"I should point out that she is a he. Voice and programming." She cast her arms around indicating at the group. "This unit doesn't fit into any standardisation, nor does it equipment." Beskad walked over basically confirming her previous statement. "Besk, meet my new buddy. New Buddy meet Besk." She slapped him on the arm, somewhat playfully. "He's always so serious, forgets that not everything is about fighting and bloodshed." Her face adpted a wishful look. "When what we're fighting for is going to be so much more..."

She laughed. "Anyway if you drop by the medbay at some point I am usually there, I tend to sleep on a spare bed rather than in my quarters. It's just down the hall, can't miss it. Just follow the screams of pain, the crying and the smell of blood and filth." She gave him a smirk. "Also don't worry about the Vets, they're as close as family-" she turned to Beskad "Aren't you Uncle Besky?" She laughed. "Anyway they've been through a lot together, and the best way to deal with that is making light off it. If you stick around, mingle. Prove your worth you'll be part of the family in no time and if it comes to it there's always something you can do around here." She turned and walked away, turning again to face him as she walked backwards, extending her arms shouting slightly. "And welcome aboard the Intruder, finest ship in the Navy!" There were a couple of laughs at that as she walked away.

She stopped beside the Sarge. "How's the latest scar looking?"

"You got without me man," Toland told Betuu, "I need to go grab my gear and hopefully get that IM-6 up and running. You go show these guys how a battle droid shoots.

"Roger roger," Betuu bluntly replied. Making a full turn, Betuu marched away from the group, pushing past newbies and vets alike to get out of the hold. Toland rubbed his temple as he watched the big Super Battle Droid litterally push two people out of his way and out the exit.

"I try my best with him," Toland admitted, "but he still has some old Sep tendencies that I can't shake out of him. He's a big teddy bear inside. A big, angry militarized teddy bear with built in guns..."

Toland gave a mock salute to Tadia's as she left, trying his best not to panic alone. Mingle...right, he repeated in thought.
--------------

Betuu was the first to get to the firing range since most were still conversing at in the hold. He didn't care for most fleshy small talk. He tolerated Toland, only because he had rebuilt him from a rusted hulk and saved him from those touchy little things. Jawas, he remembered. Betuu had trouble remembering a lot before he met Toland.

Sometimes he can vividly pull up a recording from his cache from when he was manufactured. Slimey Geonosians all around him. The recording jumps to a battle outside the facility, he thinks. Fleshies with lightsabers. Jedi. He thinks he killed one, or it might of been the tank behind him. He preferred having it on his kill count.

After that everything is just frames of different locations and the scars of corruption.

Betuu uncocked his arm and took aim at the targets. He started off with his basic dual cannon. Twin blaster rounds pierced through the air and struck the target dead on. Double bullseye. The droid switched to his triShot system and fired, unleashing a blaster pistol sized shotgun blast. The three laser spread landed millimeters away from dead center, the tightest Betuu could get it.

Besk followed the droid, essentially, but not before letting the other new arrivals know, "I'll be running those function checks today, so make sure you find the armory and range before I find you." The doc felt he was too serious about the work, but Besk didn't survive this long by not knowing when to be serious; he and Sola got their yayas out on shore leave separately because being lovers on a ship together was a bit like being married -- you got to know someone all too well in that proximity, and shore leave was understood to be a situation where they went their separate ways for a couple days. After liberty, back together.

He wasn't sure if that constituted a relationship, but it was war and Besk was a 'love the one you're with' kind of guy. The sentiment floated around Vanguard; the Sarge got lots of that from the rear-echelon mother-frakkers a lot, and rumor had it she'd occasionally go with the right REMF at the right time, because she was a woman that cleaned up well and the Alliance still had a gender imbalance among the humans despite its progressive attitude -- Mon Mothma was a woman, but theoretical equality and actual egalitarianism were two different things. Uslamers, by the by, managed better than most to bridge the gap; housands of years of practice.

So he was comfortable giving the doc the middle finger when she called him "Uncle Besky." Old argument.

They didn't have much of a range, but at least they actually had one at all. It was converted from the hold into a place where the troops could work on accuracy skills, but he had a crew bunk nearby it that he could use. CR-90 Corvettes came in all sorts of configurations, but the Intruder was a fast ship with a limited cargo hold and extra bunks for troops, outfitted to handle a platoon sized complement of people that handled the business at the sharp end of the operation, up close and personal. In short, it was designed for small sized, high value, very illegal shipments as well as boarding operations to get such valuable items. It just happened to suit Rebel service needs in that regard.

