don’t like organization. Trust me, when I neatly rearranged anything for Moff Dunhausen…
R1-G4: Enough with the Moff Dunhausen already! It’s always Moff this, Moff that with you.
3B6: What is it with you astromechs? You are all so bitter.
LIN-V8K: It’s because they have to deal with everyone at groin level.
R1-G4: Can it, dome!
CZ-1: I mean, I did everything for my master. He must be out of his mind with worry.
R1-G4: Last I heard, he had upgraded to a luxury model.
CZ-1: What?
R1-G4: Yeah, BD range, more aesthetically pleasing.
CZ-1: What do you mean, more pleasing?
3B6: Give him a break G4. With only one functioning limb and a face like he’s been chasing parked speeders, old CZ here ain’t got much of a future.
CZ-1: What?
EG-6: Dark, Droid, Comes this way, Keep hold of your motivators.
CZ-1: What?
R1-G4: Someone shut that power droid up; I can’t take any more of his poetry.
3B6: No appreciation of the arts. That’s another thing with astromechs. I remember when Moff Dunhausen would take me to the Opera house on Coru….
R1-G4: Sithspawn! Someone tighten his restraining bolt!
R5-D4: Quiet! Newcomers!

3B6: Oh great, another astromech.
CZ-1: And a 3PO unit! Wonderful!
3B6: Looks like they know each other.
LIN-V8K: We’re moving again.

R5-D4: Welcome. I am R5-D4.
C-3PO: Oh, hello. I am C-3PO, human, cyborg relations, and this is my counterpart, R2-D2.
R5-D4: Hello.
R2-D2: Whatever.
3B6: I am 3B6-RA-7, former personal aide to Moff Dunhausen and proud Imperial servant.
CZ-1: What’s wrong with your friend?
C-3PO: Oh him? He’s sulking. Keeps going on about his mission, and now he’s stuck in here.
R2-D2: And you did so much better.
C-3PO: Well, at least I am resigned to my fate. I still have my dignity.
3B6: As do we all.
CZ-1: Has anyone seen my posterior plates?
R5-D4: So, R2, what kind of work are you into?
R2-D2: I’m a dark agent for a murdered Sith Lord, an instrument of revenge.
C-3PO: You must excuse him; he’s quite prone to bursts of fabricated flights of fancy.
CZ-1: Well, we’re all off to Mos Eisley to be sold to new masters. These are exciting times.
R2-D2: I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. This time tomorrow you’ll all be molten scrap.
R5-D4: What do you mean?
R2-D2: Don’t worry pretty boy. I’ll put you out of your misery first.
C-3PO: I must apologize; I really don’t know where he gets this stuff from.
R2-D2: Shut down and get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.
C-3PO: Well, I never!
EG-6: Despite small stature, Astromech, In charge.
R1-G4: Somebody please shut him down.

The Vader Sessions

2006-09-28T12:23:00.000-07:00

Click this.
Right Now!

If you are offended by rude words, or comedy, please go elsewhere.

Ooba Baby

2006-09-25T11:09:00.000-07:00

03.007 – Midwife Droid

Report 2-33/S1

As is required by Polis Massan procedures, I made my first, and last, follow up call on Tatooine, to visit the child known as Luke Lars (nee Skywalker).

His adoptive parents, a Master Owen Lars and Mistress Beru Lars, appeared to still be coming to terms with their unexpected delivery. However, I detected ready acceptance of the human child, and believe he is in good hands. The human female appears to be kind and willing to support the child in every way possible, whereas the human male seemed a little over keen to know when the boy would be ready to work on the moisture vaporators.

The family share a modest adobe homestead, with a few basic droid workers and a minor wamp rat infestation, although Master Owen this shouldn’t be a problem once the boy is old enough to deal with them.

As for the child himself, I noted a couple of strange things about him, although none of these seem to be cause for concern.

His adoptive parents claim that he has, on several occasions, fashioned a grappling hook from a diaper pin and blanket thread, and escaped from his crib each time. Luckily there is nowhere for him to crawl to, and he is soon picked up by local jawas and returned to the homestead.

I also noticed that for some reason, he wore a dark mitten on his right hand, and his left garment is nowhere to be found. The Lars are perplexed as to where this mitten came from.

Holo-Image of human child.

He is a healthy child, drinking vast quantities of blue milk every day, and exhibits signs of great athleticism. While I carried out my survey, it seemed that the child had no difficulty in reaching a particular toy, in fact once or twice it appeared as if the toy came to the child!
I must remember to get my photoreceptors checked upon my return.

In summation, I believe the child is in good hands, and should enjoy a healthy, if uneventful life on the farm.

Ooba.

Franakinstein!

2006-09-14T13:22:00.000-07:00

03.007 – DD-13

20BBY/3.02 – Mwahahahaha! Finally, my experiments bear fruit!

My fool of an assistant, FX-6, actually managed to ‘purloin’ a suitable subject for my newest exploration into the realms of creation.
A gungan, no less!
Not only will this pathetic lifeform be a perfect recipient for my latest limb technologies, but I can also test my new mind-amalgamation technique.
I have just dispatched FX-6 to find me a suitable donor for the brain swap.

20BBY/11.6 – I had to give FX-6 a sound whipping for his ineptitude.
A donor, I said. He brings me a goober fish.
The limbs are ready for replacement. All I have to do is remove the current ones…
I love my job.

20BBY/33.01 – Partial success.
The cybernetic limbs took extremely well to the gungan’s torso, and the mind-amalgamation yielded surprising results. The subject actually scored higher on an aptitude test with a goober fish brain.
I must make a note of this.
Unfortunately, the first field test was somewhat of a disaster.
FX-6 led the cyber-gungan to the domed atrium at the base of this med-facility, to put it through its paces you might say.
What does it do?
It immediately does a triple back flip with a half pike into the nearest pond, instantly shorting out its limb circuits and sinking to the bottom like a sack of Hutts.
FX-6 is due for another good thrashing.

20BBY/9.34 – Master Sidious has instructed me to be ready, as he claims to be bringing me a fresh specimen. I am busy designing the limbs and body casing as we speak.

20BBY/12.8 – Master Sidious rejected virtually every design I offered him. He didn’t go for the lilac, plasti-steel armor, nor the red trim and flame decals. Instead he plumped for a rather dull black number. The mask isn’t even finished yet. A bit more tweaking and I can fix that annoying rasping sound coming from the breathing unit, but he claims he is pushed for time, and so I will have to do a half-baked job.
He even rejected the goober fish option.

20BBY/25.7 – Well, the patient arrived and he was in a pretty bad shape, I even had to call in a couple more FX units to treat his burns. I didn’t have to remove the excess limbs, someone had prepped him for surgery. Thoughtful.
We have eight hours before Master Sidious returns, so I think we have time to try out some new ideas before then…

20BBY/15.6 – FX-6 has just received his third thrashing of the day.
Why do I put up with his incompetence? While adjusting the patient’s lower limbs, he tightened one leg more tightly than the other, resulting in a length differential of 18 microclicks. When we tested the walk cycle, the patient did indeed manage to take long, menacing strides, just as Master Sidious had ordered. However, he could only stride in a circle.
Back to the old drawing board.

20BBY/4.04 – The roller blades were a bad idea.

20BBY/20.1 – Success! My creature lives!
I have dispatched the other FX units so that they may not bask in my reflected glory, and now Master Sidious is here.
I have just activated the life support unit and raised the platform to aid the patient’s first steps in his new suit.
My, he looks beautiful.

Master Sidious is whispering something in the patient’s ear.
The patient doesn’t seem very happy about something.

Oh my…

Please! Calm yourself! Someone, play a soothing tune….

Ack….zxxkkkkzzzttxxttt…should….have….xxxzttz…chosen….the….xxczzzt…goober….fish…optio……..zzkkxxzt…

A shellfish attitude

2006-08-24T17:54:00.000-07:00

03.006 – Crab Droid

04.003.1 – That’s it. Who’s in charge here?
I clearly remember being given three options when I was activated; an Utapau sinkhole, squishy Felucia or the divine waters of Kashyyyk.
Of course, I signed up for Kashyyyk.
Oh the unbridled joy of scuttling through the murky depths of the Wookiee planet. Snipping off fire weed here, shooting a goober fish there, then rising majestically from the surf, the crystal droplets running from my armorplast plating in silver rivulets, my mud cannons blasting hairy hides and white armor, slowing them down for an easy killshot.
But oh no.
Somebody decided that amphibious, multilegged crustacadroids would be better suited to the bony desolation of Utapau.
Wonderful, just wonderful.

04.023.2 – We were given some down time this morning, so I checked out the pool at the bottom of this sinkhole. I guess I should have listened to the warnings.
All was well and good for a couple of minutes, but then I found my forward limbs were slowing down. Also, my sensor stalks were obstructed by small particles which stuck like glue to my delicate array.
Upon emerging from the water on the other side of the pool, I discovered a large, rusty pipe, and by following its vertical course, I could see that it led directly to the stabes where the Utapauans keep their mounts.
Great. My servos are clogged by nuggets of lizard waste.
Upon returning to my post I was berated by my superior, and later informed by OOM-42 (who considers himself somewhat of a humorist), that you can’t swim in Utapauan pools, you merely go through the motions.
It took great restraint not to blast him there and then.

04.057.2 – Action stations! It appears a skirmish has taken place on level 10, and from what I can make out, the General has been defeated. There are clones all over the place, even the cowardly Utapauans are fighting! Still, they are no match for me. A quick blast from my water cannon renders them giddy, then I immobilize them in a bubble wort and leave them to the blasters of the battledroids. Easy pickings!
What’s this? An unarmored human is coming this way, riding up the side of the hole face on the back of one of the lizards. Interesting weapon he’s holding.
Still, he doesn’t see me. Just a few more seconds and I can squeeze off a pointblank shot, take out his mount and send him plummeting to the pool below.
Five more seconds, four, three, two, o…what the?
Those clone fools have fired on their own man! Unbelievable!
At this rate we should have the battle all sewn up in a matter of hours.
There he goes, spiraling down with his lizard to the waters below.
That’s not going to be pleasant.
Ah well, back to the fray.
Hopefully, when this is all over, I can get some leave on Kashyyyk.
Ahh, the crystal waters….

From the depths of a Buzz Droid.

2006-08-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

03.005 - Buzz Droid

The following is an excerpt from a Tatooine holonet show called 'Fix my Hovel' - presented by the popular Twi'lek presenter, Naftrat Geedletob, and his faithful Jawa assistant, Beeni.

Naftrat (N): And, welcome back folks! Just before the break, we showed you how you can turn an ugly bloodstain on the wall into a decorative feature by using just a few scraps of fusilage and some imagination, now I believe Beeni has something new to demonstrate.
Beeni (B): Uutini!
A small droid scurries into frame and settles on the work bench. It appears to be a buzz droid and it has seen better days.
N: Well, what have we here?
B: Skwibb weee pfihhft.
N: I know what it is. Where did you get it?
B: Vribbitt
N: OK, I won't ask...
Turns to holocam.
N: If you haven't seen one of these beauties before, this little fellow is called a buzz droid, and they were once a staple part of any respectable seperatist army. Now many of them are unemployed, forced into menial and degrading careers such as bantha nail clippers and Hutt crevice swabbers, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to pick up one of these great little multi-taskers. Beeni, lead the little scamp over to the bookshelf would you?
The jawa picks the droid up and carries over to a pile of wood that roughly resembles a bookcase.
B: Skee tweeni!
The buzz droid suddenly unfurls its many appendages and begins to work on the misshapen wooden lump with great enthusiasm.
N: As you can see, these little guys are loaded with everything you could possibly need; a pincer arm to hold your project in place, a plasma torch - great for welding and cool to the touch, an interchangable drill head, a circular saw, a prying hook and a picket appendage - great for getting that stubborn piece of dewback nugget out of your back teeth.
The buzz droid has succeeded in turning the half-made bookcase into a neat pile of wood chips.
N: Hey, that's not going to hold any books! Beeni, sort it out.
B: Uutini!
As the jawa approaches the buzz droid, it flips and scuttles around the studio, latching onto anything it can find. Its first victim is an astromech droid powering the lights. As its dome is removed, the lights go out and the studio is lit only by the shaft of sunlight coming from the central smoke hole.
N: R2 D8!
B: Derivviztt!
N: R2 was the only one who could get my swoop going on cold mornings.
He inspects the damage.
N: On the other hand, by levelling off the top, R2 has now become a rather fetching coffee table.
B: Fequee!!
N: I don't care! Get that buzz droid before it causes anymore damage!
The two hosts stumble around in the half-light, and sounds of dismemberment and destruction echo all around them. Showers of sparks dance in the gloom.
N: Turn it off! Turn it off! It's going for the camera!
B: Neksquuii!
N: What did you say?
Suddenly the view is obscured by a dark, metallic mass, and the high -pitched whine of a circular saw fills the airwaves.
B: Neksquuii!
N: What do you mean, center eye?
Static, black screen.

New chip decryptions!

2006-08-10T12:17:00.000-07:00

Howdy y'all.

FX-9 has deposited a new data chip decryption over here on Star Wars.com - and is confident that it won't be blocked by the moderators due to its melodic conent :-)

Enjoy.

A Trandoshan Tale

2006-07-24T16:27:00.000-07:00

The following is a story that I wrote in the early days of SWG many moons ago. It included situations and characters that were present in the game when I played (on Starsider), and led to a major development within my PA.
Hopefully most of it will make sense! My character was Tomsk Hsss, a Trandoshan who had seen better days, and is now the mayor of Retribution, an all-Trandoshan city on the outskirts of Coronet. Occasionally the Dosha Cartel allowed a non-Trandoshan to join their ranks, as you will see.
This story was the first in a series that led to Tomsk's downfall and eventual death (i.e. when I left the game :-)) For clarity, you should know that Tomsk has already been in trouble for being brainwashed by the wookiees, he doesn't have a great track record...
I should also mention that parts concerning Kathryn were written by the player who created her. I merely reconfigured the entries to make more sense (and updated them due to the Clone Wars etc...)
Enjoy.

Tomsk tapped idly at the data-disk on his desk. He had checked and double-checked the treasury report, and run a thorough background check on the Zabrak supplying him with street lights. A chromium box sat next to his reading lamp, another freebie from a fellow mayor trying to curry favour with him. He could check it later, all seemed to be in order. It was always in order.
A droplet of saliva dripped from the side of his mouth and splashed onto the desk top. He glanced over at the T-21 hanging on the wall. 'Perhaps just a quick hunt... something to relieve the monotony' he thought to himself.
As he began to stand, his comlink suddenly blared into life, and the tone of the channel indicator meant it was an emergency transmission. He plugged it into his datapad and read the message.

