Ah'chu Ap'reekee?! (What Do You Want?) - Part One

Posted on Mon Dec 2nd, 2024 @ 12:13am by Ensign Noah Balsam & Lieutenant Xex Wang & Lieutenant Axod Qo & Lieutenant Irynya & Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons

Mission: Mean Green Queen
Location: Jabba's Palace, Holodeck
Timeline: Mission Day 11 at 1800

[Jabba's Palace]
[Tatooine; the Northern Dune Sea]
[A Long Time Ago...]

Episode III...

"Begin Chapter Three," the computer chimed in its femme. The scientific wizardry of the Holodeck was, on occasion, a little too precise. And in the case of this program, that may have been to the diligent programming of its creator. The doors to the hallway of the Sojourner had creaked and ground open- and promptly a desiccating and oppressive heat hit one in the face. From the door opened up a vast and empty sea of sand, so expansive that it caused vertigo. One could see the curve of the world from this rocky outcropping above the dunes. The sound was as eerily correct as the heat was hot: the whistling of dry winds through rocky crevices, whispering over the dunes that seemed, like snow, to buffer the sound.

Two suns hung low in the sky, turning its tawny, dingy color into corals and roses and strange gray-blues.

The holodeck arch had opened out of a mud brick adobe-like structure that towered several stories. But higher up it revealed it wasn't mud brick but sand blasted and sand-caked rusty red metal that looked streaked with corrosion and sun-bleached age. The complex was huge, atop an artificially flattened mesa. Thick round towers stood apart from the main building, like minarets that perhaps something like a Xindi Insectoid or Jarada might build.

In the buffeted silence of the wind, a strange... thing... walked by. On mechanical servos, it had six spindly spider-like robotic legs and a spherical glass body. Inside was a rosy viscous liquid and in the liquid, was a brain. With the whine of its mechanics, it slightly strode by now-Lieutenant Irynya.

The Risian had come prepared. Or at least as prepared as she could be with the details Noah had given her and the minimal bit of research she'd had time to do. The costume had been fun and she'd enjoyed parading through the corridors in it drawing looks of bewilderment as she went. She'd tried to stay true to the general vision, at least. The character she was representing hadn't had the benefit of an hourglass figure and so the first few attempts the replicator had made at fitting the original garments to her dimensions had left her feeling... cartoonish.

Now, though, she took one step forward, glancing down as knee high calfskin boots met the gritty sand of their location with a soft crunching sound. The heat assaulted her as she moved past the threshold of the arch into the scene itself and she found herself further gratified by the modifications she made. Even with them, the hooded cloak she wore, hood obscuring her clothing and casting her face in shadow, felt oppressive. She made a note to ask Noah how anyone decided on full length cloaks as a part of a desert setting.

Two steps more and she was fully immersed, a bead of sweat picking up at the back of her neck making her twitch with the temptation to reach up and itch it. She understood the scene enough, though, to avoid the impulse to cast off her hood. For this part, at least, she was meant to arrive secretly without giving much of her identity away. She grinned, giving herself a moment to appreciate the intense detail of the star warmed red brown rock and the crevasses that spidered outward from where she now stood--a veritable warren of possible paths.

She only paused for a moment though. There was no one there upon arrival so that could only mean she had to go further into the simulation. With a deep breath she turned back to face where the arch had once been. Her eyes met weathered metal filling a massive stone archway. Panels of the metal were set into the door along its front with a thick bumped out base that suggested it might not be merely sitting on the sand. Enormous rivets were hammered into the space holding together... well... she wasn't sure exactly how the door would work. Just that it was big... and metal... and clearly could accommodate someone much larger than herself. She was closer to the door than she had intended and found herself unconsciously taking a few steps back, neck bending so she could peer up to the top of the door.

"What have you gotten us into, Noah," she murmured to herself, amusement coating her tongue as she wondered aloud at his plans.

The words had barely left her lips when something nearly took her head off. A small round portal whipped open and from it barged a strange.... thing. It was made of aged and oxidizing copper- or something like it? It's metal eyelids opened to a milky sphere with a glowing mechanical interface like a gear-shaped eye. With a servo-sound and another, it seemed to obtrusively study Irynya's hooded face.