The weapons locker was near an aft-facing loading ramp, which allowed for a low-altitude parachute extraction of supplies smuggled in, as the ship was also a blockade runner when called for it. To accommodate that, the drydock cut out some of the ventral engine and shifted them toward the port and starboard, while cutting out a significant portion of the lowest deck and cargo area to make room for a Katarn-class boarding shuttle that could be fit flush on the ship; it took up significant freight room, but it was ideal for making fast strikes. That had more engines than the spec, and was designed to fit in as well; the nose-mounted airlock with the plasma torches were standard on the Katarn...but the extra engine power at the expense of space wasn't.

In any case, Betuu was there blowing away targets, "Well, nothing wrong with your weaponry, Betuu, you shoot better than Stormtroopers. Just be sure to report any diagnostic results on weaponry accuracy that show more than a 2% degradation, it probably means something needs calibrating with tools." More than a lot of the other replacements, anyway. The droid mechanic might know droids, but Besk knew how things that went pow worked. He also knew how to turn blaster charge packs into explosives and a lot of other things that made him a terrorist in the eyes of the Empire and a useful kriffing guy in the eyes of the Alliance, but he still found the droid shudder-inducing in a sense.

Of course, these were the battle droids that terrorized the galaxy until someone decided to make clone soldiers to meet the threat. A super battle droid was like an armored support vehicle more than a proper infantryman in his mind, good for laying down suppressive fire, but as a former guerrilla, he knew that stealth, cover and good judgment could never quite be emulated in programming...as well as creativity. In their business, a battle droid had its ups and downs, and this one didn't seem to be quite agile enough for the practically nose-to-nose boarding actions 1st Platoon fought, but it still had uses. Anyway, it was an unforgiving type of combat that tended to disfavor inexperience anyway, and Betuu made up for low maneuverability and bulk in a lot of other ways.

The business was serious; he had a couple other of the new recruits there for his function checks. He opened up the guts, checked the circuitry, made sure the gas lines for the tibanna was good and checked the chambers for any flaws. It was routine stuff, but Besk was a believer in weapons function checks. He didn't have the most sophisticated setup, like a whole shop, but rather a makeshift situation that involved lots of small hand tools and spare parts that could be put to use.

Serossa Sekula set her eyes on the Replacement that approached her, and offered his hand. He had her attention. She listened to his introduction...and then she turned her attention away from him, to the entire room. Without skipping a beat Sekula spoke up with a loud bark that emphasised the typically understated husky nature in the NCO's voice. "LIBERATORS; Corporals conduct a muster, and get me a list of everyone."

If she had to go chase some Replacement out of a rack, now was the time. Or, rather, if she had to send a Corporal to go chase some Replacement out of a rack. Only then did her head turn back to the Replacement in front of her, and the hint of a smile come to her lips. A hint of a tease. "No, I'm the other six foot blonde that tells all of you what to do."

Only then did she take his hand with her right hand and offer a quick shake, a thin line of scarred bright red flesh cutting across just above every knuckle on her hand but her thumb. "How can I help you?"

"Sergeant Sekula I presume? My name is Antares...Thanner Antares."

Thanner extended his hand, as the Sergeant wheeled around to address the room. He couldn't help but laugh, as he has just employed the same social tactic against the gesturing soldier only moments earlier. It was typical posturing. Sekula turned to face him once more, this time acknowledging the agent's offer and shaking his hand, albeit briefly.

"How can I help you?" asked the Sergeant.

He heard the question clearly, but deliberately paused for a moment as he took notice of the scar on Sekula's hand. He knew he would be able to use it to his advantage, at the proper moment.

"I'm not sure you can help me Sergeant," said Thanner, choosing each word very carefully, "A former Imperial in the midst of this rabble, whatever is a man to do."

The skeptical undertone in Thanner's statement was quite deliberate. In truth, he was confident in Sekula's ability as a leader, which was far more than he could say for Lieutenant Byron, and he was intent on winning the Sergeant over as an ally by challenging her in this way. She was a woman that had thrived in a man's world, a feat that required true strength of character. He admired her resolve greatly and knew she would be a valuable asset to him during his time in the regiment.

Thanner took Sekula's injured hand gently, running his thumb across her scarred knuckles in a a shrewd and calculated way, flashing a smile as he did so.