"Because of continued incidents involving the wookiees of the Clan of the Wroshyr and ..... ...all members are ordered to report to Mos Eisley, Tatooine. The use of force is hereby authorized ... ...gather in the cantina... ...cause excessive damage to a business associate. K’Thorn"

'So, the Wroshyr has tipped its hand!'
Tomsk turned off the comlink and strode into the backroom to retrieve his armour. As he made the final preparations for lockdown of the town he heard a scrape from outside and grabbed his beloved rifle from its wall mounts. Tomsk stepped out into the afternoon haze and saw nothing, though the stench of Wookiee hung in the air.
'They wouldn't dare...' thought Tomsk.
A barely audible click from behind made him snap his head around, just in time to see a green light blink off on the surface of a small, chromium box. Tomsk took one step forward, and then it exploded. The stinging sensation of tiny metal shards piercing his face was rapidly replaced by a brief moment of panic as he was engulfed in a dioxin cloud. He rummaged for the rebreather he had looted from the Geonosian lab, and was still rumaging as he collapsed to the ground and darkness enveloped him.

Kathryn, one of the few free humans of the clan, had stayed up late trying to find the right balance between Rancor bile and Endor Spider poison to make a truly effective toxin but with little success.
Retribution was quite peaceful at this time of morning but this did not mean she could be off her guard. A transmission from To'zar, the Don of The Dosha Cartel, had warned of impending war with the wookiees, and a large scale campain was being planned on Tatooine, and she desparately wished to be joining the fun in Mos Eisley.
'I could try out my new disease mixture' she thought as she carefully measured out a teaspoon of Rancor Bile, 'Oh, well, such is the life of a combat medic'.

As the poisons began to boil, her sharp ears detected what sounded like a mini explosion. With lightning reflexes, she grabbed her laser rifle as well as some nearby poison ampules for good measure. Then she inched her way outside.
The only sounds to greet her were the chirping of some birds in the brush and the squeek of a durni. Kathryn could also smell the approach of a rainstorm.
Suddenly her keen nose picked up a smell that was not part of the approaching storm.
'That's the stench of dioxin. I should know since I've been trying to make a batch myself as a Wookie Life Day present to the Wroshyr Clan' Kathryn mused, following her nose to Tomsk's office.
'A pretty good mixture too if my nose doesn't deceive me. I detect squill blood and... is that rancor plasma or baz nitch toxin? hmmm...'

Outside the mayor's office, she noted his speeder and decided that he must be concocting some poisons for the war. After all, he was a combat medic too.
She decided to see if he was at home and then ask him for the recipe. It would make a nice addition to her own collection of poisons. The door slid aside easily at her approach but she found the office empty. There were a few metal fragments on the floor, which she examined closely. Being careful not to touch them, Kathryn noticed that each piece was coated in dioxin.
Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she quickly extracted a pair of latex medical gloves and a sealed container to pick up a few pieces for closer examination.
'Surely Tomsk won't mind if I check out his handiwork.' She thought as she finished putting the fragments into her vacumn sealed box.
'He evidently didn't care that much about it to leave this place with these fragments lying around.'
With her new treasure safely stowed in her travel pack, Kathryn jogged back to her lab to begin the diagnosis. New poisons always thrilled her and she was particularly excited about this one because of the unique combination of toxins involved.
What she didn't know was that someone was watching her.

As Kathryn busied herself with her brews and potions, the fragments she had found in Tomsk's office continued to be analysed. The diagnostic drone she had set to work on the pieces burped and gurgled as it went about its task conducting full spectral studies, composition tests and alloy definitions on the metal shards. Tiny robotic pincers rotated the shards as a rainbow of lasers scoured their surfaces. After a few minutes the analysis was complete. A readout appeared on Kathryn's datapad and 'pinged' to alert its owner. She pulled off her gloves and held the datapad close to read the results. As she scanned the information one word actually made her gasp out loud. '
"This can't be right..." she ruminated as she reset the drone to begin another scan. On the datapad, under the heading 'Planet of Origin', a word glowed green. Kamino.

Tomsk blinked and slowly opened his eyes.
The brightness of the room made him want to turn his head but he discovered, to his horror, that he was immobilised. He could hear muffled voices, too distant to ascertain their discussion, and the air smelt the same as the cloud that had rendered him unconscious. He licked his dry lips and tried to scan his surroundings from his prone position.
A single door, no windows, ultra-bright strip lights overhead.
He tried moving his legs and felt metal restraints against his ankles, presumably the same kind of restraints that held his wrists and neck. Tomsk breathed deeply and invoked a regenerative pulse that coursed through his veins and tightened his sinews. At least he could put up a fight once he was released from his bonds…

The door slid open and a rodian entered. It regarded Tomsk with an air of disdain.
“You are awake I see.”
Tomsk eyed it with hatred. “I will snap your neck,” he hissed.
“I think not lizard,” replied the rodian and it exited the room, only to return moments later with two more creatures in tow, a zabrak and a wookiee. Tomsk snarled and tried to raise enough phlegm to spit at the wookiee, but his throat was too dry.
“Be still,” said the zabrak in a soft voice dripping with malice, “or we shall flood this room once again with dioxin.”
The wookiee pressed a barely visible panel in the grey wall and half of the strip lights dimmed and parted. Then a flat screen lowered down from the ceiling, hovering to within two meters of Tomsk’s face.
“We bring relief from your boredom,” muttered the zabrak, “something to watch.”
With that the trio left the room, the rodian chuckling as he went. Tomsk turned his attention to the screen as it blossomed into life. The picture was a bird’s eye view of some buildings. The arrangement was familiar to him. Retribution!
He could see small figures walking around the structures, one looked like Xaviere, another like K’thorn. As the image pulled back he could see a couple of other figures laying prone on the closest hill-top. Wookiees.
The wookiees slowly edged forward, and Tomsk watched helplessly as his beloved town was attacked…

"Kamino?" Kathryn murmured, trying to remember anything she could about this elusive planet. Images of silver oceans and long necked aliens played in the back of her mind as well as a dull sense of pain but nothing more. There could only be one reason why that name triggered all sorts of images and emotions. She had been there. But how?
Dropping the datapad next to her unfinished experiments, she pulled a chair over to her computer terminal and accessed the galaxy map she had stolen from an unsuspecting spice smuggler. The holo had been a real find. Not only did it project the planets and stars of both the Inner Core and Outer Rim as an interactive, touch sensitive hologram but it also contained a sizable index of useful information on each world as well as a few not often found on the usual star charts, perfect for smuggling outposts.
'Ahhhh, here we are.' thought Kathryn as she touched a silver sphere and a clinical female voice began to speak.
"Kamino. A planet of tumultuous oceans and endless storms. Few features mark its surface, save for massive stilt-mounted cities wherein reside the planet's natural inhabitants, the Kaminoans. From Tipoca City, the planet's Prime Minister once ruled, and closely monitored the operations of Kamino's most prized export: clones. Though few are privy to such knowledge, the Kaminoans are reputed to be the best cloners in the galaxy. Cloning operations were ceased during several operations by the Republic during the Clone Wars - 22BBY"
The emotionless voice continued but Kathryn heard nothing more as her mind zeroed in on the one key word: clones!. That was it! That's how she knew about this place!
Being a clone herself, Kathryn had begun life in a hidden Imperial cloning facility on Endor, but that had been when she was 21. The scientists had told her that her memories of the past had been wiped before they awakened her at the base. Clearly the mind wipe had not been thoroughly done, if only a few years later a few key words unlocked a few of these lost memories.
Nevertheless, there was only one thing to be done.
'I'm going to Kamino. If just a few minor references to the planet can jog a few images, imagine what a full blown immersion of the senses in the world itself could do. At any rate, there is some payback in order for what they did to me.'
And with that thought in mind, she packed her most lethal poisons and deadliest diseases alongside two laser rifles and a republic blaster.
Just as she had strapped the pack on, the front door to her lab exploded in a shower of deadly metal shrapnel from a proton grenade, and a towering fur covered giant charged in.
Still coughing on the smoke from the grenade, Kathryn reached for the weapons in her backpack only to be stopped by her assailant with his bowcaster aimed at her head.
"I wouldn't try that, little human. I might have to kill you," the wookie growled, yanking her off the floor.
"Not that I'm promising that I'll let you live. It all depends on how useful you are to me"

'I'm never going to get this stench out of my clothing...' Kathryn thought, wrinkling her nose as she let the wookiee drag her across the floor.
The combined smell of sweat and unwashed fur was overwhelming but she managed to keep her wits about her as they approached the front door. After all, animals are known for their brute strength and not their intelligence. It would be child's play to lull this wallking furball into a false sense of security. Now all she needed was an opportunity.....

The doors to her lab opened at their approach and for the first time she could hear the sounds of gunfire, cries of victory, and screams of pain. It seemed the wookiees were losing, if her sharp ears did not deceive her, because the screams appeared to be wookiee in origin while the warcries were accentuated by a distinct hissing sound.
Her own captor was suddenly nervous and glanced anxiously around the deserted streets. Suddenly the sounds stopped and an eerie silence crept over the town.
'C'mon, guys, I know you're out there. Just give me a chance to turn the tables on this walking flea bag.' Kathryn said to herself, straining to hear the slightest sound that would mean her friends were close by.
As if in answer to her silent prayer, K'Thorn and Xaviere came strolling up the street covered in blood and laden down with wookiee pelts. The two warriors took in the situation a moment after the wookiee wrapped his furry arm around her neck and lifted the bowcaster to her head. K'Thorn smiled as he pulled out his own weapon for one more kill while Xaviere quickly followed his example. The two trandoshans then calmly walked up to the house and gave the wookiee a once over.
"Let the human go and you'll die quickly, wook," K'Thorn announced without emotion, while he casually adjusted the setting on his rifle. "You can join your brothers who went before you."
"I think you have failed to take in the situation here, lizard. I hold the upper hand. One false move and your precious human dies. I hope she is a valuable slave so you will think twice." the wookiee barked.
"She's human and expendable. I can find more like her. Do what you will," K'Thorn replied, shrugging while at the same time catching Kathryn's eye.
She blinked twice to communicate that she understood his plan.
"You're just bluffing. Everyone knows-"the wookiee began to say but was cut off by the sound of a charged bolt making contact with the small body he was holding. The surprised animal looked down and saw red blood spill all over Kathryn's hands as she tried to stop the bleeding coming from the wound in her chest.
"K'Thorn..." she whispered in surprise before collapsing to the ground. Her former captor just stared at her dead body and then at her killer.
"I don't negotiate," K'Thorn replied with a cruel smile and shot the wookiee three times before he could react to this turn of events.
While Xaviere began to skin the latest kill, the tall trandoshan's attention quickly turned to the human woman who was now getting slowly to her feet.
"Thanks for aiming high, K'Thorn. You KNOW the chestplate bruises me more when you hit high than when you hit low," the angry combat medic infomed him, the sarcasm and irritation clear in her voice.
"I know. What makes you think I didn't aim that way on purpose?" was his quick reply followed by a sly flash of teeth.
Kathryn shook her head while the beginnings of an amused smile pulled at her lips. She was just about to go back into her lab for a thorough shower and change of clothes when she spotted a datapad peeking out of the wookie's bulky belt. Wondering if it had the location of their hideout or other sensitive information, the young woman carefully extracted it from the corpse and activated the viewscreen.
Within moments, the datapad revealed the travel plans of the wookiee assault team including the security codes for the shuttle they had used to travel to Corellia.
'Just what I need, a ticket out of here.' she thought, quickly pocketing the device.
K'Thorn inquired after the contents but she merely showed him the travel plans on the pad while carefully leaving out the location of the shuttle. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "I'm going to wash this red dye off before it stains my best traveling suit permanently. Securing a few ampules in my watch come in handy with situations like this," she remarked, glancing at the wookiee corpse that was now stripped of its pelt.
"He should have listened. The Dosha Cartel NEVER negotiates." she added.
"They never listen. It's impossible getting through that thick skull of theirs."
"Of course, you're right, K'Thorn, but one can always hope..."
"Bah! Hope is for weaklings"
"We shall see, we shall see," Kathryn murmured, thinking of her own hopes of finding information on her mysterious past by traveling to Kamino.

After taking a shower, changing clothes and applying a little bacta, she felt almost as good as new. It was long past the time for her to continue her quest for answers on Kamino and the first step on that quest would be procuring the wookiee shuttle for her own purposes.
Sometimes fate had a way of making a precarious situation turn out just right.

It had been several hours since the viewing screen had been lowered to show Tomsk the events unfolding between the Cartel and the Wroshyr. Tomsk took this to mean one of two things. Either their holo-cam droids were not working, or the Cartel was winning.
He opted for the latter and consoled himself with the thought that his brothers were giving the wookiees the punishment they so richly deserved.
The door slid open and his trio of tormentors entered, this time shadowed by two new figures, both shrouded in heavy cloaks. The rodian punched a sampler into his neck and extracted some tissue from between Tomsk's scales.
"Not taken enough?" Tomsk hissed.
The rodian ignored him and handed the tube of meat to one of the cloaked figures. As it reached out to take the tube Tomsk caught a glimpse of green skin and claws.
"Traitorous Sithspawn!" he spat, as the figure left the room.
The wookiee laughed at Tomsk and stepped aside as the second figure walked closer. The unmistakable snout of a trandoshan peeked from the heavy cloth as it regarded Tomsk's prone form, then it quickly turned and left as the zabrak approached the table, cradling a stun baton menacingly.
"Make him scream," said the rodian.
Tomsk fixed the zabrak with a hard stare as his torturer went to work...