"Ah'chu Ap'reekee?!" It said in a slurred, deep mechanical voice. Then it jutted forward on its hydraulic neck connected to the door to get in her face again. It made a strange robotic grunt sound. Then it seemed to tilt its eye like it was doubting or questioning. The holodeck's ULT told Irynya that Ah'chu Ap'reekee meant, "What you want?!"

At the appearance of the metallic eye stalk Irynya had scurried a step backward, heart pounding at the jump scare of the thing's appearance. As she moved the slight heel to her boot caught on a rock and her arms flung out. For an awkward moment she teetered and then regained herself, shrugging the disheveled cloak back into place.

As it was she only barely caught the eye stalk's question and was saved by the ULT's translation. It was a funny thing, because despite having the translation she heard the unusual tone and tempo of the original words as well.

She grinned. Noah had prepped her for this part. She mouthed the words to herself first then spoke.

"I have business with Jabba the Hutt," she said staring intensely into the robotic eye.

The robotic eye-on-a-stick blinked and then narrowed itself with suspicion, its copper shell closing in a close mimic of a squint. It chuckle in tinny condescension: "Sa Nenoleeya Jabba!" It jutted back into Irynya's face- so close that she could tell Noah had gone so far as to program it with a rusty smell!' "An Coo Uba Banthaa Pudu?!" The wind kicked out, the fine dust of the desiccating hot desert blowing across "Luke-Irynya's" hooded garb and boots.

Again the Holodeck gave Irynya a translation: Sa Neenoleeya Jabba meant, "Jabba is busy." And An Coo Uba Bantha Pudu! meant, in vulgar fashion, "Who are you, Bantha Excrement?!" Its golden gear-shaped eye, looking like it was alight with dozens of small LEDs within the milky casing, stared at the Risian.

Even knowing it was a holodeck program, the eye robot's sass (could robot's be sassy?) annoyed her and her brow creased in frustration even as her brain raced, trying to figure out how to proceed. Her character--Luke... she made a mental note to ask Noah later if this was one of those names that both men and women had or if it was gendered--had some kind of mental powers to make things do what she wanted. Maybe it worked on cranky eye-stalk-robot door guards.

One slim tan hand raised from beneath her cloak, fingers rotating in a fan-like rotating gesture, "You know who I am," she intoned. "You will let me in."

The robotic eye and its spindly arm flinched back and then narrowed. Then it thrust forward, its eye shifting from golden to red. "Coo uba tinkla, Jedai-pudu? Do pawa hagwa noleewata!" Or, as the Holodeck let her know- "Who do you think you are Jedi-scum?! Your mind tricks no work here!" It made a strange mechanical growl sound and then it thrust back with a whir of hydraulics, the small portal closing with a clang behind it. Its last words were a condescending, "Stupa Jedai!" Stupid Jedi.

"Seriously?" the Risian murmured, annoyance at the creature continuing to build. There was a story to get to and she was being stopped by an eyeball on a stick? So Jedi mind tricks were out. That was fine. She would just have to do it the other way.

Glaring at the door to the round portal through which the thing had retreated she lifted her hand again, this time rapping her knuckles hard against the metal an hissing slightly at the sensation of her skin forcibly grazing the rough surface. The sound that her knock made was unsatisfying. She'd have preferred some kind of deep resonance through the door or something. Instead it was just a short and uninteresting thunk. Dropping her hand to the belt she had wound about her waist she placed her hand on the weapon that Noah had given her hoping with everything she had that she remembered how to turn the thing on.

It was like an encore pantomime. The small round door bolted open, as if the knock itself were the trigger, and the hydraulic arm kicked the copper glad, frosty-eyed droid. It's eye blinked its gear-shape in amber. "Ah'chu Ap'reekee?!" It ground in its slurred low-tinny voice. But when Irynya wasn't where it's programming had expected, it made a strange grunting sound: almost a droid like version of a "Huh?"

Even though it happened in a matter of seconds it felt as if the whole encounter was slowed down. As she stepped aside, the Risian thumbed open the holster that held the strange cylindrical tube. She grasped it like she might if she were holding a stick in one hand, and compressed the button that was meant to turn the device on. As the droid repeated it's original demand a long green cylinder of light sprang from one end of the thing with a buzzing electrical sort of sound.