"I'm sure there must be a story to go along with it?" Thanner said quietly, "You certainly seem like a woman with a few tales to tell."

Hayca smirked at Keller. "He said that we were going to keep doing stuff our way, didnt he?" She chuckled as she looked over Keller's picks and nodded. "Seems like a fair bet to me. But remember, no cheating. If one of our picks gets 'accidentily' blown into space by a friendly thermal detonator then it doesnt count, alright?" The Imperial Keller placed his bet on thought that it was a good idea to antagonise him by responding with a not so subtle threat. He then walked off to Sekula. Hayca placed a hand on Keller's shoulder and her smile disappeared. "Although I guess we could make an exception for once."

Right at that moment the SBD which had been standing there for a while started moving to the shooting range and guess who stood in it's way. The droid forced its way past both Keller and Hayca. "Aargh! Watch where you're going you useless bucket of bolts!" Who ever programmed that droid should have maybe programmed some manners into that thing. But, atleast it got her mind of the Imperial. She looked over at Keller. "How about we observe some of the rookies at the firing range? Might be able to annoy little old Besky abit aswell, you think he has finally been able to requisition that Z-6 I've been begging for?" She said with a grin.

She didnt wait for his reply as she was already walking towards the firing range. On her way out she passed the sarge, to whom she gave a nod, and the Imperial. She was very tempted to give him a shove but decided not to, since he was talking to the sarge. Once she got the the firing range the SBD was already tearing through the targets. She walked up to Beskad and interupted what he was doing by ruffeling his hair. "Hey Besk, what are you doing? Something to do with tech or explosives... or both?"

"Roger roger," Betuu replied to the Corperal as he cocked his arm back inwords. "I will retrieve Priavte Vas' equipment for inspection. Do you require his presence?"

Before the battle droid could get a response, one of the verterans stumbled into the armory with alchohl still tainting his breath.

"Hey!," the soldier shouted, "there's that stupid fucking droid that pushed me! Stupid Seperatist shit pushed me!"

The veteran looked over to the captain and pointed at Betuu. "Corperal! That fucking droid pushed me! Why are we letting goddamn death bots push people!" Betuu just stood quietly, waiting for his inquiry to be satisfied.

---------

Toland wasn't far behind Tadia as he noticed the Sarge and another recruit like himself. He had heard small rumors surrounding the guy, how he was a former Imerial and heels bring down Uslam. Toland didn't have any love for Uslam personally, but could understand the outrage.

"Hey," Toland greeted as he stepped up to Tadia. "You want to show me your droid? Betuu probably has my gear by now and has all of that settled. Better for me to do something useful then show off my nonexistent marksman skills."

Tadia shrugged as the Imperial came over - small ship, big mouths - and began speaking to the Sgt, before rubbing her scars. "You better have clean hands, if that gets infected it's on you. Also if your fingers get broken, your fault too." With that Toland came over and spoke to her about the droid. She just sighed. "You know, you're going to need to gather some form of marksmanship skills sooner or later. Even I can shoot a gun, and hit something." A couple of the veterans stopped on the way passed giving her looks. "I can hit stuff most of that time." They continued giving the look.

"Do you want medical treatment in the future?" With that they walked off. She turned her attention back to Toland. "What did I tell you? One big happy family. Full of some absolute-" The new Lieutenant walked past "-amazing people." She winked at Toland. "Come with me I'll show you Iggy. Don't ask me how he got the name I got him with it, I just kinda rolled with it." She turned signalling down the hall in a Move out! gesture before walking out of the hanger. The ship was in... various states of disrepair. A couple of the panels were original though a large portion of them seemed to have been replaced to either take the place of damaged ones or to fit in some form of upgrade to the ship. Even in her pirate days a lot of work had been done to the ship, so they were told. She walked into the med-bay, like all med-bays it was largely white and sterile with a couple of stains here and there.

Four beds lay side by side, two of them occupied and there was space for a bacta tank at either end of the room as well as what would be presumed as a door into surgery. Plants littered most of the free spaces in order to try and create a nice smell, however you could still smell the oil and hydrulic smell that inhabited most of the ship. As they entered a small droid tried to hover off one of the beds, falling ot the floor and almost scraping along the floor in their general direction. "Toland, meet Iggy. He's like my pet, but more useless." She bent down as if speaking to a small animal, changing her tone of voice.