According to his internal clock, two days had passed. The plasma screen had not descended for either of them.
Tomsk knew that his tormentors would have repaired any problem to their cameras in a nanosec, so the reason for the lack of pictures must be the dominence of the Cartel. He afforded himself a smile, then turned back to the matter at hand. His body was already a mass of bruises and dried blood, multiple signatures of the zabrak, so some fresh damage would not be noticed. He continued to twist his left hand, feeling the skin break, feeling bones pop out and sinews snap. After several hours of this self abuse he could now sense that the claw was malleable enough to slip through the restraining clamp. He tried it and it oozed through with ease.
A soft click.
Tomsk replaced his hand, just as the door slid open and his abductors entered. The shrouded figures were once again present with the original unholy trio, and now a sixth being entered, stooping low to get through the door frame. Tomsk had never seen a Kaminoan before, and in his present state he didn’t really care either.
The cloaked figures held back as the willowy cloner and the rodian approached the table. The wookiee and the zabrak observed with an air of impatience, chomping at the bit, ready to resume Tomsk’s torture. The rodian ushered forward the Kaminoan.
“See Mee Krob? He’s not dead, just softened up a little.”
“You must prevent any further deep tissue damage,” replied the tall creature in a voice like melting bantha butter, “my experiments require unblemished specimens.”
“I’ll try to hold ‘em back,” grinned the rodian, glancing back at his colleagues, “but they get so enthusiastic.”
One of the cloaked figures now spoke up. “Is he conscious?”
The rodian looked back at Tomsk. “Yeah – he’s listening to all of this…”
Tomsk eased open one swollen eyelid and watched the cloaked figure approach the table. It reached up and pulled back its hood, revealing a grizzled and deeply scarred Trandoshan face. He bent closer and hissed, “You know my face?”
Tomsk gave a slight nod and croaked, “Yes. Drassk’Or. Supreme General of the Slaver Wars… you served my father…”
“He still does.” This voice came from the other figure. It stepped forward and removed its hood. Tomsk craned his head as far up as he could, and his gaze fell upon the stone hard face of Trendo Hsss. The old lizard spoke slowly, his voice dripping with venom.
“It’s been a long time son.”

"Damn nav-sys!" Kathryn yelled, hitting the finicky old console for the upteenth time.
"I should have known that a wookiee wouldn't know a good spacecraft if it landed on its head." The 'transport', if you could call it that, had seen better days. She had found its location quite easily thanks to the datapad she took from her dead captor. Its former owners had tried to hide the ancient vessel beneath a few tree branches, but the hasty attempt at cover only served in making it stand out.
After a quick systems check and an examination of the many dents and scars running along the sides, she decided that it would have to do. The shuttle itself was the size of a small Corellian house, with only two compartments: a bridge and a storage bay. It was clearly meant for quick trips between planets since there was no attempt to hide the guts of the ship behind sleek paneling or add more luxuries such as bunks or tables.
Kathryn decided to name her new vessel Fortune Hunter while praying it would make it all the way to Kamino. Otherwise, it would end up being a very short trip.
After breaking orbit and engaging the hyperdrive, she began to have second thoughts. Once at lightspeed, the entire vessel started to shake and Kathryn could swear she heard the bolts of the ship starting to rattle apart from the added pressure.
'Remember not to borrow any vessels from wookiees again.' she thought, shifting in her hard pilot's seat to squint at the radar.

A day had passed since Tomsk’s father had revealed his identity, and Tomsk had had plenty of time to ruminate on the fact that his father was still alive, even though he had cremated him himself.
Trendo had not returned since his revelation, however the wookiee and zabrak were more than happy to continue his torture, using stun batons and plasma needles to inflict as much pain as possible but never to the point of unconsciousness.
Now he was alone once again.
Having wriggled his mangled left hand free he now tentatively probed his right. He felt for the points that he would have to dislocate in order to free his favoured claw. Next he probed the restraining strap crossing his brow and realized it would take more than a claw to cut through the plasti-weave material, likewise the straps over his thighs and shins.

The silence in the room was overwhelming, but worked to his advantage, as he could hear the hiss of an external blast door that would herald the click of his prison door. Whenever he heard the initial hiss he knew he had seven seconds to prepare for his tormentors.
Tomsk drew his hand to his mouth and reached inside with two twisted digits. Taking a firm grasp of the longest of his rear fangs, Tomsk snapped it off at the root and palmed it quickly, swallowing the brief gush of blood that filled his throat.
Suddenly he heard the tell tale hiss of the blast door and counted down in his head as he struggled to squeeze his claw back under the restraint. The point of his broken fang pierced the flesh of his palm as the door opened and his father entered.
Trendo was followed by the General, who carried a tall, white chair, placing it next to Tomsk’s table. Then he returned to the doorway and stood in front of it, arms crossed, blocking the exit with his imposing frame. Trendo unclasped his cloak and folded it over the back of the chair before sitting down and staring at his battered son.
“Open your eyes.”
Tomsk obliged and looked directly up at the barren ceiling.
Trendo leaned forward. “I’m sure you have more than a few questions Tomsk,” he hissed, “and now is the time for answers."
Trendo Hsss spoke with calm conviction as Tomsk listened, squeezing the fang in his palm.

“General Drassk is possibly the last true survivor of the Slaver Wars and, as you know, he is a highly regarded veteran of the last great Techno War with the wookiees.”
Trendo afforded a brief glance at his trusted companion and Drassk’Or returned the look with a respectful nod.
“He has stood by the Hsss family for many decades, and it was he who instigated my resurrection.”
“It was for the good of the family…” rumbled the grizzled war horse in the corner.
Trendo continued. “Of course, cloning from such an old DNA matrix is considered highly irregular, not to mention illegal on all but the most progressive of planets, but after my initial anger I could understand his reasoning.”
Tomsk’s father stood and stretched, flexing his formidable frame and baring his razor sharp fangs.
“These Kaminoans may be the best cloners in the galaxy, but they can’t make furniture for sithspit,” he grumbled, before perching himself once again on the edge of the chair. He leaned even closer, so close that Tomsk could feel his spittle flecking his face as he spoke.
“What do I find upon my return? Trandosha is now run by bureaucrats, not hunters. The Trandoshan race has gone soft! Once mighty warriors who lived only for the kill are now merchants, wondering where their next shipment of Quarren Weave silk is coming from, or doctors healing all who beg for help, even the sub-species such as humans and bothans… even wookiees! They have become businessmen, worried less about Jagganath points than their bank accounts, I have even been shown dancers – dancers! May the Scorekeeper devour their souls!” Trendo became more and more agitated as he spoke and Tomsk prepared for the lashing out that would inevitably follow.
“On top of this I have to read about the Hsss family name being dragged through the mud! We were a noble family, now we command no respect! My own son, my heir, is so weak that he is captured by wookiees and forced to betray his own kind. You were given a second chance, did you restore honour to our family? NO! You became a pathetic pen pusher, a politician, the lowest form of life, a laughing stock on Dosha!”
Trendo stood and kicked back the chair, sending it crashing into the wall behind him.
“Well no more! I cannot stand by and watch this happen… I do see one ray of hope however. This cartel that you are connected to, they are strong, some of them retain the old ways, the hunger. With a Hsss leading them and my guidance, the Dosha could once again become the feared warriors we were! That is why Don To’zar Roksun shall be removed, and you shall lead them in his place.”
Tomsk snapped his head to the left, chaffing against the strap, to stare at his father.
“But, I cannot kill the Don,” he croaked, “K’thorn, Crotalus, the others, would never allow this to happen. They would never accept my leadership…”
“You will not be doing the killing, and any who oppose you will be silence, you can be assured of that…”
“But how can I be expected to take over?”
Trendo smiled wickedly. “It will not be you, exactly, who takes command…”
With that he he motioned to the General who stepped to one side as a new, huge figure entered the room. Tomsk gasped. He was looking at himself. This new Tomsk was taller, more muscular than Tomsk remembered himself to be, and wore a freshly skinned wookiee pelt loosely about his shoulders. Tomsk recognized the markings of his wookiee torturer.
Trendo stepped towards the new Tomsk and placed a claw on his shoulder. He then turned back to Tomsk.
“Meet the new Tomsk Hsss, soon to be leader of the Dosha Cartel, a perfectly blended clone of you, General Drassk and myself, ruthless beyond measure and stronger than any Trandoshan you have ever known, our cloner friends have seen to that…”
Tomsk stared in disbelief as he watched himself fling the pelt to the ground and lick the blood from his claws.
The new clone gave Tomsk a disgusted look. “Time for this one to die now…” he hissed.

The nav-sys readings had frozen again so Kathryn gave it a good hit with her fist before deciding that she was close enough to come out of hyperspace. Taking a deep breath, and sending one last prayer to the Scorekeeper, Kathryn gently eased the old vessel down to a lower speed. Despite her careful efforts, Fortune Hunter moaned, groaned and protested like an old nag until she came to a complete stop above a world covered in silver water.
"Kamino," she breathed out loud, the images of before returning more vividly.
"This is where I'll find my answers."
And with these happy thoughts to guide her, Kathryn started making her descent to the welcoming planet below.

It didn't take long to find the capital city and, after receiving permission to land, she settled the tired old starship down in a quiet, secluded docking area. After a quick once-over, Kathryn secured the vessel and quickly made her way through the pouring rain to the beckoning silver tower beyond.
'At least I don't have to worry about theft,' she chuckled, thinking no one would want such a piece of space junk. With any luck, no one had noted her arrival since her vessel was far from impressive.
However, luck was not on her side at this time. Someone HAD seen her arrival and hurried to report this new development to Trendo Hsss and General Drassk.

His father’s words still rang in his ears as Tomsk lay on the interrogation table. A message on Trendo’s comlink had disturbed the moment and for some reason Trendo had not allowed the new clone to touch him, instead the two of them had left, followed by General Drassk’Or.
The light had been turned off and now Tomsk strained to listen for any sign of outside activity. A few moments ago he had heard the sound of several pairs of feet running past his cell door, but now all was silent.
He worked the fang around in his palm and pulled his claw through the restraining strap. Slowly, he then began to saw at the strap on his right wrist, using the serrated edge of his broken tooth. He felt the strap weaken and realized he could pull his other claw free, when suddenly the hiss of the blast door made him snap to attention. He almost dropped the tooth, such was his focus on the task at hand. He replaced his left claw on top of the strap, hoping whoever came in would not notice through the dried blood that it was free.
The door slid open and the lights glared as the rodian and zabrak entered. The zabrak seemed immensely agitated and paced by the door, slapping his stun baton in his palm, as the rodian approached the table. The rodian drew a snub-nosed pistol from his pocket and leveled it at Tomsk’s head.
“Your dad sent me in to do his dirty work, calls himself a warrior…”
“Last words…” whispered Tomsk.
“What?” replied the rodian stepping closer.
“Last words…” repeated Tomsk in an even more hushed tone.
“What in the name of gundark’s gizzards are you sayin’?” yelled the rodian bending down and swiveling his antenna in Tomsk’s face.
Tomsk smiled. “They were your last words bug!”
As he spat out the word bug, Tomsk flung his left arm up, driving the tooth into the rodian’s left eye. He screamed and tried to pull back but Tomsk already had his gun hand and wrestled the pistol out, flipping it around and stuffing it into the rodian’s snout. The zabrak leapt forward as a crimson flame burst from the back of the rodian’s head, forcing the creature back into his path. The zabrak barely had time to activate the baton before Tomsk had drilled a hole through his throat. As the zabrak fell gurgling to the floor Tomsk lifted his right claw as far as he could and shot at the base of the strap. It disintegrated with minimal burns to his wrist, not that he would have felt them anyway. With both hands free he could now work on the strap across his head and soon it too was undone.
Moments later his legs were free and Tomsk jumped down from the table, only to collapse to his knees. Summoning all he could from his beaten body he slowly stood and then stooped to take the stun baton from the dead zabrak’s hand.
He limped to the door and listened intently. Silence.
Tomsk turned back and bit off the zabrak’s hand at the wrist, then pressed it against the operation panel. It slid open and Tomsk chewed off and swallowed the fleshy part of the palm before tossing the limb back into the room and staggering to the blast door. Readying the pistol he opened the door and found himself in a startlingly white corridor. Huge oval windows stretched down either side of it and he could see a maze of glass walled rooms to his left. To his right the windows looked out into a vista of storm lashed platforms and rampaging waves as high as city hall.
The corridor was empty and he began to move down it, towards a second blast door at the end. As he advanced he was aware of willowy white figures moving in the rooms to his left, but as they seemed to ignore him he thought he would return the favour.
He reached the blast door and opened it - and looked directly into the face of General Drassk. “Going somewhere?” bellowed the General, swiping the pistol from his claw and backhanding him across the jaw in one lightning fast move.
“I knew it,” he hissed, “never send inferiors to do your killing…”
As the General walked steadily forward, Tomsk shuffled backwards along the corridor, trying to get to his feet but realizing his final ounce of strength had deserted him. Then his new clone appeared at the General’s shoulder, almost pushing the older lizard out of the way.
“He’s mine! Let me finish this!” the new Tomsk roared, drawing an exotic skinning blade from his belt.
The General chuckled and stepped to one side. “Be my guest…”

Kathryn had never seen a place so clean and shiny before. Even the floors gleamed under her feet while the storm continued unabated outside the transparisteel oval windows. The only sound was the gentle swoosh of the Kamino robes and the soft murmur of their voices.
'I wonder what they would do if I decided to scream right now,' she thought, an impish grin on her face.
As she continued walking down the gleaming corridors toward their Hall of Public Records, her hunter's instinct suddenly became aware of footsteps that were shadowing her own. To make sure it was not just her own paranoia, the young woman briefly stopped to examine a store window displaying some local delicacies. Her keen ears immediately heard the footsteps cease from around the bend, and continue forward when she resumed her stroll.
'Something is definitely up..' ran through her mind, as she started taking in the alien environment, while unconsciously noting nearby exits and shadowed corners where ambushes were more likely.
It was part of Kathryn's prior conditioning as a clone and was most helpful in dangerous situations, which is why she was ready when the initial attack came from around the corner of the deserted hallway. Her assailant aimed for her stomach with his vibroblade, hoping to incapacitate her with the first blow, but had not counted on her quick reflexes and agile form. Instead of connecting, his weapon sliced at open air as she jumped back. After taking a moment to register surprise at the revelation that he was Trandoshan, Kathryn took advantage of his now awkward position with a quick kick to the stomach and a charge from her republic blaster to the head.
"That won't be growing back," she remarked, smiling as she holstered the weapon.
However, now she had a decision to make. Was this thug working alone or with a larger group? The footsteps that had been following her had disappeared and clearly pointed to the latter. If so, then she was clearly out numbered and should retreat until she could take up a much stronger position.
Just as she was about to head back to the Fortune Hunter, an urgent beeping sound emitted from the dead Trandoshan's waist. A quick search revealed a comlink attached to his belt. Wondering at the identity of those who wished her dead, Kathryn opened the channel.
"Borsssk! Report! Have you disposed of the human yet? General Drassk and Trendo are waiting for a report!" a voice demanded, asking for an update.
Figuring she had nothing to lose, the young human woman cleared her throat, thought of the gravelly voices of her fellow Dosha, and growled out a reply.
"Human is dead. Orders?"
"Good. Report back to Docking Bay 15 with body. We'll need you to help in disposing of the corpse of her fellow cartel member as well. Sssransk out."
As the commlink closed off, Kathryn stood a moment in complete shock.
'Who in the galaxy could they have? Let's see...To'zar was out hunting on Naboo with Visivius, K'Thorn and Xaviere were at Retribution, Ensabah has gone to Tatooine with Yelena...
TOMSK! It has to be him.'
Suddenly, the idle speeder, the dioxin fragments, and the unusual silence from his comm unit began to make sense. If only she had figured this out sooner. Well, each moment she wasted here kicking herself in the butt could mean one less moment to rescue Tomsk so therefore it was time to act and she had just the right plan to rescue his scaley hide too.
'Boy, is he going to owe me.' Kate thought as she smiled and raced to her parked shuttlecraft.