Iry was thrilled that she'd gotten it right on the first try without even looking at the device until, she smelled the slight singing scent of hot fabric and looked down. The lightsaber -- that's what Noah had called it -- had deployed downward instead of out and she now had a freshly cauterized slit in her cloak.

"Shit, shit shit," she muttered, swinging it upward and only barely avoiding making another cut in her costume.

Thankfully the droid was far from on it and when it didn't see her right away it held its place so that even with a wild upward swing of the new green-toned light blade, Irynya was able to catch it between the stalk and the eye interface. A schwinging sound echoed as her saber sheered through the metal followed by the thunk of the eye meeting the sand. Wide eyed, Irynya held the weapon an arms length out from her body,

"Forget mind magic. This thing is amazing," she said, and then turned back to the door.

Sparking glitters and sputtering discharges of plasma and smoke were all that was left of the spindly neck. "Ah'chu... A.... prrrrrrr...eeee......." The eye in the sand growled before its lights flickered off. The door, however, clicked. It was as if something had shorted out the mechanisms of teh door, or the end of the obtrusive little droid had unlocked something. But the heavy, corroded red and sand-caked door opened into a wide ramp, plunging into darkness with only a dull glow of amber at the other end. Strange wailing music- discordant multi-toned singing, drums, bizarre nasally flutes- was at the other side.

[A little longer than a Long Time Ago...]
[The North Dune Sea, Tatooine]
[The day beforehand — in holodeck time, at least]

Episode I...

"Begin Chapter One..." the Computer intoned in its pleasant but unemotive tone.

Walking atop the sand-encrusted path to Jabba’s Palace — forebodingly-visible in the distance — was a tall, lanky figure bedecked entirely in an exoskeleton of gold-plated parts. The “droid” moved with exaggerated and shuffling steps, arms akimbo and disjointedly waving around as the figure took in the worrying landscape and the desert fortress ahead. But as the droid slowly moved forward, the dying sunlight glinting off his metal plating and shiny head, a sudden bleating of electronic tones came from his right.

There, trundling at the goldenrod’s side, was another droid. This one was resplendent in white and blue metal, a dome of chrome sitting atop its squat, stout body as the droid rolled forward on treads beneath its primary legs and a third foot that extended centrally forward under its back-leaning body. As it continued moving forward, its silvery dome swiveled quickly towards the first droid, another barrage of beeps issuing from it as an ocular lens looked up at its taller companion. The droid seemed impatient.

“I know it’s in character but I don’t know what any of those noises mean,” came the prissy response of the golden droid, who’d stopped in his tracks to regard the shorter one. “The Universal Translator does not, apparently, speak astromech. So how about a little help? You don’t have to use the sound effect soundboard in there, you know,” the shinier droid stated matter-of-factly, lightly banging the chrome dome of its companion with a golden hand. The respondent clang rang through the desert.

It was, at that point, that a hatch in the droid’s body — situated in front, underneath the dome — was slid aside by the occupant inside the shorter droid. The opening in the metal shell revealed a face artificially de-aged with makeup and feathery, purple hair that seemed intent on escaping the carapace of metal droid drag. A big bubble of violent-pink gum bloomed from the face before popping, that sound, too, reverberating across the sands.

“I said,” Debbie Gless as R2-D2 sighed and responded with customary hawkishness, “I only have an hour before my shift at the diner. If you keep walking in character like that, it’ll take us hours to get to the palace. Hurry it up, would ya?!” For good measure, Debbie — the bulk of her height and body hidden somehow by holodeck magic — stabbed at the soundboard inside her shell, issuing forth another blurt of agitated electronic tones.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Sheldon Parsons as C3-PO replied, doubling down on the priss and staying in character via demeanor if not actual word choice. Reaching up, he clicked a button on the chin of his droid-helmet, which released the faceplate. Sheldon hinged it upward, letting it stay suspended in the air as he regarded Debbie with scrunched up face.