"Isn't that right Iggy?""Affirmative." She stood up. "Told you."

"Hi Iggy," Toland began, "your boss here told me that you haven't been doing well lately. I'm here to help. You can call me a doctor of sorts. A droid doctor! Top ten in my class in The Grand Skakoan Insitute of Droid Technologies."

It was obvious that the issue here wasn't just some bad Cybot Galacitic longevity issues. Well, it was a part of the problem. No something else was keeping the little droid down. Toland turned to Tadia, his mind racing at different possibilities. The first thing that came to mind was Iggy's modifications. A small model droid like a IM-6 would have issues hovering after a while with non-factory standard mods.

"Ok so I have some ideas brewing," he told her. "Do you have spare small power cells laying around?"

Tadia burst out laughing, before slapping her side. Though she soon stopped. "Wait you're serious?" She put on a consoling face and walked over, putting her hand on Tolands shoulder. "Toland, this is the Rebel Alliance. We don't have spare anythings." She took a moment to look around. She ended up walking over to one of the older model MD droids sitting in the corner, turned it around and puilled the fusion battery out of it before tossing it over. "Use this, this MD droid has had it. In fact if you get Iggy working you can have it as fair payment for your time. Whether for spare parts or if you want to fix it up. Your call."

She looked at Iggy. "I don't even understand why this is happening, the only thing that isn't box standard as far as I know is his masculine programming. No extra drug compartments or anything like that. Though I wouldn't put anything past happening on this ship."

"I was just going to ask if you were up for some drink later on after this," Toland replied with a smile as he looked onto the MD droid. The old model had definitely seen hard days, either through hours of long surgery or medicating the unsavory crew of the Intruder. "If you want I can still take that old guy off your hands. Turn him into something useful like an clock or something."

Toland took the power cell and hooked it up directly to Iggy's repulsorlift, overclocking it by about one-hundred and fifty percent. Along with that, Toland redirected all of the IM-6's base power cells directly to all other systems and equipment. If his hunch was right, little Iggy would be zipping and zooming around like an X-Wing pilot on the roughest drugs in the galaxy.

"Ok Iggy, I want you to do five laps around the med-bay. I want you to stay low in case there something else is going on and you lose control. After the second lap, I want you to go as high as you can and show us what you are made of."

Tadia laughed again. "Alcohol on an Ex-Pirate ship? Well. That's just a recipe for disaster. Alcohol only on shore leave, except the stuff I have in here for cleaning wounds." She pointed to a locked cabinet. "And even then I need to keep an eye on it that it doesn't go missing." She sighed as the droid went around the room, banging into things as he did so, after a couple of attempts at circumventing a bed he rocketed up into the air hitting the ceiling before falling back down, flat on his back. "I did tell you he couldn't see, right?" She winced as he sparked slightly, he was pretty much toast.

"I think Iggy might be a longer term project than you had hoped he would be and what I would hope he would be." She eyed around the room, as if saying something that was secret and she shouldn't say. "Between you and me, I think he's the only other doctor other than me." Then she stopped. "Well, that's actually true. Well, he's not a Doctor but he has the same training. I mean there are plenty of medics around." She grabbed her jacket in a show of pride. "But I'm a doctor, got my diploma somewhere... though I can't remember where I put it. The Hutt probably sold it for alcohol or something, I don't know." Her chrono beeped. "Though the mystery of the missing Doctorate will have to wait for another time, briefing time."

a short time later

Sergeant Sekula called the room to order as Lt. Byron entered. All the Liberators were gathered -- old and new -- for their first mission brief together as a unit. Byron, feeling himself like the newest face, was quick to put everyone at ease, and rolled hastily into the mission overview. This objective had come from Fleet command prior to his arrival, so it came with holo imagery from the Intel division. He controlled these with a small remote, and flicked through points of interest as he spoke.

"Everyone settling in, I hope? Well, we'll get back to that soon enough, but first things first." A developed world flicked onto the display. "You're looking at Col Besba. Unassuming planet, not much special about it. Imperial controlled, but they get a lot of slack and we're about to take advantage." The holo display zoomed in on a spaceport. "This is Ganatoo, primary trade hub and home to a skeleton Imperial garrison. Now these aren't fighters -- it's a support unit for the Lionesse, a Victory-class destroyer that patrols the sector. We're talking mostly spanner jockeys stationed here, with a small security detail that mostly stays home to protect their supplies from the criminal elements. Today, we don't bother them and they don't bother us -- we're interested in the comm relays, out here on the outskirts of the city." The display moved again, west about a click, and displayed a confounding array of antennae and power stations.