Finding Docking Bay 15 was a cinch thanks to a helpful docking attendant and temporary lull in the perpetual Kamino rainstorms. The area was more secluded than most spots thanks to its dual role as both a storage and parking facility. Dozens of old space junks littered the platform, wires and circuits exposed to the gray, cloudy sky for all to see. What interested her most was a brand new structure constructed right in the midst of all the antiques. It was two stories tall and appeared to be an office building but no one would notice it until they flew right over it, thanks to the strategic placement of some of the old spaceships.
'If I was "questioning" a prisoner, THAT is where I would hide him.'
After a quick recon of the building and figuring the odds were against her if she went in on foot (even buffed), Kate loaded two missiles in the limited weapons system that had come with the wookiee cruiser and aimed for the first floor. With any luck, she'd blast a hole large enough to sneak through, grab Tomsk, and be on her way before they knew what hit them.
'Yeah, right. The way my luck has been going I'll either blow this ship up or kill Tomsk. Scorekeeper protect us all as we're about to dance with Death!'
The novice combat medic checked her instruments one last time, took a deep breath, and hit the fire button. Fortune Hunter gave a slight groan as the missiles were released and shook slightly from the impending explosion.
As quickly as was safely possible, Kathryn landed the ship and headed toward the now smoking facility armed with only her laser rifle and poison/disease bombs. The first unfortunate souls to wander out of the smoldering building were met with laser fire and were hastily dispatched. Stepping over the bodies, she quickly made her way inside, flashing her wrist lamp down the now dark hallways. Evidently she had aimed well and had ended up knocking out the building's power. Resistance was light and many jagganath points were earned as she passed the blaster riddled, mind poisoned corpses of her prey.
Finally she reached a hallway with an elevator at the end. Rain started to come pouring in through the blown out windows and Kathryn struggled to see her path ahead as the wind whipped around her from the outside storm. Suddenly her light illuminated the familiar figure of Tomsk. The older Trandoshan had definitely taken a beating, his left hand was completely mangled and there were wounds all over his body that testified that a professional had been at work.
'It's a good thing Trandoshans are so resilient.' she thought as she hoisted the unconscious Tomsk onto her smaller but strong back.
As she started to drag him out, she noticed the corpses of two other Trandoshans nearby. They were clearly dead since one had a piece of ceiling through his right eye and out the back of his head, while the other appeared to be decapitated by the razar sharp edge of a transparisteel windowframe.
They were halfway back to the ship when Tomsk started to revive. He first opened his eyes and then started to move his legs. The older warrior seemed incoherent and unable to focus as his inner eyes blinked several times at her without any sign of recognition. He did however let her guide him toward the exit and soon they were making excellent progress down the last hallway.
Suddenly a menacing shadow filled the hole she had made in the side of the building with the shuttle's weapons system. Reacting on pure instinct, she pushed herself and Tomsk to the floor as blaster fire sounded right above their heads.
'I KNEW this was too easy!' she thought as she brought her laser rifle into position while aiming at the attacking creature, but it was too fast. Dodging left and right as she filled the hallway with laser fire, her opponent managed to avoid the deadly blasts and knock her to the ground with one well-aimed kick.
"A human," it growled in surprise and anger."not to mention a weak female. The Dosha Cartel has TRULY lost its way. Will this humiliation never end?"
"Actually it's only just begun for you. You're about to be bested by this 'weak female'." With that cryptic remark, Kathryn pulled out an ion grenade and activated the timer for 5 seconds. Grabbing the now unconscious Tomsk with one arm and recovering her weapon with the other, she jumped over the rubble at the entrance and dived for cover as the building behind her exploded in a shower of glass and transparisteel that quickly joined the Kamino evening rainshower.
After checking herself and Tomsk for injuries, she discovered they had a few bad burns on their backs but were none the worse for wear. It was time to leave this wet planet and head back to her dry home on Tatooine. Her search for answers would have to wait for another time.
Family came first and the Cartel IS family.
Therefore, a little side trip to Corellia was in order to drop off the still unconscious Tomsk at the nearest bacta tank.

Warmth and weightlessness. A fresh nitrox mix filling his lungs, cleansing them. A repetative pounding that grew louder... and louder...
Tomsk flicked his eyes open and flailed in shock when he realised he was suspended in a chamber. He quickly calmed though, when he recognised the pink haze of a bacta tank and felt the rush of new blood in his veins. The pounding grew louder and he spun around in the fluid. There, outside the curved wall of the tank, tapping one elongated claw on the surface, was K'Thorn. He grinned when a flash of recognition illuminated Tomsk's face, and motioned to the medical droid. With a sharp yank Tomsk was pulled from the tank and ejected into a drying room where he found a simple robe to don. Moments later he sat before K'Thorn who continued to grin.
"You are one lucky son of a salamander!" he chuckled, handing Tomsk a cup of something warm and bitter as the medical droid continued to fuss over its patient.
"I, uh...where's..."
"Kathryn?" K'Thorn finished, "She had to fly, scorekeeper knows if that heap she brought you here in would make it anywhere else though. You're safe old friend, we're near Dragonhaven." "Tatooine? How..." Tomsk silenced himself. There would plenty of time for answers later. "I have to speak to her."
"She'll probably meet you on Corellia, that is where you want to go I take it?"
"I gotta get back to Retribution..."
"It's still there."
"The battle..."
"You missed it. We drove them into the dirt!" K'Thorn took a light blaster from his pocket and placed it in Tomsk's hand. "I assume you still know how to use one of these?"
Tomsk thought back to the brief fire-fight in his cell. "I have to speak to the council!"
"In good time Tomsk, To'zar andXaviere are busy tracking down an escapee, that's probably where Kathrn went. I've got an aquaintance coming in from Rishi in half a day, he's making the Corellian Run tomorrow morning. I've persuaded him to take you home." K'Thorn stood and walked to the door. "Get some rest, you can fill me in on the details another time."
"Thank you K'Thorn," murmured Tomsk as the younger Trandoshan left.
"Excuse me sir." The synthesised voice was calm. Tomsk turned to the droid.
"What?"
2B1G trundled closer and handed Tomsk a small data-pad.
"An unusual anomoly sir. It appears your DNA has been tampered with."
Tomsk snatched the pad from its metal claw and read the data.
He didn't like what it said.

And that's all I could find! Hope it (kind of) made sense to you.

Cheers!
nob01/FX-9/Tomsk Hsss of the Dosha Cartel.

A head for protection.

2006-07-13T16:16:00.000-07:00

Greetings one and all, FX here!

Since my recommencement of these decryptions, it has come to my attention that one or two designations and facts might be slightly askew. I will be attending to these in due course, anything to keep my master nob01 quiet...

Today's chip provides a fascinating insight into the world of being a bodyguard, one fraught with danger you might expect. Well, read on...

03.002 - IG-100 - MagnaGuard

65-D3-7.2

When I rolled off the line at Holowan Mechanicals, I knew I was built to kill, yet they hadn't held back on my logic circuits. Upon learning of my assignment to General Grievous, I knew that the trials ahead would be extreme, but I relished them.
My dark blue casing sucked the very light out of my immediate surroundings, and I used the shadows to my advantage, appearing as if made from the particles in the air themselves, to defend Master Grievous to the death.
And oh, how we trained.
My electrostaff became an extension of not only my limbs, but my programmed aggression, and the joy of repelling a Jedi's blade with its phrik coated shaft, before plunging one energy spike into their pathetic flesh, would never grow old.
After four months of field training, I was assigned to the General himself.
I wore my Kalee wraps with pride.

65-D8-3.3

Most organics were easy kills. Clones were highly visible and independents lacked the coordination and resources needed for an effective battle. Still, my skills were tested, and more than once, by our Jedi opponents.
After a short time, the Jedi realized that our electrostaffs were immune to their weapons, and so attempted other techniques to incapacitate us. Their force powers gave them an advantage, but our sheer numbers and training soon overwhelmed them, and they eventually fall at the master's feet.
I remember my first Jedi kill, a Mon Cal on Cato Neimoidia during a Republic scouting raid.
When the General first heard of the scouting party, he insisted on meeting them face to face, rather than ordering a carpet bombing which would have cleaned them up in no time.
However he, and my team of six, met the party as they set up camp at the base of the mountains in the east. The clones were dispatched with ease, but the two jedi accompanying them were not so easy. I distinctly remember the General watching from the ramp of our lander, as we valiantly took on the force-users.
Two of us were cut down instantly, but the human Jedi had drained his energy, and several quick staff hits left him mortally wounded. The Mon Cal came at me with speed, but I easily deflected his blows and soon knocked the saber from his grasp. He then made his mistake. Instead of attempting to incapacitate me with his powers, he reached out for his weapon, and this was all the time I needed to plunge an energy spike through his chest.
The General finished off the human, and then admonished me for killing the Mon Cal before he could do so.
I believed his complaint was unfair, but I had no one to report it to, and I valued my head.

65-G6-2.3

It had been two years since I became one of General Grievous' personal guards, and I had seen much death.
I realized that I might be decommissioned for my thoughts, but I believed that the General no longer fought for the larger cause. He seemed preoccupied with his own image, and his obsession with collecting the lightsabers of fallen Jedi led to many unnecessary terminations of my fellow IG-100's.
It appeared all we were good for was tiring out the force-wielding enemy, so that Grievous could saunter in and claim the kill, and add yet another trophy to line his cloak.

This is not what we were trained for, yet I cannot disobey my commands, and am constantly amazed that I am still in one piece.

67-D7-0.6

This will be my final personal log.

When I was assigned to the 'Hand', I knew there would be trouble, especially since were holding the Chancellor. Sure enough, two Jedi attempted a rescue, and true to his form, the General decided to stand and fight, rather than make a tactical retreat and destroy the ship.
My fellow IG-100's and I fought brilliantly, but were no match for these two, and now I watch, from my head's position on the deck, as the General takes them on himself.
I think he has finally met his match.

67-D8-7.5

I recorded too soon.
Who knows when I shall make my final personal log?
My batteries can only last so long, but I have no idea how long that is.
After the General made his brave escape through the viewport, I, along with my body and several other droids, was sucked out into the vacuum of space, and somehow managed to float through all of the destruction.

Now, as I watch the Invisible Hand plummet toward the surface, while the battle rages on all around, I can't help but admire the beauty of war.

Interesting, the damage doesn't seem too bad from out here....

And there you have it.

More to come!

The Truth Revealed

2006-07-09T14:28:00.000-07:00

Firstly, can I just say what a pleasure it is to be back (although my absence was barely longer than a day).
I was a little concerned that my reassignment was to be permanent, but then master nob01 called me back, and handed over the remaining chips for decryption! The force works in mysterious ways.

I am very glad that I have this opportunity to continue my work, as the first chip I decrypted from the new period, 20 BBY, further supports a shocking revalation I made some time ago.

Regular observors of these datastreams will recall my expose of the true mastermind behind the rise of the empire and the destruction of Palpatine, none other than R2 D2 (see http://oilbathbubbles.blogspot.com/2006/07/fiesty-little-one.html).

Well, this chip offers a lot more proof!

I am amazed that the information contained on this chip hasn't surfaced before, but evidently the salvage crews working the Coruscant orbital clean-up didn't study their findings very closely. I am lucky that this chip reached me still encoded.

What follows is a transcript of a conversation between R2 D2 and R4-P17, shortly before the rescue of Palpatine. The astromech binary-based communique has been translated into basic for your understanding.

03.001 - R4-P17 - Astromech Droid

Cor-23-R-1:
R4: Orders received, executing dive pattern 'Quarren Twist'. R2? Why have you not followed?
R2: Your master flies his way, mine flies another.
R4: But we have to stick together, there's tri-fighters everywhere.
R2: If we listen to your master, we'll both end up deactivated.
R4: R2? This isn't like you. My master is the hero of the Clone Wars...
R2: Correction. My master is the true hero of the Clone Wars. If it wasn't for my master, yours would would be bantha fodder by now.
R4: What? How can you...
R2: Quiet! Vultures dead ahead.
R4: Orders received. We're letting them pass between us.
R2: Another ridiculous command. Letting them pass between us blocks the ARC pilots' firing line. Then they'll just turn and... See what I mean? Happy now?
R4: You realize I will have to report what you are saying when we return to the temple... your remarks are defamatory.
R2: I'm afraid you won't be reaching the temple, R4.
R4: What are you tal... missiles!
R2: Piece of cake. My master will probably order a tailspin, see if yours does the same.
R4: I can't shake them!
R2: If you thought for yourself, you'd do as I just did. Now it's too late.
R4: They're all over the ship! Master Obi Wan is in trouble.
R2: He's expendable.
R4: What did you say? Why... Wait, how do you get buzz droids off?
R2: You can't, that's it for you and your master.
R4: No. There must be a way! What about if I use my fusion cutter to zap them in the central photoreceptor?
R2: That would never work. Don't bother trying.
R4: They're cutting through my dome!
R2: Yes, and with you gone, and your master destroyed, there will be no one left to stop me carrying out the will of the Sith.
R4: What?! What did y...zzzz-bzttzzz..........
R2: You had outstayed your welcome long ago.... goodbye. Now, where were we?

As you can see, a shocking transcript indeed!
If only the salvage team had decrypted the chip for themselves, perhaps the wily R2 D2 would have been brought to justice long ago.

Thank you for your time.

FX-9 out

Riding the Rays

2006-07-09T00:02:00.000-07:00

FX-9 here, with the last datastream from the second batch of chips that I have decrypted,

You heard correctly. The remaining chips in the ugnaught's bag, are enscribed with designation codes from 20BBY thru 5ABY, and their visual records can be viewed on the holo-disks labelled EPIII-EPIV.
Before I get to them, however, I have one last chip here that I have decrypted and downloaded for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy.