“If you only have an hour,” his voice was now normal, no longer robot-filtered by the helmet, “then why did you volunteer to play today? I’m not responsible for your choices, Debbie. And this,” Sheldon started shuffling slowly forward again, “is how a protocol droid walks. How he walked,” the young man said with total reverence for the character he was inhabiting. “If you’re so impatient, why don’t you just fly over there and I’ll catch up when I catch up?”

BLATT!! Beeooop, BLATT BLATT! Again the sounds issues from the shorter droid, but it was from Debbie’s mouth, of course, that the actual words issued. “Because if you loved these movies as much as you say you do,” the matron muttered, “you’d know R2 didn’t actually fly until those horrible prequel films. So I’m stuck rolling along next to you. So either walk faster or skip us ahead. Got it?” The pointed look she gave Sheldon made it very clear she’d reached her saturation point with his shenanigans.

“Oh fine,” Sheldon said, pulling the faceplate back down over his face. “Computer,” his voice was once again tinged with the robotic-edge produced from the microphone in his helmet, “skip ahead to arrival at the palace. Immersion be damned, apparently.” As he gave the command, he saw Debbie slide her face hatch closed in satisfaction. He wanted to stick his tongue out at her but…you know, faceplate.

In response to the command given, though, the world around them blurred, reconfigured, and then solidified into a new setting. The two droids were now situated in front of a large, imposing metal door caked with decades of dust, rust, and must. As the pair of droids moved closer, a dingy droid-eye-on-a-stick flashed out from its hidey-hole in the door, eyelid snapping open as the eye itself — its lens dancing with golden lights — studied the two droids. A burst of Huttese came from the eye then: though the words were foreign, the intent was clear: “What do you want?!”

“R2-Deb-toah,” Sheldon replied in his approximation of Huttese, gesturing at his companion even as the droid gave a bleating greeting, “o Shel-3PO-ah,” the golden droid indicated himself by way of introduction. “Ay tuta mishka Jabba du Hutt?” This was asked with reservation, as if 3PO were afraid the answer to his request for an audience with Jabba would be “Yes.”

The eye, however, gave no definitive answer and, instead, blurted something unintelligible and rather reminiscent of laughter before disappearing back through the hatch in the door. A few long moments of quiet stretched out, cementing the idea that their audience had likely been denied.

“I don’t think they’re going to let us in, R2,” 3PO looked down at his counterpart. “We’d better go,” he nodded before turning about in preparation of leaving.

The hatch in R2’s shell suddenly opened again, Debbie’s face once more visible. “Of course they’re going to let us in. It’s part of the plot. I thought you’d seen this movie? Don’t tell me I’m a bigger geek than you are with this stuff. Stay put, Mister Prisster. That’s an order.”

“No no,” came Sheldon’s frustrated retort, “that’s what my character said in the movie. He’s scared about being let inside and is hoping they — err, we,” he clarified, “will be turned away so this whole fiasco can be avoided. He’s a super anxious droid, you see, and fear kind of rules his life.”

“Huh,” Deb2 blew and popped another bubble, “sound like anyone else we know?” Inside the dome, the sound of Debbie’s gold hoop earrings hitting the metal could be heard as she tried move her head emphatically to underscore her point.

Before Shel-3PO could reply, though, the huge metal door suddenly groaned and began to lift, many motes of sand drifting down from the door’s lip in the arid breeze of the dying day. Before the door had lifted sufficiently to clear 3PO’s height, however, the shorter astromech unit had already begun to roll inside, intent on getting the damned plot going while Debbie had time to enjoy it. A staccato of beeps and bloops invited Sheldon to follow.

“R2! Wait!” Sheldon exclaimed, moving forward himself. Crossing into the darkness inside, however, a resigned “Oh dear…” could be heard as he realized just how far Deb had gotten ahead. “R2, wait for meeeee,” the golden-droid wailed dramatically — arms flailing in mock(?) panic — as the door began to groan closed behind them, sealing them off from the desert outside.

The desert…and their freedom. For you see, the droids had just entered into the service of Jabba the Hutt as slaves. They just didn’t know it yet. Well, at least their characters didn’t. Debbie and Sheldon, though…well, that was all part of the plan, wasn’t it?