"Intel is.... what was the word they used... 'keenly interested' in cracking the Imperial secured networks. They've had some success, but now they're looking for a way to introduce some kind of worm, which they've given to us. Our primary objective is to introduce this worm to this relay. From there it bounces off the Lionesse and into sith-knows-what, and if we're lucky, someday the data finds its way back to the spooks. If that's ever going to happen, we can't have the imps smelling rebel activity, or they'll just purge the worm before it can do its thing, which brings us to our second objective.

"Your good friend Slooga has offered to support the mission. He has interests in Ganatoo, and a personal visit shouldn't trigger any red flags on the spaceport's traffic logs. A personal visit also means personal security, which will serve as our cover for the relay op. We'll ingress on Slooga's craft in two teams, one for nominal security on Slooga, and one for the slicing objective. Slooga's team will stay with him and -- this goes without saying -- keep him safe for as long as it takes to close his deal. Presently there's nothing to suggest any threats on that front, but this isn't the core worlds, so keep your heads on a swivel. When the deal is done, security detail will give the all clear and the slicers will rejoin at the craft for exfil.

"Two things can blow this op wide open. One, the Lionesse goes off-schedule and returns to Col Besba before the slicers are open. Their software detects a hack, it's game over. Fleet is watching them closely and if she jumps our way, we'll have thirty minutes to get clear or lie low. Number two, if the imperial garrison gets any hint of Alliance, they might -- if they're smart -- think to check the codes. If they do that, the worm is dead and we failed. This is an undercover operation -- uniforms off, leave any standard gear at home, and act as Cartel as you can manage for as long as you're on site. The preference is we do this whole thing undetected, but if enemy contact is inevitable, plan B is to make this look like crime. We have discretion to either pull the worm out, or leave it in place and disguise the op as something else. Swipe a few credits from the Imperial slush fund, and they might just miss the real damage.

"A sensor sweep can happen at any time, so keep the comm channels clear. We're going to use real basic codes for status updates -- security detail, you're the pet nerf. Slicers, you're the weather. Check on the other team by asking about the weather or the nerf. If one of you has a problem, the nerf is sick, the weather is bad, whatever sounds natural, just keep it short. If everything goes according to plan, we're in and out and back on deck in four hours or less.

"Sergeant Sekula will be leading the slicer team. Dob, Beskad, you'll go along too, in case we need to run plan B. I want the droids with Slooga's detail, along with anybody else who can pass for a pirate. If you've got preferences, talk to the sergeant. We'll need our teams ready by 2300.

"Questions, concerns, anything that needs clearing up?"

"Yes, sir," Besk spoke up, "I realize this is more Slooga's end than ours," but they'd been guerrillas, so he had something to add, "do we have a profile on local security forces? They can be rough here in the Rim, as they know more tricks, but usually they can be paid off." Good guerrillas often had criminal mindsets, it was said, always looking at an angle...

He let that sink in, "also, do we have ground transport in case we need to get out and go to ground as a contingency? If compromised, the Intruder can boost off and make a pickup later once the heat is off, but we should have alternate extract sites prepared in case the heat is bad and we can't reach the first extract point. This is a guerrilla operation sir, we need code phrases for being overrun and captured, so we can tell you to essentially disregard all broadcasts."

Thanner; the reason Besk wanted to make sure that if he were caught, others got away. He didn't have to look at he other Uslamers; they knew the terror of having a friend captured and used against them, the strain of letting the bait die in ISB hands, horribly. They knew what it was like to have to kill friends that were comprised, what a bitter decision it could be to kill a friend to save your own skin to keep fighting. These were the ambiguities. The hard calculus of guerrilla war. Besk wanted to make sure that if all went wrong, his friends wouldn't get killed to rescue him if the odds were against.

After all, they were dead men with bad odds the day they decided to fight the Empire and nothing changed there. That grim outlook was why alliance command rated the Liberators' morale, as a regiment, as "Excellent-- highly motivated to fight."

"I'm sorry sir, but I feel that putting Betuu in the security team would be a major risk to this operation, sir," Toland added, trying to respect rank. "When I, well, 'refurbished' Betuu I took the liberty to paint the Rebellion's insignia on his hull. Just look at him. He's probably the most patriotic thing in the room."