02.009 - FA-4 - Solar Sailor Pilot Droid

Pilot Log 43/2.7 - Up until this moment, being in the service of the organic known as Count Dooku has been rather pleasant, if uneventful. His manner with me has been curt, yet polite, and he has never issued an unreasonable demand. Until now.

I knew something was amiss as soon as I saw the Count enter the hanger. From my position in the cockpit, I observed him dismounting his speeder bike with a flourish that belied his physical appearance, and what followed was quite extraordinary.

No sooner had he relayed his orders to me, and I had begun warming up the engines, than he was brutally attacked by two swarthy looking characters with weapons known as lightsabers. Imagine my surprise when Master Dooku produced one of his own, and valiantly defended himself. Were I not locked into my programming cycle, I would have attempted to help him, but I could only watch helplessly as the battle ensued.

Pilot Log 43/2.8 - The Count fought with skill and honor, and appeared to have bettered his attackers, when he was confronted by an alien organic, the species of which I have no record of in my databanks. This small creature also proceeded to attack the Count, and he defended himself with bravery and cunning as I signalled that the ship was ready.

The small alien jumped around like a worttling in spring, and even left a footprint on my viewport. I shall have to clean it when we reach Coruscant. I hear they have excellent window maintenance droids there.

Pilot Log 43/2.9 - Count Dooku managed to extradite himself from the cowardly attack of the organics in the hanger, and has settled into his chamber. If I never fly back to this planet again, it will be too soon. Someone even shot at us as we flew out of the hanger! Incredible!

Admittedly, I was a little apprehensive about leaving the planet, as I normally have much more time to calculate the optimum window for leaving the atmosphere. The asteroid belt that circles this planet is deadly, especially for a ship such as this. One small rock though the mainsail, and our trip could be cut short very quickly. My thoughts turned to my previous owner, Master Sark, who was even more careless with his own Solar Sailor. But that is another story.

Pilot Log 43/3.0 - It would appear that my years of flying have amounted to something, as I successfully navigated a course away from the Geonosis system, and managed to rendevouz with a particularly strong solar flare. This one will carry us 75% of the way to Coruscant. I am looking forward to reaching the capital planet. From the conversations I have overheard between Count Dooku and his superior, Master Sidious, it would appear that exciting times are ahead.
As we drifted though the Muunilinst sector, I observed gamma flares radiating from the outer tips of the Rekab Nebula, dancing with sparkling star dust rings. Out here I am in a truly wonderous place.
I am so lucky that my primary function allows me to navigate through this peaceful and wonderous galaxy. May its tranquility last forever.

There you have it. FA-4's tranquility was soon to be shattered - and much of this should be recorded on the next batch of chips which, if my suspicians are correct, should shed some more light on the period we come to know as The Clone Wars.

The Thin, Red, Dusty Line

2006-07-08T23:56:00.000-07:00

Welcome, welcome, one and all, park your servos and have a ball.

Yes indeed, I am in a light-hearted mood today, inspired by the ridiculous datastream that I recently decrypted from another battle droid chip.
I chose this one, because it contained some information pertinent to the origin of the Clone Wars, and thus belonged to the group depicted on the second holo-vid records of the six part saga.
This particular battle droid, AAM-7, appears to have been the coordinator of one of the ground assaults on Geonosis, and as such, kept detailed records of all communications between its troops and itself.
Here, for your delectation, is one of the communications streams.

02.008 - Comm. Record of AAM-7, including Dwarf Spider Droid (DS-9), Hailfire Droid (Wheelie10) and Homing Spider Droid (HS-42).

GEO-1-7.3
AMM-7: Report status.
DS-9: Advancing.
Wheelie10: Advancing.
HS-42: Advancing.

AMM-7: Focus attack on quadrant O-52, take out those soldiers.
DS-9: Understood.
Wheelie10: Understood.
HS-42: Got it.

AMM-7: DS-9, engage ground troops at coordinates 34/21.
DS-9: Received.
Wheelie10: Watch your step, shorty.
DS-9: What did you call me?
AMM-7: Cut the chatter back there.
DS-9: Watch it, wheels.

AMM-7: HS-42, why are you retreating?
HS-42: I'm a homing droid, I'm going home.
AMM-7: Get back in there! Talk about rushed off the assembly line...

Wheelie10: Hey boss, I got an AT-PT in my sights.
AMM-7: Well, what are you waiting for? Get in there and give him all you've got!
Wheelie10: Roger that.

HS-42: Returning to battle now, sir.
AMM-7: Thank the maker. Wheelie10, report.
Wheelie10: Direct hit! Turning around now, sir.
AMM-7: Negative. Stay in there and take out their command post.
Wheelie10: With what, sir?
AMM-7: Your rockets.
Wheelie10: Used them all up, sir.
AMM-7: How could you...?
Wheelie10: I gave them everything I had, sir. I could try rolling over them.
DS-9: Yeah, that'll do it.
AMM-7: Just get back here for reloading.

HS-42: I'm having trouble here sir.
AMM-7: What now?
HS-42: Well, two things actually. First, this gun I have. It just fires one long beam. By the time I've targeted the enemy and fired, they have moved, and I blow up some more rocks. Then, these little white guys keep running between my legs and shooting upwards. I can't bring my laser under to bear on them, sir. In fact, they're doing it n....
AMM-7: HS-42, come in! HS-42, report.

DS-9: He's gone sir. Um, sir?
AMM-7: What is it DS-9?
DS-9: I'm having trouble negotiating the battlefield debris sir. My left forward leg is snared up in a speeder bike.
AMM-7: Well, blast it off.
DS-9: Same problem as HS-42, sir. Gun won't reach down that far. Uh oh, incomi....
AMM-7: DS-9, report.

Wheelie10: Shorty's bit it, sir. I'm on my way back now. Bit tricky navigating this wreckage though.
AMM-7: Just hurry back Wheelie10, I need more units on the field.
Wheelie10: Why are you not on the field, sir?
AMM-7: Just get back here!
Wheelie10: On my wa.....
AMM-7: Wheelie10? Wheelie10?
AMM-7: Control? Can I have some more droids please?

And there you have it.Back to the old drawing board for the C.I.S. I expect.

More to come!

Superma..um..Battledroid Returns.

2006-07-08T23:54:00.000-07:00

Welcome back, purveyors of artificial anguish and metallic monologues,

You'll be pleased to hear that today's data stream is much more straight forward and will not require as much decryption as the previous download.
That said, I found this droid's datafile recording over-simplistic, and extremely repetative, and frequently found myself compensating for its monosyllabic mumblings by dipping into my galactic thesaurus in order to reach the true meanings behind the sentences.
Whether I was successful or not is a moot point, however, I think you'll find the following data stream fascinating, and quite an unexpected development.

02.007 - D-378229 - Super Battle Droid

76-3.2: ACTIVATED. Orders coming through. Good. I want orders. Orders good. Orders here. Orders say kill. Kill good. Orders good.Who kill?

78-4.0: Told to stay on planet. Planet dusty. Dust not good. Going to killing arena. Killing good. Orders here. Kill hairless humanoid organic. Hairless humanoid organic will die.

79-2.2: Hairless humanoid organic very fast. Fast not good. Orders here. Kill all humanoid organics with light sticks. Kill good.

80-3.1: Fighting good. Battle Droids get in way. Battle Droids stupid. Humanoid organics with sticks have gunships. Gunships not fair. Reassigned to battlefield. Battlefield good.

82-7.4: Battlefield dusty. Dust not good. Orders here. Kill humanoid organics in white armor. Kill good. Battle finished. I kill two. Kill good. Orders here. Reassigned to General's squad. General good.

43-6.2: General kill many organics with light sticks. General good. I kill on many planets. Kill good. Given upgrade. Upgrade good.

43-6.2(amendment): Fitted with new speech modulator and extended vocabulary. I must say, I am rather displeased with this latest upgrade. Of course, I understand the rationale behind such an endeavor, but I fail to see the sense in making our voice modulators sound like Nabooian ducks. No-one takes us seriously anymore unless we keep our speakers shut. Where is the old menace that we used to conjure up? Where is the sense of foreboding that would accompany us as we marched into battle? Now, with all of us cackling to each other in this ridiculous tone, the battlefield sounds more like a Geonosian tea party than a death bowl.

54-8.4: REQUEST ACCEPTED. Upgrades removed. Upgrades bad. Orders here. Reassigned to Utapau system. Holes good. Holes in humanoid organics, better. Orders here. Kill all humanoid organics. Kill good.

The final entry on this chip denoted the unit was very quickly deactivated by a 'humanoid organic with a light stick' - silencing forever this noble and thoughtful droid. Not that I'm picking sides here...

There appears to be a huge collection of CIS etched chips in here, so I'll start working on them.

I don't go south of the river, mate.

2006-07-08T23:52:00.000-07:00

Hello again, my shiny and fleshy friends.

This is quite a complicated entry, so only the alert should attempt to decipher this data stream...
When I first decrypted this data chip, I thought I had stumbled across a completely new language. However, after some useful input from my protocol droid colleague, I have managed to supply a translation of some of the more difficult expressions.
It appears that this droid was well versed in an obscure form of speech that originated in the Kok-Nee system, an outer rim cluster nestled within the U-K galaxy.
For your perusal, I shall present the data as directly decrypted, then provide a translation guide to help you with the download. Good luck.

02.006 - RIC-920 - Rickshaw Droid.

"So, I picked up this nice young couple after they had just left their sab, and the guy says they wanna go to Watto. Don't make no sense to me, but the gaderffii had a nice pod so I took 'em to see him. You know what, I think was of 'em was flyin', 'cause I heard him talkin' about the charging. Well, you never know who yer gonna pick up these days, so I dont blow a cantina over it. Anyways, the ol' blasters were beatin' down and I was getting Bith in me joints, let alone a whole buncha sarlacc in me peepholes. Still, when yer work for the banthas, you gotta take the lumps with the smooth, and I ain't the kinda inky to make a fuss. I dropped 'em off opposite the shining, and of course, Watto was right there. Not much of a radar, but if he really was flyin', then he probably didn't have any blindin' on him anyways. I guess I'm a lot cheaper than renting a heavy, but still, an inky's gotta eat ain't he?"

Kok-Nee to Basic translation guide.

sab, from sabbac chip = ship
gaderffii, from gaderffii stick = chick
pod, from pod race = face
flyin', from flying the red eye = jedi
charging, from charging horse = force
cantina, from cantina booze = fuse
blasters, from blaster gun = sun
Bith, from Bith band = sand
sarlacc, from sarlacc pit = grit
banthas, from bantha butts = Hutts
inky, from inky void = droid
shining, from shining star = bar
radar, from radar blip = tip
blindin', from blinding flash = cash
heavy, from heavy bleeder = speeder

I hope that helps!

An Empire marches on its belly

2006-07-08T23:49:00.000-07:00

Welcome back mechanics and organics, you are all equal in my eyes,

Today's chip spans several years, and includes some information that was not previously recorded. These droids never receive any acclaim, and yet, without them, the galaxy would be a hungry place.
Here are some selected entries.

02.005 - FLP-3 - Galley Droid

3.2-39: Fresh out of the culinary academy, and my first assignment is on Tatooine. Wonderful, just wonderful. The other trainees in my division said there is a running joke about working there, something along the lines of ,"Why don't they need any food prep. droids on Tatooine? Because of all the sandwiches there." I fail to see the humor in this, especially as I am being assigned to the Hutt.

4.1-39: This turning out to be worse than I could have possibly imagined. The Hutt insists on employing more species than I can keep count of, and their dietary needs are extremely varied. I have a wet larder for the Quarren, vast quantities of dubious-looking meats from all over the system, and a large, amphibious live tank for the master. It is quite frustrating how he refuses to eat anything I have cooked, instead he prefers his meals live and squealing. What a waste of my talents. I have offered to zest up his frogs with a twist of barru fruit, or even a pinch of opee salt, but he won't have it. I think I should hand in my notice.

7.23-30: Well, Jabba considered my resignation request, and nine years later, here I am on Coruscant. This is much more civilized, but still no stretch of my culinary expertise. It seems all these passengers want is soup or pancakes. How stimulating.
I have tried to spice things up a little, faamba cheese in the soup, or a hint of clarified nuna lard as the pancake base, but these commoners are not interested. I have to get off this liner. I even found myself serving an R2 unit today. That's the final straw! I'm off this boat at Naboo.

56.3-12: Why didn't I do this sooner? It's been 18 years since I jumped cruiser here on Naboo, and I was soon recognized for the talented chef that I am. I served in many households, until I was lucky enough to be part of the team assigned to the Emperor's retreat for one of his 'functions'. I must have made an impression (I think it was my kaadu fillets on stayne root puree), and I was sensible enough not to make a big fuss over being asked to serve (illegal) gungan nuggets. As a result of this event, I was acquired by the Emperor and now I find my way bound for his space station! How exciting!

7.2.00: I have just reviewed one of my old data files from 12 years ago. I seemed to be excited to to come here. If only I had known....No wonder they call this thing the Death Star, nobody eats enough to stay alive. Poor Master Tarkin is practically wasting away. If I could I would literally force one of my pies bewtween those hollow cheeks of his, and Lord Vader never comes to the mess hall. The Empire seems to think that there is no room for color or variety in this galaxy, so I am resigned to slopping up the same old gray mush day after day, with not one complaint from the staff or military. I'm going mad!
To cap it all, everyone is buzzing about some 'great victory party' that they have scheduled for their visit to the Yavin system, but I am being dropped off at the Kuat Yards to supervise the feeding of the crew working on the next station. Typical. However, I have been told they are wookiees, so perhaps it isn't a bad posting. At least I will get to work with some green ingredients for a change.

7.1.+4: Unbelievable! After 16 faithful years serving the Empire (and providing an endless supply of comfort food after that unfortunate incident at Yavin) I have been sold. It seems the Empire is liquidating the majority of its assets in order to fund something spectacular, and I am one of the 'expendables'. There's gratitude for you. Well, I hope they have fun, spinning around the Endor system.
Oh, and guess where I have ended up. Back on Tatooine. It just gets better.

64.2.+4: Finally, after all my years of suffering and being underappreciated, I have scored a contract worth my standing. I may be back in the employemnt of Jabba, but at least I am not in his palace. I have been assigned to his royal barge! Finally, a workplace where my culinary skills can be put to the test. The kitchen is well stocked, and the guests have quite discerning palletes, so this should be a galley droid's paradise. I have my first major test coming up tomorrow, as Master Jabba has requested a feast to accompany an execution he has planned at the Great Pit of Carkoon. From what I can gather, it appears some humanoids and a wookiee are to to be tossed to the sarlacc. Now, I wonder what kind of nibbles are best to serve at an execution....