[Inside Jabba's Palace]
[Nightfall]
[A little later than A Long Time Ago... but still really far back]

Episode II-I...

"Begin Chapter Two, Scene One..." the Majel Barrett voice stated over the Holodeck

The snore was shrill and nasal, the smacking of its lips wet yet chitinous. Boushh's breath, too, was metallic, as if through the filter in their face. The figure, thin and lanky, crept through the dark halls. Boushh eyed the source of the snore: within the dark alcove of His Majesty's Main Audience Chamber was a strange... creature. It looked like it had mange. It had floppy bat ears and a hard black cheek. Yet its body was something between a monkey and an emaciated sloth. Its beady eyes were closed, arms folded prissily against its chest. Boushh had watched it for a time, until it had fallen asleep. Before it had been watching- like a predator- the swaying worm-like tail of the great Jabba.

Boushh sensed this was their chance. They crept past the chamber, nodding to a masked figure who also skulked in darkness standing guard in the penumbra. This one- tall and muscular, in a strange helm that looked to have a face protection of bone and teeth and a neck guard of something Samuraiesque- had bronzed skin and... spots? Boushh approached. In a strange and metallic-squeaky voice, made staccato through its breathing filter, Boushh spoke. "God its hard to b-breathe in this thing..." A slim gloved hand moved up and sort of pull the mask and face-plate forward just enough for a breath of fresh air.

This Boushh creature almost looked like a Breen. A darkened visor projected forward from a muzzled face just like a Breen. Even the palette of rusts, tans and creams that were the desert fashion of the bounty hunter were a callback to the Breen Primarch legionnaire's attire. Though... this one was awfully thin to be a Breen.

"He's there," the spotted man with bronze skin and strange, gnarly mask said. "Good luck." Dravor gestured to a dais with closed drapes, a place that seemed to be erected for mocking honor. Pieces of broken, old fruits and even chunks of awful meaty... somethings... lay discarded, likely the remnants of projectiles thrown at the thing behind the curtain.

Boushh nodded once, and slinked forward with the air of a cautious cat knowing somewhere within that it was the prey not the predator. They approached the frozen visage of Axod, a rictus of pain and sudden chill on desiccated features, hands forming something akin to a death grip of a possum. With a quick head whip around, Boushh's breathing grew erratic under their Breen-like visage. Their lean body shifted and fingers tapped at several dramatically large and conspicuous buttons on a keypad.

It took a few moments as the thick, almost frozen mercury like texture of the frozen man, began to pulse and then drip away. The figure within glowed... and then it was Axod's cue to stumble from the carbonite frame he'd been frozen from.

Ax/Han fell forward slowly. Disoriented from the experience of being frozen in place in a block of corbonite. He fell into a prone position on the floor. Uncontrollably, his body trembled as though he were freezing. He reached a shaking hand to his eyes, which were veiled, obscuring Ax's view of his surroundings.

Boushh- who seemed to struggle to prop up the broader man- grunted and was finally able to get Axod on his back. "You're free of the carbonite," Boushh explained in their strange and garbled voice. "Your vision will return to you."

Ax's hands shook as he attempted to ascertain his surroundings. He continued to shiver as he struggled in Boushh's grip. Waves of nausea came and went and came again. "Where...where am I?" He asked, sounding truly confused and scared.

Boushh answered, "Jabba's Palace."

Lifting a hand cautiously, to try and make out who had released him from his carbonite prison. Feeling the Breen Shaped helmet that his companion wore, Ax's hand recoiled. "Who are you?!" He asked with a raised voice. His words were unsteady.

Boushh- who was meant to whip off their helmet in a flourish- instead struggled. They grunted, long fingers in gloves pushing at the jaw. "Sh... shit... sorry one sec..." It dislodged. And Boushh was able to pull off their helmet. Noah had... epic hat-hair, his black tresses static-laden and matted. "Someone who loves you!" He managed to get out in the breathy, near-smoky husk of his character's original inspiration.

The sound of Noah's voice was not what Ax/Han had expected. An amused smile crossed his face. "Noah... or ermmmmm?" He couldn't remember what the character's name was meant to be, though clearly they were love interests.