The room fell silent, some looked while some could give less of a damn. "Well sir," Toland continued, "if he is seen in public with Slooga on the ground, lots of people will be asking questions and our cover could be possibly blown. If I may sir, maybe we could just stow him aboard the shuttle as a back-up. I can set him up so that he can be formed more compactly and hide him for an emergency."

"Or," he pointed out, "Put him on security at the weapons locker. Frees up a trooper from having to stand watch on it." He didn't add "Keeps the Hutt and the pirates honest" and hey, he was banging one of the pirates, but that didn't mean he was comfortable leaving the locker unsecured.

"We might need the firepower," Keller replied. "From what you told me he shoots like a pro."

Lt. Byron agreed. "You can put the insignia back after the mission if you like. For now, we need all the droids in the escort party. Sand off the insignia, or repaint it."

Vannin mumbled something about fashion design, and Byron made a face. "I was just saying," he explained, "You should talk to the crew about color and go with whatever they say. It's supposed to look like one of theirs anyway, might as well take their word on the pinstripes." Oddly enough that idea seemed to make sense, and Byron nodded in affirmation. "I take it you want us to leave the rifles behind? Alliance issue might not fly."

Byron shrugged. "It's up to the individual, and to the fire team leaders. I'll be with Slooga's escort -- slice team, check with the sergeant, but for my people, if you can handle yourself with less, that's fine with me. Between the droids and Slooga's men, we ought to have enough."

There were those words Keller hated so much. 'Ought to.' Well, if anyone else wanted to march into battle with a spoon and a fuzzy feeling, that was up to them, but no one was going to convince Vannin to leave his rifle behind.

Tadia chimed in. "I'm going down to the planet. We need medical supplies and Slooga is terrible for picking out actual medical supplies that can do some good and spends most of the money on drugs instead." She shrugged waiting for the obvious You're not going on this mission thing. "Truth be told you will also need a medic for if things go awry, or should I say when things go awry. You can send a MD droid or another one of the medics but I have the most skill, I can save lives faster in tougher spots and even care for a Hutt if need be."

She took out her datapad and began working on her shopping list. "Anything else?"

"Yes sir," Toland responded to Lt. Byron, "I'll have it sanded off in less then ten minutes sir. I'll grab the HK-51 unit as well if I can find it."

Toland saluted the two officers and he left to grab Betuu, who was still standing amongst the crowd. By the way some of his comrades looked at him, he could tell that the battle droid was not a fan favorite. The private patted the big droid on the arm, signaling for him to follow and made his way towards the repair bay. He had sworn he'd seen a sander somewhere down there.

"So," Toland asked as soon as they were alone in the halls of the Intruder, "what were you up too when I wasn't around? You seem kinda pushy today."

"Following orders," the droid bluntly replied.

"No, I got that man. Good job and all, but you just seem kind off today."

"I am running on one-hundred percent power efficenty."

"You know not to take shit litteral with me! Seriously what is up."

The droid stop dead in it's tracks and looked at Toland directly.

"I don't like this ship."

Toland gave a little chuckle, doing his best to take the droid's thoughts seriously.

"What do you not like about the ship?"

"Those who call themselves officers on this vessel act like malfunctioning Tactical Droids. The "veterans" you praise are nothing more then sloppy "bantha-fodder" who somehow have lived past the slaughter. Those new on the ship are fresh "bantha-fodder. I have fought in real war. All of this is glorified banditry."

Toland stared down the droid, unafraid of the hulking war-machine.

"Are you going to a whiny buzz-droid the entire time we are here or just today."

Betuu marched past Toland and entered the repair bay without him, replying, "Roger roger." Toland could practically heard the sarcasm.

---------------

After some time finding a sander and fixing said sander, Betuu was paint free and as shiny as the day he was manufactured. Dispite having to erase his handiwork, Toland was proud how well Betuu looked after a little bit of clean up work. After placing the sander back down at his station, Toland noticed the HK-51 unit from before mindlessly wandering around and scanning anyone he could get at least a meter away from.

"You still following orders," he asked the droid.

"Response: Yes Master," the droid replied.

"Not for long bro. Get out of here and find somebody already."

The HK did as it was told and headed straight for the exit without hesitation.

Toland turned to Betuu and moved him along towards the exit so that he could meet up with Slogga and his people. Hopefully someone will grab HK on the way, Toland thought. Absolutely won't be me. He's somebody else's problem now.