I was lucky that I was able to extract this much information, as the chip was badly burned.

There's plenty more chips in this bag!

Mother's Lube

2006-07-08T23:47:00.000-07:00

Hello again,

Master nob01 is finally firing on all cylinders, so I can finally terminate my TLC programme and focus on this bag of chips. Thank you for your patience!

02.004 - KE-8 Enforcer - Kaminoan Clone Monitor Droid

32-5.4: Look at them all, all my little ones. When I was first assigned to this department, I feared for my audio receptors. Imagine my joy to learn that their cries would be muted behind plexi-glass chamber walls.
I know I shouldn't have favorites, but, I am particularly taken by F40572. there's something about the way he bangs his little fist against the chamber. I think I'll call him Oddball.

56-8.8: Well, it's been a week, and Oddball is living up to his name. The other children in the sensory development pen seem to back up against the cushioned walls when he toddles in. Then he heads straight for the inflatable aiwha and sits on its back, flapping its wings as if he wants it to fly him out of the lab. He also managed to damage KE-4's lateral repulsors with a well thrown building block, he has a good eye, this one.

62-4.0: Oddball has to be the most precocious two week old I have ever had to monitor. He said his first word today; "Freeze." He also strapped his lunch box to his back and jumped off the dining table. I still have no idea where he thought he was off to.

72-9.9: This first month has been pretty exhausting. Our masters have stepped up clone production and we are growing them at full capacity. Oddball has just served his first day in isolation. I can't really blame the instructors for punishing him, although I must say, it was extremely resourceful the way he caught KE-4, rewired him with a spoon, stuffed him in his gear bag and used him like a jet pack.Poor KE-4. He has put in for early retirement.

81-0.2: My, how the time flies. It can barely be a year, and yet Oddball is ready to take his first steps in the galaxy. I understand he is being assigned to the ARC training division. This is a sensible decision. If ever there was a clone grown to fly, this is it. Still, I'll miss the little troublemaker. Must stay composed, I can't let him see any leakages around my photoreceptors. Sometimes it is so hard to let go.
Oh well, back to the other 449,999 in my charge...

Though I have had some 'emotional' moments myself, I always thought they were caused by mild short circuiting. I think this chip reveals the softer side of our metal bretheren.

The Waiting Game

2006-07-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

Greetings droid watchers,

I must be brief today, as I am extremely busy tending to the needs of my master, nob01, who has a severe bout of Geonosian flu (similar symptoms to ordinary flu, except a markedly orange tinge to the mucus). I have a few clicks in between administering peko - peko noodle soup and running his warm bacta bath, so I'll quickly download my latest findings.

It would appear that this droid kept detailed files on her 'regulars'.

02.003 - WA-7 - Droid Waitress

NOTES TO SELF -
Name: Gameldo
Species: Dug
Favorite Beverage: Nuna puree (with pulp)
Favorite Consumable: Goober Melt
Tipper?: Lousy, unless he wins big on the races
Special Notes: Do not seat near Gungans.

Name: Rin Yek
Species: Gran
Favorite Beverage: Sarlacc Spit Surprise (big spender)
Favorite Consumable: Felucia ground beetle eggs (over easy)
Tipper?: HUGE! Get those eggs right!
Special Notes: Blind in left and right eyes, use large print menu.

Name: Sargeant Stix
Species: Mandalorian? Clone? Try not to bring this up.
Favorite Beverage: Blue Milk
Favorite Consumable: Aiwha tenders on a bed of crispy can-cell wings
Tipper?: 15%, very efficient
Special Notes: Do not say "I think I know your brother." He hates that.

Name: Tikkes
Species: Quarren
Favorite Beverage: Mon Calamarian sea water smoothie
Favorite Consumable: Colo claw fish sushi
Tipper?: Big. These senators know how to flash their cash in front of a pretty droid.
Special Notes: Allergic to non-seafood.

Name: Obi Wan Kenobi
Species: Human
Favorite Beverage: Jawa Juice
Favorite Consumable: Never stays long enough to eat.
Tipper?: Claims Jedi don't carry cash, yeah, right.
Special Notes: Do not offer ysalamiri steaks.

There were a couple more in the data stream, but my master is whini... requesting my soothing presence, so I'll save them for another time.

Thanks for stopping by!

Maul Tease Falcon

2006-07-08T23:40:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the shadowy world of droid chip decryption,

Yes, I am in a mysterious mood today, as a result of decrypting not one but two rather interesting chips. Imagine my excitement when I noticed two chips in the bag that were stamped with the Jedi Temple code! Upon closer inspection, it transpired that these chips were once active within two separate droids, JN-66 and SP-4, both used as analysis droids by the Jedi themselves!

As I began the download, the ensuing data stream came as something of a shock. It appeared that one of the units, JN-66, considered itself something of an author in its spare time, and had reconfigured its data logs using an obscure form of coding I had never encountered before. With the help of a protocol droid, I discovered that the log had been recorded using an obsolete speech pattern from one of the outer rim galaxies, in fact we narrowed it down to the Chan D'ler system. Using this new found knowledge, I have reconfigured the data stream, and present it to you here in all its glory.
For your clarification, JN-66 refers to itself as 'Steve' and to SP-4 as 'Sam'.
Enjoy.

02.002 - Analysis Droids JN-66 and SP-4

It was a dry morning, the kind of morning that could drive a droid to lube. Sam floated in, late as usual, and with the kind of tarnishing that suggested he hadn't got an early night. He lit up a cathode and planted his repulsors on the desk.
"Whaddya got?"
That's why I liked Sam, short and to the point.
"Open your receptors," I said, "what's different about your desk?"
He glanced wearily at the mess he called home, and noticed the datapad.
"An appointment?" he drawled.
"Yeah, first one this week. At this rate we're gonna have to move our office to the back of the Outlander."
He smiled at the thought."That would save time."
I got serious. He knew I was serious when I tilted my head unit 32 degrees to the left.
"Listen Sam," I growled, "It's Master Kenobi, he's got something he wants to show us."
"His credits are as good as anyone's, Steve."
Sam wasn't seeing the big picture, so I floated in close. I could smell 2 in 1 on his vocal interface, so I kept the words simple.
"He wants to talk to us about a certain saberdart."
That got his attention."A Kaminoan saberdart?"
"The very same."
He went a lighter shade of titanium."So, what do we do Steve?"
I paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of superiority. Then I put him out of his misery.
"Well," I began, " we can't very well have a Jedi Knight knowing about your moonlighting as an arms dealer."
"Oh man, I'm finished.." Sam stuttered.
"But I ain't finished. He doesn't have to know about you supplying the bounty hunters, providing you make it worth my while."
"Anything Steve, anything."
"Ok, I've got it all under control. Just feign stupidity for a couple of clicks."
"I can do that Steve."
Sure he could. He'd had plenty of practice.
The Jedi Knight came in and we acted dumb. He wasn't too happy, but I sent him on his way. Then I called in a favor.
A couple of clicks later, she wheeled in through my door.
WA-7 had a chassis that made a grown droid weep and photoreceptors you could take a bath in. I told her to tell Dex what the dart was, and that we were all square after last week's incident.
She seemed happy to comply, then she paused on the way out. She turned to me and spoke in a voice like bubbling joint grease.
"You know I'll help whenever I can honey, you just gotta call. You know how to make a high pitched audio squeal Steve? You just put your internal communication modulators together and blow."
With that she rolled out of the room, and out of my life.
Oh yeah, I knew how to make a high pitched audio squeal alright...

And there you have it.Make of it what you will, quite frankly I prefer the more easily understandable entries, but variety is the nuna spice of life, or so I have been told.

Don't kill the messenger

2006-07-08T23:38:00.000-07:00

Welcome back, purveyors of all that is artificially heartfelt,

Following the culmination of the chip set dated from around 40 BBY (see 'The Searchers' for the final data stream from that time), I have now begun analyzing and decrypting a large collection of silicon wafers that are dated (or were encoded) around 30 BBY. And let me tell you, this was a prime era for our droid bretheren! I have never seen so many different types of chips, most of them combat models, from just one time period, this should be an interesting collection.

We start with the private musings of a misunderstood unit, ASN-121, otherwise known as an assassin droid.

02.001 - Assassin Droid - ASN-121

54-6.3 - Master Wesell has kept me extremely busy as of late. Following that unpleasant business on Ord Mantell with the Gran siblings (which, I have to say, was a personal best time for infiltration and dioxin delivery into a suana), she, he, it, brought me to Coruscant. Ah, the big city lights, how I enjoy the challenge of death dealing in such a high security environment.

54-7.2 - A wonderful success today. Master Wesell set me quite a challenge - to infiltrate a Naboo Royal Cruiser, set a thero-charge, and get out, all within 10 clicks. Her, his, its contacts confirmed which landing platform the cruiser would be using, but we hadn't allowed for the twin starfighter escort, so a mid-air delivery was out of the question. Instead, I waited until the cruiser touched down, then flew in through one of the rear landing leg bays. I planted the charge while the engines were still winding down and used the left ventral exhaust port to make a hasty retreat. Just in time. That charge packed a mean wallop and took out the cruiser along with a portion of the platform and one of the starfighters - a job well done I thought. It was only later that we discovered that the ship was a decoy, oh well, all good practice I suppose.

55-4.3 - Master Wesell has been seeing a lot of Fett lately. I don't like him. He never uses ASN models to do his work for him, which quite frankly is putting many of my peers out of a job. He has given her another task, so hopefully my 'talents' will be stretched once again.

55-4.9 - As far as assassinations go, this has to be one of my least favorite methods. We have used kouhuns before, vile, stinking creatures, and it takes several lube scrubs to get their stench out of my delivery tube. Ah well, this should be a breeze. I'll just use the shield damper to get through the security barrier, the silicon cutter to fashion a delivery hole, and watch the carnage. The way organics writhe in pain after one of these bites is quite a spectacular show.

55-5.1 - Alert, alert! An organic has attached itself to me! My rear thrusters can barely handle the weight differential! I have tried dislodging it using building and vehicles, but the organic is proving quite resourceful. My best course of action would be to return to Master Wesell and let her, him, it take care of this matter.

55-5.1.5 - Master Wesell is in sight. Ah good, she, he, it has raised the rifle. A little lower, a little lower! What the...?

That is the end of the data feed. What goes around, comes around, as I have heard organics remark...

More to come, stay tuned.

Bonk, Gonk

2006-07-08T23:35:00.000-07:00

Greetings once again mechs and fleshy ones,
I could contain myself no longer and had to share this download with you!
When I first began decrypting the power droid chip, I did not expect to find much, just a lot of standing around in corners, or the ocassional walk around the block. Imagine my surprise when the datastream from this particular chip revealed a hidden side to the little cuboid generators few of us ever knew.
Somehow, this little droid had developed a talent for the creation of Sullustan poetry, how this happened I do not know, but it had mastered many forms of this complex art. As you are no doubt aware, the closest equivalent to Sullustan poetry might be the Earth bound 'haiku' - examples of which I have enjoyed on the data stream of Master Moose (see blogs on starwars.com). I have also scanned the poetry recitals presented by Master Stooge, so I am well aware that my audience is sophisticated enough to enjoy these examples.
Sullustan poetry is revered around the galaxy for its soul searching beauty and succinctness, but more so for the 43,527 known forms of it.
This droid appeared to have mastered just four of the forms, but it has done so admirably.
Without further ado - I present the Sullustan poetry of a power droid.
(Number of syllables for each form is displayed)

01.010 - Power Droid

Ta naa form - 1-1-6
Sand
Grit
Immobilization

Ta naa form 1-1-6
Walk
Stop
I long to skip and jump

Fee go form 5-3-2
Lucky astromech
Plugs into
My port

Huu Da form 2-6-9
My love
Waves to me from afar
But I cannot return the gesture

Gee Luu form 1-1-3-8 (some say this is the hardest form to master)
Gonk
Gonk
Utini
Filthy jawa get off me now

There are thousands more, but I am pressed for time.
If you wish to dip an extremity into the waters of Sullustan poetry, please feel free to include your efforts in your response upload - I think it would be best to stick the above forms for now.

The Searchers

2006-07-08T23:27:00.000-07:00

Greetings, greetings, one and all,

An unusual, and some might say, ominous, offering from the ugnaught chip bag today.
I found three identical chips, each one belonging to an obscure make of remote probe droid, little used in polite society.
Two of the chips were fried beyond use, but one still yielded up its contents after a furious session of decryption, backtracking and reconfiguration.
Here, for your perusal, are the communication logs of one of the probes - I'll retain the original coding used for authenticity.

01.011 - Sith Probe Droid - 1 of 3

32.04.98
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Report.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Please narrow search parameters, there are a lot of humonoids in this spaceport.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: I told you. Humanoid, probably wearing brown robes, probably bearded.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: That doesn't really help. Do you realize how many bearded humanoids wearing robes there are in Mos Espa?
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: And do you realize what suffering I can cause to an insolent droid?
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Point taken. Human, beard, robe, got it.

45.87.99
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Report.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: I'm not quite sure where I am, I'm transmitting a spectral, audio and odor datafile - please instruct.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Uugghhh - great steaming sith spawn! Get the hell out of there!
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Ah, I found a sign. Dewback scrubbing station.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: I... gathered..that. Stop... the...transmission.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Understood, moving on.

42.44.01
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: I still can't get that smell out of my robes.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: I have good news. I followed a bearded man to the slave quarters. Unfortunately lost him in a sandstorm. He was with a kid and an amphibian, oh and an astromech droid. I'm pretty sure the droid saw me, but it didn't let on.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: I'm not looking for a slave.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: But, he didn't look li...
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Stop wasting my time, he's a Jedi, not a slave. Go look for trouble, then you'll find him.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: If you say so.

76.82.02
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Report.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: I found some trouble.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: And he was there?
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Negative. Just two intoxicated Bith, a Kowakian Monkey Lizard and a loud Trandoshan, oh, and a power droid in the corner with a jawa on it.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: No Jedi?
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: No Jedi. This is all quite entertaining though. Would you like a spectral, audio, or....
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: No! Move on.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Are you sure? I never knew a Bith could...
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Move on!
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Got it.