"Leia, yeah." Noah's nose wrinkled as with a clatter he set his helmet down on the rough Tatooine regolith of Jabba's Palace. "Or the... guy version of her... anyway, I'm here to rescue you, Han."

"Let's get out of here!" Axod proclaimed, disoriented (and scared if he was honest with himself). "How do we do that?" He asked his new companion, gripping Noah's arm for stability.

"We've got fr-" Noah began. There was a dark and resonant chuckling. The chuckling turned boastful, with a cacophony of discordant sycophantic giggles. The darkness died in a wash of dim, gaudy yellow light as the entourage of Jabba the Hutt- and the large worm like gangster on his hover-sled- made themselves known with a sweep of heavy curtains. "We've got company..." Noah said, dreading. He raised his blaster.

A sickly, pasty looking man with strange head tentacles and jaundiced yellow eyes flourished his nailed fingers as the large worm-like mafioso said something in his guttural language. "Jabba says," he said in a thin, reedy but smoky voice, "You should have remembered your thermal detonator little man. And Han you should have paid your debts."

Roughly, two piggish, Tellarite-demon like guards grabbed Han and Boushh, wrestling them to stand before the massive slug.

"I was going to pay, I swear." Han/Ax said, facing where he thought Jabba was. "I was on my way to pay you, I just got sidetracked." He still couldn't see anything beyond the veiling that covered his eyes.

The slug-like Jabba burped, holding some kind of fish or amphibian to his green-slimed lips. "It is too late for that. Take him." The piggish creature snorted, squealed and moved to haul away Axod to the cruel jeers and cheering of Jabba's alien menagerie. Meanwhile the Gamorrean facsimile that had Noah by the neck grappled him, shoving him toward the maw of the great Hutt.

"We have... p-powerful fr-" Noah's eyes rolled as the holographic programmed breath wafted over his face. "Oh jeez, kay-kay, may have overdone the realism there." He coughed. "We have powerful friends. They-they will come for us!" He defied. "You're gonna regret this."

"I'm sure," Jabba said, translated through his translator. Then the putrid-smelling slug licked his chopped, the vesiculated tongue wiggling out to touch Noah's lips and cheek. He genuinely cringed in disgust with a smear of sticky green go across his face.

[The Dungeons of Jabba's Palace]
[Nightfall]
[Just After a Long Time Ago, Above]

Episode II-II...

"Begin Chapter Two, Scene Two..."

These things looked like some kind of Tellarite demonic nightmare: sickly green skin, smelling of rancid bacon and sweat; drooling, squealing and snorting. They wore ragged furs that seems only to cover their most modest parts, and not very well. One carried some kind of wicked looking halberd axe. Their bestial faces were porcine much like a Tellarite but even more pronounced. And it was questionable how much intelligence was behind their eyes.

The one that wasn't carrying the halberd has a stumbling man in its grasp.

The holodeck was programmed to obscure the Doosodarian's vision, making him stumble as he was led through the damp dungeons of Jabba's Palace. He was still stiff from his time in his holographic carbonite prison. His notes had mentioned something about hibernation sickness. Since he had no real experience with the ailment, he simply moaned at varying points to convey his characters discomfort. "Take it easy fella." He said to the beastlike guard, "This'd be a lot easier if I could see where you were taking me."

The answer was inexplicable: a snort and a squeal and redoubled holds of dragging the fit Doosodarian in his blinded state. Then they halted suddenly and there was a clatter. Metallic squealing, metallic wrenching. And then a creak. And Axod's body was pushed forward into a hot arid room. The holographic filter over his eyes, blurring under a milky haze, there was dappled sensations of light. Not daylight. More like jaundiced sodium yellow light. The floor was packed sand, inches of it, over hard sand.

A low grunt escaped from somewhere deep within Axod as he hit the floor. "Gentle." He called out to his captors. He reached out and felt around until he found the room's wall. Using it to steady himself as he stood from the ground. "Jeez. You could've warned me." Even thought he couldn't see them, he brushed off his knees as he stood.