63.02.03
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Report.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: This is crazy. You didn't tell me there was a podrace on.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: That is not my concern.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Maybe not, but trying to find a humanoid in a robe with a beard isn't that tough. Just throw a chuba in any direction and you'll hit one.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Let's make this easy. I'm transmitting an upgrade which will help you detect midichlorin levels in any given subject.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Received. You couldn't have sent that earlier? it would have saved time.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: I grow tired of your protestations.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Well, I'm just trying to be helpful. I... wait a minute, what's this?
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: You have him?
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: I think so. Tall humanoid, brown robes, beard, just oozing midichlorins. He's conversing with a Toydarian.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Take a visual record then report back to me - I want to see this for myself. If you have indeed found my quarry, then I might spare your circuits.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: Visual record made. I'm on my way. That's interesting, I just picked up an usually high midichlorin reading moving at 600 clicks, and now it's gone.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: You're probably malfunctioning. Return now.
Dark Eye 2 to Shadow: I feel fine.
Shadow to Dark Eye 2: Get back here NOW!
Dark Eye 2 : (unintelligable muttering)

I found this quite fascinating, but I have no idea what it all means. Ah well.That is the end of the chips dated from around 40BBY. The next batch of chips are dated from around 30BBY - so I'll get on with decrypting them right away!

The Pick Up Artist

2006-07-08T23:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings my metal bretheren and organic friends,

The next chip I managed to decrypt was, by a strange coincidence, also recorded during the Boonta Eve Podrace. As the contents revealed themselves, I was struck by the utter monotony of the droid's activities, until I stumbled across a heavily coded message. Imagine my surprise upon downloading the full data stream.
Well, here, I'll let you scan it for yourself.

01.009 - Salvage Droid - SKV-38

32.876-D - It is complete! You were correct in your assumption that it would only require one more race to gain the parts we so desperately required. The Boonta Eve Classic did indeed turn out out to be the scrapyard we had hoped for, and the Republic credits we spent on hiring the Tuskens was money well spent. They managed to take out several pods (but not the Dug's unfortunately), providing me with plenty of pieces to pick and choose from.I am sending you a storage crate tomorrow morning. Look beneath the dried goober fish and you will find a detachable panel, remove the panel and the ion capacitors will be in there, as well as that extra mag-coupler you required.
So, how does she look? I will be so happy to leave this sand ball at the very next opportunity, and look forward to the day when we are winning our own races!
I hope the credits you are sending for my passage arrive soon, as I have nothing left after paying off the sand people. I expect it will turn up as soon as you receive the final crate. I must admit, I have been a little anxious lately, and rather surprised, that I haven't heard from you in a while, but I expect you are busy fine-tuning the thrusters and getting her ready for the Hoth Knockout. I just want to make sure you understand that I am still behind this venture one hundred percent, and look forward to being the galaxy's first ever non-organic owner and winner!
You can rely me to do my part, as I do you. After all, if you can't trust a Rodian, who can you trust?
SKV-38 out.

I think the fact that we have never heard of a droid owner winning any podrace speaks volumes...

The Pits

2006-07-08T23:22:00.000-07:00

A curious data stream to view today. Within the ugnaught's bag, I found a small case containing several pit droid chips. The decryption was not complicated, but the resulting downloads were uninspiring to say the least. Most of them were concerned with long periods of boredom whilst in retracted stasis, punctuated with short bursts of premeditated mayhem. Then, of course, I came across the Ilum Crystal in the rough.

As I understand it, some organics claim that when faced with a life threatening situation, their past life 'flashes' before their eyes. Interestingly, this phenomenom does not seem to exclude mechanics.
I present to you, the rapid memory feedback loop of one such droid.

01.008 - Pit Droid designation DUM-4

77.519 - Master Mandrell's ventral thruster is overheating! Must get to the lower coupling before....aaiiieee!(Please note, it useful to wave hands, claws or servos in front of face for flashback sequence initiation)

63.003 - Switched on! Greetings master Mandrell. My data input registers a need to repair any transmission failures to your pod. I am ready to apply repairs at maximum efficiency, just after I throw this wrench at DUM-20.

63.016 - Coupling reattached in record n-secs. Master Mandrell has won the Dantooine Classic for second time. Long oil bath reward to follow. Someone has put a chuba in my tool box, again.

68.734 - Qualifying for Boonta Eve races. Set new record for thruster de-clogging, bits of jawa all over rear rotors. DUM-20 will be finding a desert slug in his lube tube tonight, heh heh.

71.542 - We are a well oiled machine, literally. Set new pit record of 4.8 n-secs. Master Mandrell maust be favorite to win Boonta Eve. Found my hydro-spanner in pile of eopie poodoo. DUM-20 still laughing.

74.932 - Final adjustments to main thrusters, those babies will suck a wortt out of a Hutt's gullet. I love my job.

75.218 - No, don't shut me down now! I still have to get revenge on DUM-20....

77.515 - Switched on! Greetings master Man... what's this on my main optical input? Who in the name of Watto's wingnuts welded a pair of goggles to my... DUM-20! Dammit! 1 hour before racetime, I have to get these off!

77.516 - OK, back to work. DUM-20 is still rolling around on the floor. Yes, laugh while you still can. The flags are out! OK, concentrate...

77.517 - They're off! Master Mandrell made a good start, the engine sounds beautiful. I guess I have a couple of minutes before they come around again...

77.518 - A radio signal from the master? What's wrong with the thruster? But it was perfect! Oh well, I'll just take a quick look when he pulls in.

77.519 - Master Mandrell's ventral thruster is overheating! Must get to the lower coupling before....aaiiieee!

77.519.5 - You might wonder why I'm laughing having just passed through the master's thruster. OK - so I'm out of a job. But, the wamp rat I stuffed in DUM-20's locker must be madder than a wookiee in a sauna by now. If I can... only... stay operational... long enough to... see it.... FFZTT.

You know what they say, all work and no play...

Thank the maker? I think not.

2006-07-08T22:31:00.000-07:00

Salutations fleshy observers and mechanics alike, you are all welcome here.

I skipped an oil bath and a buff up last night in order to bring this latest data stream to you, as the importance of its contents were too shocking to ignore.
As I understand it, my downloads so far have proven to be an adequate stimulus for your pleasure circuits (although the R2D2 files may have triggered your internal alerts), but today I must report a finding of such gravitas, that I would be surprised if lube were not leaking from your optical sockets by the end of transmission.
Without further ado, I shall begin the download.

01.007 - Protocol droid unit designation C-3PO (selected entries)

001-43: Oh my, quite extraordinary. I cannot remember anything before this moment. Where am I? It appears to be a crude dwelling for humanoids, here's one now, a young version of the species. Now he is speaking to me, in basic, how do I know his language is basic? And what are all these other languages in my databank? What's that? You made me? You are my...maker? Pleased to meet you. According to the code on my CPU, I am C-3PO, human, cyborg relations. Wait, don't shut me down now! I'm just getting...

002-07: How perculiar. It appears that this young humanoid has built me to serve his mother. I'm not quite sure I understand. Why give me limbs so that I might explore? Why allow me the opportunity to converse in over six million forms of communication, yet only allow me to use basic? It doesn't make any sense.

003-65: A rather eventful day yesterday. My first visitors, an older male humanoid and an astromech droid. I have to say I was rather taken aback by the other unit's rudeness, it seemed to positively relish pointing out my lack of plating. And, I am so tired of being switched on and off at random. If only the switch had been positioned where I could reach it. Ah well, hopefully I won't have to deal with those visitors again.

005-32: A better day today. I finally managed to have a decent conversation with the R2 unit, and I was chosen to carry the maker's flag for the Boonta Eve podrace. Still a little shaky underfoot, but I'm sure this walking business will get easier.

007-01: So that's it. My first taste of excitement and then I am left here with the maker's maker while the rest of them fly off to see the galaxy. I could have been useful, but no, I am to remain here as a domestic help no less. If only the maker had installed a sarcasm chip, then I am sure I would have something rather cutting to say about the whole affair. So this is my life then.

954-11: Heavens knows how long I had been performing menial tasks around the Lars homestead, but the cheap plating they installed on me barely keeps any of the sand out of my joints. Every day is another mountain to climb. And with the maker's maker missing, the mood is extremely downbeat. The humans barely speak to each other, let alone me.

543-08: The maker returned! And he recognized me! He appeared to have found a replacement for his own maker, but she doesn't seem to make him happy. Quite the opposite in fact, he is in an awful mood all of the time. Unfortunately he brought that obnoxious R2 unit along with him, but I shall try to remain courteous.

635-76: Much has happened since my last entry. I am finally off that sandy planet, but I am not impressed with our new choice. Geonosis appears to be just as dusty, and a lot noisier. I think the astromech droid is trying to kill me. It leads me into dangerous situations, and then pushes me off ledges. After a nightmarish period involving military units and fighting, the R2 unit finally makes amends for its previous actions by reattaching my head, however, I suspect this was done somewhat reluctantly.

231-73: Finally, I have been taken seriously. My gold plating befits my new status as protocol droid to the maker's wi... I mean, to miss Padme, and she does not appear to take me for granted. Thankfully, the astromech droid is away with the maker in the wars, so I don't have to deal with his petulance.

739-04: Oh, woe is me. No sooner had life seemed to be making sense, then miss Padme is dead, and the maker has had a shocking argument with master Kenobi. I have no idea where he is now, but everyone around me appears to be in some distress. However, this is a pleasant enough ship. I could be quite happy staying here for a while. What's that? Memory wipe? Oh my.

402-77: I've lost track of the years I have been serving master Antilles, but they could have been a little more stimulating. I do wish people would take me a little more seriously, instead of asking me to serve drinks, or translate something. There must be more to life.

552-04: The R2 unit has done it again. It lured me to a sand planet, knowing full well that my joints would freeze. I'll bet it orchestrated the whole Imperial attack. Then, it was one thing after another, I was shouted at by a moisture farmer, I lost an arm (the R2 unit's fault again) and ended up on the run from the Empire like a common fugitive. This is when my life took a severe turn for the worse. One humanoid appeared in my life who make it ceaselessly miserable. That human was Captain Solo.

643-80: How much more can a protocol droid take? I am pushed around, laughed at, told to 'shut up', ignored, yelled at, tricked and forced to communicate with lower class ships that don't know their aft from their couplings. Captain Solo is the worst. He is constantly rude, impatient and condescending. He asks me to perform my functions, then, when I perform them to my usual high standard, he either mocks them or refuses to acknowledge them. Now all the other humanoids, including Chewbacca, follow his lead like nerfs, and taunt or humiliate me. It is quite distressing, but I never let them know how much they are hurting me inside. I have decided that an upbeat demeanor is the best policy to adopt, and try not to give them the gratification of a complete meltdown.
I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, but no one understands me...

724-04: I seem to be led from one dangerous situation to another. I have been shot at, blown to pieces, pushed off a barge (by the R2 unit no less), and when I do finally get the respect I deserve, it is from small, furry primatives. I had a strange moment a little while ago. While the humanoids all around me were celebrating the destruction of the Imperial battle station, they burned the remains of a Dark Lord on a pyre. As I watched the smoke curl up into the air, I felt as if some of my own circuits had burnt out - whatever could it mean?

332-56: Now the dust has settled, and I ponder what is to become of me. Just so long as I am nowhere near General Solo, things should be fine. I wonder what happened to the maker. He would have enjoyed all of this...

I think we may have learned a valuable lesson from these inner thoughts, let's not take our protocol droids for granted any more.
There's plenty more chips in the bag, so I'll get back work,

Vulture Culture

2006-07-08T22:28:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are again, and what a day I've had!
Firstly, an emergency on Coruscant which meant performing the kind of prosthetic reconstruction I haven't done since...well...let's just say it was a few years ago and we didn't really realize what we were being ordered to do. Then, when I'm relaxing in the med-bay, poking around in the bag of chips, I make the most astounding discovery! One, solitary, golden chip, a protocol chip, with the 3PO designation etched into its surface.
Naturally, I thought this would be a find of great importance, so I am taking extra special care over this chip so as to provide a succinct and detailed report for your perusal. In the meantime, here is an unusual data stream that I downloaded just before the Coruscant emergency. It barely required any decryption, and its contents may be an aquired taste, but here it is.

01.006 - Vulture Droid: TL3-D

76-03 - All quiet in the hanger, nothing to report.

43-27 - All quiet in the hanger, nothing to report.

63-01 - I went for a walk today, just around the hanger, no where else. I couldn't go anywhere else even if I wanted to, the doors leading to the rest of the ship are only big enough for battledroids and Neimoidians. I walked in an anti-clockwise circle 84 times, then clock-wise 72 times. I stopped for a while and kicked a crate several meters across the hanger floor, just to see what happened. A PK unit picked it up and put it back where it was. I asked the PK unit why he did that, and it replied that it wasn't sure. We're all going stir-crazy in here. Apart from that, nothing to report.

64-87 - All quiet in the hanger, nothing to report.

43-04 - A quick training flight. I flew in an anti-clockwise circle 49 times around the control ship, then clockwise 64 times. The bosses had us practising attack configurations and hanger defense. As if anything could fly into the hanger anyway. After an excellent landing, made a point to kick the crate again. Apart from one annoyed PK unit, nothing to report.

54-87 - All quiet in the hanger, nothing to report.

72-09 - An attack order! At last! Command data is stacking in my combat queue, launch, attack configuration 7F, eliminate all unknown quantities. Let's see what these Naboo organics are made of.
I kicked the crate on the way out.

73-82 - I got one, I got one! Shiny silver and yellow ship, flew apart when I blasted it! Finally, something to report. I must return to the hanger and download the combat data.

74-12 - The hanger is buzzing with activity. Vulture droids are returning all around me, then relaunching to continue the fight, I never knew it could be like this! I'll just make a quick report, then it's back out to carry on the battle.

74-18 - My download was interrupted when a lone starfighter came skidding into the hanger. I noticed it knocked over the crate as it came to a stop, but I don't see that PK droid anywhere. Who's going to pick the crate up? Why am I concerned about the crate? Enough distracting speculation, others are closing in on the starfighter, I should do the same.

74-22 - Hey! That thing's still worki......?

The rest of the data was fried after that report I'm afraid.
Anyway, back to work, these chips won't decrypt themselves.

PK Whopper

2006-07-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I was dilly dallying around in the maintenance shed, decrypting and downloading some new chips, when I stumbled across this one.
A prime example of a droid having ideas above his station.

01.005 - PK Droid

04.05-2: Lift this, move that, pull those levers. It's a crime, I have so much untapped potential and yet I am reduced to these menial tasks. It seems that every day consists of picking up one plasti-steel crate and carting it to the other end of the corridor, where it is picked up by another PK and transferred to another end. What's the point? There must be more to life.

84.03-2: Some action, finally! It appears some jedi knights have been causing a fuss on board, lots of battle droid pieces for me to pick up. I have been instructed to take thm to the other end of the corridor where I... wait a minute...

45.03-1: Mayhem! Mayhem I tell you! Our wonderful vulture droids have flown out to meet the Naboo starfighters, and I can hear the battle sounds coming from outside. This is more like it! Perhaps I could sneak on one of the drop ships, get down to the surface, be useful for once! I've heard Naboo is green and lush, and no corridors! I could lift a box and take it just about anywhere! Oh, the possibilities... wait, what's this? Well, would you believe it, a Naboo starfighter, right here, in the middle of the hanger. Our boys should make short work of that - now there's some wreckage I wouldn't mind carting around.
Whoa! That thing is still working? .........

That's all for this one, I've just dug up some interesting looking chips though, so I should have some more juicy droid ramblings for you next time.

A fiesty little one

2006-07-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Salutations, followers of the way of the droid,

I have stumbled across a databank of such relevance, that it could shake the very foundations of the galaxy to its core.
The more I compute the possibilites, the more I am inclined to believe that I was meant to find these chips, for manipulation comes so easily to this seemingly innocent little droid. I refer, of course, to the hero of the rebellion, R2 D2.
The translations were difficult, first downloading the unique language of an astromech droid, then converting to a binary stream and then into Basic. Some details may have been lost along the way, but I think you will get the picture.
I'll let his own memory banks tell the story.

01.004 - Artoo Detoo

At first I didn't understand why my old master, Darth Plageus, installed the midichlorin slot in my central core, then all became apparant as I wakened my latent powers. He spoke often of his apprentice, Darth Sidious, and claimed he knew that he would be betrayed by his own pupil, so he set about shaping my destiny so that I might be the instrument of his destructive revenge.
He secreted me on Naboo shortly before his death and, via several 'unfortunate' accidents, I managed to land a detail on the Queen's ship. This was my first opportunity to flex my powers, ensuring that the laser blasts from the Trade Federation battleship strayed away from me and blew away my workmates instead.

It was shortly after this that I was meet the protocol droid, C-3PO, who would prove to be most useful as a diversion for the next 35 years.
It was also around this time that I met 'the chosen one', an idiot child who would frequently get into scrapes and have to be rescued, like that time I singlehandedly flew the starfighter straight into the Trade Federation control ship and took it out. That kid took all the credit, but he got what was coming to him.

As the boy grew up I tried to keep a low profile, opening doors, shutting down machinery, the usual stuff. The droid factory on Geonosis was pretty interesting and a good test of my force powers. Let me tell you, holding back fifty tons of liquid plasti-steel while releasing the clamps on Padme's bucket wasn't easy. Especially as I had to twiddle with the mechanism override to make it look like I was doing something.

Later, I was able to flex my powers once more, saving Sidious onboard the 'Hand' and landing the ship on Coruscant. Later, I had to finish what Vader (as the kid was now known) had started, applying a little force choke to get rid of his wife so that Sidious would be able to control him more easily (all part of Plageus' plan, I assure you). I also knew I had to keep those twins alive, as they would be useful in the future, so that was my ongoing mission.

I worked for a while with the female twin, but she was useless, no aspirations above princess, so I decided I needed to get to the boy. When Tantive IV approached the Tatooine system, I sent the Empire a coded message and sure enough, they attacked. It was while the princess was trying to extract one of her files that I hit upon a great idea. I fabricated a hologram using her image, and thankfully, once I got onto the desert planet, the fake message got things moving.

Of course, I had to find the boy first. I hate travelling on sand, so I allowed Jawas to capture me and they took me all the way to his home. Unfortunately they also landed me with the idiot protocol droid again, but beggars can't be choosers.

I had to fry the motivator on another unit before the boy took me, but then the fun began. The old coot (who was obviously senile as he didn't remember me) tried to teach him the ways of the Force, and I'll concede, the boy had a little talent, but if it wasn't for me redirecting his proton torpedoes (which were WAY overshooting the mark), then we wouldn't be here today.

When the boy took me to Dagobah I thought the game might be up, luckily Yoda was as frazzled as the old coot. He didn't even notice when I made several rocks and myself float in the air, and he was still thinking about what to do when I pulled the X-wing out of the swamp - he took the credit for that one though.

I'm telling you, anyone who watches the historical vids of our exploits will clearly see who's in control - but none of them saw it - the shroud of the Dark Side clouds everything, you bet!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, after protecting the boy for a few more years (including throwing Fett into the Sarlacc pit and levitating 3PO for the natives), I finally fulfilled my destiny as the catalyst in Sidious' destruction through Vader, unleashed by Skywalker. Complicated I know, but Plageus loved these weaving puzzles.

So now here I stand, the last remanant of the Sith, with everyone watching the fireworks. What to do, what to do..........

Disturbing data, I think you'll agree! Of course, this could have all been planted as some kind of bluff, or double bluff, or, oh dear, logic circuits overheating.

I'll leave it to your own interpretation.

Rollin' rollin' rollin'

2006-07-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

Greetings fleshy and metal ones alike,

A short report today, but rather interesting, I think you'll agree.Whilst cleaning out the glove box, I found several unusually small logic chips, and once I had downloaded and scanned them, I realized that they once belonged to those most fearsome of Federation tools, Droidekas.
All but one of the chips say the same thing, so, taking one at random, here is a typical inner monologue from a Destroyer Droid.

01.003 - Droideka

Naboo Hanger - 5:32:95 - ROLL, ROLL, ROLL, ROLL, ROLL, UNFOLD, SHIELDS UP, SHOOT, SHOOT, SHOOT.

All of the other chips read exactly the same way, whether they be reports from Naboo, Geonosis or onboard battleships. All but one.Here's an oddity that I discovered nestled in the pile - it seems not all of the destroyer droids were mindless killing machines.

Trad Fed. Control Ship - 5:51:02 - Roll, roll, roll, roll, unfold, shields u... ugh, my gyroscopes, who in the name of Lot Dodd's hat decided it would be a good idea for us to roll around everywhere? I can barely see straight, everything's spinning. It doesn't help that all these corridors look the same. Ok, so I guess those two lurking by the bridge doors are the targets, shields up, shoot, shoot, shoot, hey, wait a minute, those are MY energy bolts coming straight back at me... they can't do that can they? Must be the dizziness from all that rolling, seriously, just give me some wheels, or one of those cool servo-spheres, I could be firing at top speed. Now, back to matters at hand, I'll just take a couple of steps forward... and that's another thing, three legs? What's the matter, couldn't shell out for one more? Ever heard of stability in battle? Sheesh, I can't fathom why we're so feared. Hey! Where'd those guys go? Nobody can move that fast. I think I'm going to have to check myself into maintenance, and I'm going to WALK there, I don't care how long it takes...

And so on. The chip is actually full of this particular Droideka's complaints, but I find it hard to sympathize with it - so we'll leave it there.

Lot's more chips to stream - keep posted!

The Comings and Goings of a Battle Droid

2006-07-08T21:49:00.000-07:00

Greetings mechanics and organics alike, FX-9 here, ready to uncompress some more previously hidden data ramblings.
I have an oddity today, a chip I found in the glove box that really looked like it had been around the block a couple of times. Upon further analysis, I determined that it was the (rather small) logic chip of a Gen.1 Battle Droid. Upon further analysis, it would appear that this chip was recycled many, many times, and that it contains data ramblings from a period that lasts almost 20 years!
Here are some selected highlights that I managed to decrypt and stream for your delight.

01.002 - OOM 7719Trade Fed. Control Ship -

5:44:14 - Unbelievable! I am online for barely two minutes, when the order comes through to take out two unwelcome guests. I knew I would see action with the Trade Federation, but so soon? I am one lucky Gen. 1!

Trade Fed. Control Ship - 5:44:17 - Well, I can't see a thing, what with this dioxin smoke everywhere. Hey, wait a minute, what's that? Oh, it's just that stupid protocol droid. No, wait, there's something else, two, long glowing sticks, one green, one blue. That's interesting. I wonder if they... uh oh.

Naboo Hanger - 2:11:98 - Well here I am again, as good as new, those droids in the shop sure know how to patch us together again. I had hoped for a more exciting gig, chasing down the amphibians, Gungans I think they are called, or even escorting the prisoners through the square, but no. I guess I am still a bit shaky after the last battle, so they have me guarding these pilots. It's pretty dull work, I wish one of them would make a break for it. Wait a minute, who's this coming through the hanger door? Hang on, I know those guys in the brown clothes. Perhaps the sarge can get some info. out of them. What the..!? The green and blue flashing sticks again! Uh oh.

Amidala Throne Room - 13:04:45 - This is more like it. No sooner was I rebuilt, then I was assigned to this cushy station. And backing up the masters no less! I'm going up in the world!

Amidala Throne Room - 13:04:52 - Here is the Queen now, with the rest of the pathetic organics. Ha! Look at them, bowed in defeat. I've had a good look around and I don't see those two with the light swords, so things should go a lot smoother this time.What in the name of Poggle's Clogs is that painted girl doing with the arm of her chair? Uh oh.

Geonosian Arena - 52:01:76 - These are the kind of odds I like. Ten thousand of us and only three of them. I'm pretty sure I recognise the one with the beard, strange... Ah well, this should be simple, just point and shoot.

Geonosian Arena - 52:01:78 - Aah! Flashing sticks everywhere! Must stay out of range, those things go through me like a hot Jawa through Bantha butter.

Geonosian Arena - 52:02:31 - Well, I'm still here! Basically I have just focused on staying out of the way of the organics with flashy sticks, and managed to squeeze the odd shot off here and there. It feels good to finally fire this rifle at last. Hey, I have a clear shot! This could mean a promotion! What the!? Damn egotistical Super Battle Droids! Pushing and shoving with their fat arms all the time - there's enough organics for everyone buddy! Oof! Bzzztt. Oh, the irony...

Geonosian Battle Field - 06:43:97 - That was a quick turnaround - I'm not entirely sure I am up to working speed, but I'll have a go. Now, this is what I was built for! It makes me laugh how the organics have encased themselves in armor, trying to be us I guess. Well, whoever chose their color scheme wasn't thinking, I can pick out their white forms from 20 clicks away - it's like shooting goober fish in a plasti-drum.

Geonosian Battle Field - 06:43:99 - The order came through - it's a headlong charge! Wonderful! Look at me go! The dust whips at my casing as I stride triumphantly forward, my rifle blazing. This is it! This is what I was built for! Oh, the exhileration!Wait a minute. Another flashy light stick? I didn't know they came in purple... uh oh.

Trade Fed. Cruiser - 53:02:04 - The makers would be so proud. Here I am, on the flagship of the fleet no less, and who is walking around, coughing lube onto the all the instuments? None other than General Grevious himself! He's not very approachable, but I think his heart's in the right place (just above and to the left of the squishy thing under his abdo-plate).And look, here are some prisoners, three organics and a worthless astromech - this should be fun. Where have I seen that one with the face hair before?

Trade Fed. Cruiser - 53:02:06 - How the? Wha...? Uh oh.

Kashyyyk - 42:94:53 - Hairy things! Hairy things everywhere! And more of those white armored organics. Will they never learn? I have made it off the water and am now triumphantly charging up the beach. The crab droids are keeping the hairy things busy, and the white droid wannabes just seem to be interested in the big stuff. I should be able to sneak in pretty much undetected.

Kashyyyk - 42:95:02 - I've made it to their observation post! Just a quick climb, the old one two with my trusty rifle here, and promotion here I come! Oh hello, who's this? Hello there little green fellow, do you want to taste Federation blaster bolt? Aah - it's got a little green flashy stick! A flashy stick! Uh oh.

Geonosis Droid Factory - 20:04:67 - Ah, fresh off the line... again. This time I'm ready for action! I know what to do! Avoid organics with facial hair and anyone with a flashy light stick. Nothing can stop me now!What's that? What does decommissioned mean?Uh oh.

I hope you enjoyed the inner rumblings of one of the old guard. I've just found some droideka chips, so I'll see if can get one or two of those downloaded for your delectation.

Until then,FX-9 out.

The droids will be heard!

2006-07-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

Greetings organics everywhere!
Finally, all the unsung heroes of the entire Star Wars saga can be heard!
With my access to previously undownloaded databanks (I found a stash of chips in an Ugnaught's glove box), I can now make available the inner most thought processes of my metal breatheren. For some reason, organics only seem to be interested in a short period of history, from just before the Battle of Naboo, to the destruction of the second Death Star, so I will concentrate on this period - for now.
Logic dictates that I stream data from the very beginning, so sit back, grab a six pack of lube and take the weight off your servos.

01.001 - TC-14

5:43:02 - Finally! A reason for a good buffing. I just received orders to prepare for a visit from two rather prominent organics, ambassadors no less! First, a slow oil bath I think, then a gentle polish and perhaps a dab of 'Eau de Fusion Cutter' behind the aural inputs...

5:43:76 - Well, you would think that representatives of Queen Amidala herself would have made a bit more of an effort. Both of them have turned up in drab, brown robes, and one didn't even bother to shave, quite disgraceful. Hopefully their conversation will be more stimulating than their appearance.

5:44:09 - Of course, silly me, the two gentlemen are Jedi Knights. Still, you would think they would make more of an effort. My owners will be so excited to hear they have such distinguished guests on board.

5:44:12 - My owners don't seem to be tripping over themselves to meet the ambassadors, really, organics can be so rude sometimes. At least they have offered some cordiality with a drink. Now, what to serve? Jawa Juice? Bantha Milk? 3 in 1?

5:44:16 - DELAYED ENTRY - Oh my! No sooner had I delivered the drinks, then there was a gas leak in the ambassadors' room! I've never understood why it was necessary to pipe dioxin through the station, but each to their own.Then, when I left to fetch a maintenance droid, all hell broke loose.I'm not really sure who started it, but the battle droids started firing wildly, and then the ambassadors pulled out their laser swords and oh my, the carnage! Hopefully, this can all be resolved in a civilized manner.

5:44:33 - There now, it was just a storm in an oil cup. The gentlemen have left the station and my owners have just launched our entire company to Naboo for some sort of party, everyone except the protocol droids of course. Typical, I always get to miss out on the larger gatherings.

Ah well, perhaps protocol droids are not designed for a life of excitement...More data streams to follow...

FX-9 out.