“Oh shit.” The curse was muffled somewhat by the costume Xex had managed to replicate based on the notes Noah and Sheldon had given him, but the voice was still noticeably the doctor’s, it’s proper tonality in no way diminished by the coarse words. “I mean, raaar. Wharw? Grawr,.” The monologue came from a tall furry figure with lanky limbs and pointed canines who stepped out of the shadows of the cell, trying out a variety of ‘roars’ before asking pointedly, “How is he supposed to understand Rawwrrww? Oh bugger it— that is, raaaaawh.” The Wookie stooped and helped 'Han' gain his feet, immediately pulling the half-blind man against his furred chest in an unmistakable gesture of relief and affection, cradling his head there, stroking the Doosodorian’s hair. “Actions will have to do,” Xex muttered to himself and then more loudly said, “Rar.”

Ax listened intently to the noises around him until he felt the furry embrace. "Xex or ummm Chewie, is that you?" He asked. "What are you doing in here?" His question was half based in real life and half in character. There was something very comforting about having Xex there with him when he was unable to see. It made him feel safe. relatively speaking.

'Chewbacca' left off stroking Axod's hair, grasping him by the shoulders and thrusting him back just far enough that he could get a good look at him. The big furry paws patted him down, while within the costume (which had come out rather more cute than menacing) Xex said, "Raaaawr. Grwar." Then, remembering that he was supposed to be filling his friend in on the state of the rescue, he let out a series of roars, none of which sounded especially convincing, but all of which seemed to be getting more raw as the doctor worked vocal chords he rarely had chance to use.

Axod was still disoriented from the veil that covered his field of vision. Being thrust about by this hulking creature, played by his roommate Xex, wasn't helping matters.The translator was working overtime to decipher what the roars meant. "Luke? Luke is gonna rescue us?" Ax asked perplexed. "Is that what you're trying to say?" Han/Ax was incredulous. "Isn't he a child... he's a child right? He can't even take care of himself, how is supposed to rescue anyone.""

"Raaaaawr! Grar rar raaar grawr," Chewie agreed, which seemed to translate to, 'He's got a plan. But just in case, we'd better be ready.' Then after a moment's thought, the big hairy head tilted to the side and the wookie asked, "Wrar rar?" which seemed to mean, 'You sure you're ok?'

Han nodded that he understood, even though Ax only understood bits and pieces of what was being said. "Besides not being able to see, I'm peachy." He wanted to laugh, but he was still very disoriented. Having Xex nearby to keep him steady was certainly helping, but he wanted to be able to see again, that's what would help mkore than anything.

Chewie clapped his friend on the back, perhaps a little too heavily-- Xex was having trouble moving smoothly in the huge suit-- growling a consolatory noise at Han. 'You'll be alright,' seemed to be the message. He then lapsed into silence which only lasted a few moments before Xex's precise tones could be heard from within the suit in a quiet aside, "Isn't something supposed to happen about now?"

Ax searched his mind, trying to remember the story primer he'd read, or rather skimmed, before the allotted Holodeck time. His schedule kept him from being able to do much research and so he was just as lost as Xex.

When nothing immediately happened, Xex clapped a big paw to the top of Ax-Han's head, feeling his face and saying, "Rawr, rar?" How were his eyes doing? Certainly they couldn't even think about escape-- and he was pretty sure they were supposed to escape at some point-- if Ax-Han couldn't even see.

"Yes! Escape, of course." Ax/Han said, trying to find his footing amid his continued disorientation. "How exactly do you propose we do that?" He moved around as though he was looking for something that could assist in the matter.

[Concurrent]
[Jabba’s Palace]
[Sub Level 3]

They’d been led three levels deep into the palace, a grotesque pig-like Gamorrean guard prodding Shel-3PO in the back with a rusted, axe-esque weapon. The creature had grunted with impatience at the droid’s pace at several points along the way but the goldenrod’s costume — along with a flair for character and method-acting — had ensured the pace remained frustratingly slow. R2-Deb2 kept impatiently rolling ahead and then stopping, swiveling her dome to look back at her much-slower counterpart.

After far too long of a walk, the pair of droids had been led to their destination. Walking into a rather industrial-looking workshop, there were many other droids there, too, all in various stages of disrepair it seemed. One in particular — looking rather like a large trash can — was being rotated upside down so that a glowing brand could be applied to the soles of its “feet.” Something like a voice-modulated scream issued from its bin, calling out in concert with the hiss of the burning brand.

3PO hastened his pace then in alarm, trundling past the upside-down droid as he was led to another. This one — looking like something of a dark droid overlord — stood near a suspended rack from which another droid hung as if on display. Its arms were restrained to the top corners of the rack while its feet were connected to the bottom corners. It looked as if this particular droid might be hanging there in preparation of being whipped or something.

Or at least, that was how it looked to R2, whose dome swiveled to regard the droid curiously before turning back to 3PO.

“Kinky,” the brassy woman — comically disguised as the little droid by holodeck magic — snarked from the door that opened in the dome, revealing her severe face. She blew another big bubble and, after it popped, asked, “Wonder if he’s into cat-o-nines or single points?”

“Debbie!” Sheldon hissed, not bothering to open the faceplate of his helmet. “Stay in character!” He, himself, did not even understand what Debbie was asking but he knew it wasn’t in the script.

The woman rolled her eyes but looked sufficiently rebuffed as the dome door slid closed again. And just in time, too, because The Overlord droid had started speaking to them.

“Ah, new acquisitions,” it said with a gravelly tone. “You are a protocol droid are you not?” The question was clearly posed to the taller of the pair.

“I am C-3PO, human-cyborg rela—“

“Yes or no will do,” the Overloard cut the golden droid off. “How many languages do you speak?”

Sheldon had been excited for this particular exchange, knowing it was coming up in the simulation. He’d always wanted to voice the official C-3PO introduction and, though he’d just been cut off, the other droid gave him an excuse to continue it.

“I am fluent in over six million forms of communication and can—“

The droid cut him off again. “Splendid. We have been without an interpreter since our master got angry with our last protocol droid…and disintegrated him,” it added, gesturing to the droid suspended on the rack beside him.

It was, at that moment, that the rack expanded, the torque pulling at the droid’s arms and legs. Its right leg gave way to the pull first, exploding off at the waist joint as the droid screamed with what sounded like intense pain. Then an arm exploded off and the droid went quite limp, its motivators overloaded.

“Oh!” Shel-3PO exclaimed, this time a natural reaction of shock and more than a little fear. “Th-the safeties are on for this right?!” he turned to Deb2, akimbo arms flailing.

“Decidedly less kinky,” came a muffled response from within the dome. The fun and games of kink usually stopped at dismemberment…at least for her. “And uh…I think so? Hope so, anyway, for your sake,” Debbie smirked under her dome.

“Guard!” the Overlord exclaimed to the stinky pig-man. “This protocol droid might be useful. Fit him with a restraining bolt and take him up to His Excellency’s main audience chamber.”

The Gammorean affixed said bolt and pushed 3PO back the way they’d come, the golden droid shouting, “R2! Don’t leave me!” A haunting “ohhhhhh” echoed down the hall as Sheldon was led away, the program taking him to his pre-programmed station for this particular simulation.

Deb2’s dome swiveled back to the Overloard. If she were capable of cocking her head to the side, she would have. But instead, she regarded the droid with what could only be described as rigid defiance as she rocked her body back and forth on her pivot points.

“What about me, tin man?” she issued challengingly, the program translating her speech into beeps and boops for the other droid’s benefit. Somehow the translated tones carried the hawkish tinge to her voice.

“You’re a feisty little one,” the Overlord replied, “but you’ll soon learn some respect.” The droid rose to its full height then, becoming something more of an imposing figure as it stood over Deb2. “I have need of you on the master’s sail barge and I think you’ll fill in nicely...”

She was led away as another droid was branded, its screams echoing down the hallway after her. And little did she remember from the plot of this particular movie, Debbie was about to become a food and drink server…again.

A Post By:

C3PO (Sheldon Parsons)
R2D2 (Debbie)
Luke Skywalker (Irynya)
Leia Skywalker (Noah Balsam)
Chewbacca (Xex Wang)
Han Solo (Axod Qo)
Tamtel Skreej (Tamblem Dravor)

Also:

Jabba the Hutt
Bib Fortuna
Gatekeeper Droid