Ravensdagger_Overkill

Chapter Five

Chapter Five It was tempting.She stood before a small clinic. She wouldn’t have known that it was any sort of medical facility if it wasn’t for the sterilized interior and the fact that she caught a bandaged up man walking out of the clinic. Her robot friend had filled her in as soon as she asked and pointed the place out.She had a feeling that she could be helped there. It was a temptation that was growing every minute she waited. Her missing arm throbbed, fingers that were long gone itching to grab and squeeze.A few of the people, human and otherwise, that she had crossed had prosthetics. Not many, but enough that she had noticed. And those that she had seen were advanced, way beyond anything she could have gotten in Brockton Bay, barring the help of a Tinker.Her want wrestled with her practicality, but she decided to step into the clinic. At the very least she would get an idea of the price of that sort of device. Having a new arm would be handy.She decided not to speak that pun aloud. The last thing she needed was for her robot friend to put his mechanical brain to work looking for puns, of all things. “I’ll need your help figuring out how to get a prosthetic,” she said.“Acceptance: Of course, my lady.”Poking at the biggest button next to the door, Taylor watched it slid open with a woosh and release a bit of air that was merely boiling as opposed to the scalding mid-afternoon air outside. She slipped in with alacrity, her friend on her heels.The inside was clean. Or at least cleaner than anything she had seen so far. A long counter split the room in half, the top part of a robot standing behind it and babbling to her in a gravelly tone. The few benches around were all empty, and the flies she sent around the back didn’t find anyone, at least not anyone alive. “Is this place automated?” she asked.She wouldn’t have expected something like medicine to be handled entirely by robots, but it made a sort of sense. Her robot friend took a few steps towards the counter while she looked around at posters with writing she couldn’t begin to understand. He beeped and booped away at the reception robot, sounding like an old modem trying to establish a connection.Taylor took that in stride. It was probably faster than any language a human could speak.“Comment: This place is indeed automated. It is the property of Nimas the Hutt. She runs one of the local slave cartels. This clinic was built to serve her minions, not the local population.”Taylor felt her brow furrowing. “It doesn’t help the slaves? Do slaves have any rights, any kind of... protections?” She felt dirty just considering it, but maybe there was a system in place to protect even those that were enslaved, like laws to protect pets on Earth Bet. She shuddered.“Sarcastic Statement: Of course, my lady. Protecting their disposable slaves and keeping them healthy is one of the primary concerns of the Hutt crime lords. You would love their retirement plan.”She rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah. No need to be an ass.” She pointed to the ever-patient reception robot. “Could they do anything about my arm?”Her robot turned to the reception bot and screeched at it some more. He turned back and she had the impression he was rather smug. “Statement: Yes.”“How much? When could they do it. What kind of arm would I be getting. Exercise a little creativity, please.”“Statement: Gladly, my lady,” he said before turning back to the reception robot and talking at it some more. The robot behind the counter backed away a little. They chatted for a little while, Taylor bouncing on the balls of her feet the whole time. “Statement: They can operate on you immediately. For free. The quality of arms they have in stock is rather lacking, unfortunately.”“That sounds far too good to be true,” she deadpanned.“Statement: I may have used some creative encouragement. There is nothing to fear. The medical droids are unable to purposefully cause any harm.”“And when their owner comes around and finds out they operated on me without permission? How long would the operation take, anyway?”“Answer: Less than one standard hour. Suggestion: The Jawas should be leaving before nightfall. You could have your new arm and be out of the area before the equivalent of authorities are alerted.”“Are you trying to get me killed?” she asked.“Sarcastic Statement: I would never.”Taylor snorted, then gestured towards the door leading off towards the operating theater. It was little more than a strange chair with quite a few complicated machines around it, but it tickled her sense of what the kind of machine that could give someone a complex prosthetic should look like. “Well, lead the way,” she said.At the very least she would be able to see what she was dealing with. She was also rather confident that she could deal with a couple of hooligans on her own.She had a good feeling about this.

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HK-47 was feeling, in so far as his motivators allowed him to feel, a little bit like a man denied his pleasure. Oh, certainly his new master was quite interesting. The little Sith lady was as clueless as she was violent. All the same he wanted a change of situation. The restraining bolt tagged to his chest prevented him from murdering all of those sand-brained Jawa meatbags and generally got in between him and his amusement.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.So he hatched a plan. He would see his new master put in a situation where she would, in all likelihood, die horribly. If she died in this little backwater than he would be put in the possession of the local hutt overlord. Not much of an improvement, but a better place to be than in a Sandcrawler for months on end. From there he could find a way to get rid of the damnable bolt.If the little Sith lady lived, then he would get to witness some proper carnage and destruction the likes of which he had not seen in centuries.It was his favourite kind of plan, the sort where he won either way.His master walked ahead of him, head hardly moving and yet he knew that she was able to see everything around her. Some sort of sixth sense that he attributed to her strange Force powers. It, of course, did not apply to droids.Superior creations such as himself could not be swayed so easily by the mysterious powers of the Force.“This all looks rather complicated,” the lady said as she walked into the operating theater and looked around.HK-47 scanned his environs too, finding plenty of things that could be used to incapacitate, kill or encourage people to talk. Medicine was the strategic application of pain, poisons, and dismemberment to improve the living conditions of a patient. It was so terribly easy to turn a patient into a victim.A few medical droids were lined up against the walls, all of them looking the worse for wear and in dire need of a bath in oil and some proper maintenance. He wondered how his new master would fare under their ministrations. “Observation: the medical droids are ready to operate, my lady.”“Right,” she said as she eyed the droids. “I can’t see anyone around the building.” She bit her lower lip, his dictionary of body language suggested that she was wrestling with temptation. “This is such a bad idea,” she muttered before she began to remove her shirt.The appearance of the wound where her arm had been suggested that the limb had been lost and cauterised, possibly by a powerful beam weapon or a lightsaber. He filed that under her history file and turned to the droids. A few orders creatively mixed in with threats had the machines moving towards his master.She sat down at the gestured prompting of one droid and watched, fascinated, as they began taunting and scanning her stump of an arm.“Observation: The droids will now administer a sedative.”She shook her head and reached out, grabbing the retractable arm holding a needle out towards her. “No. Better not.”He relayed the order to the droids and when they protested, quoting some programming about avoiding pain while operating on filthy organics. He overrode them. If his new master wanted to scream and flail around then he would sit back and enjoy it.The operation began a moment later. A spray of disinfectant over the stump, vibro scalpels moving into position, probes preparing to dig into flesh to find nerve endings.HK-47 watched his master’s face as it twisted into a wince as the first knife dug in. Her breathing grew erratic and she twitched a little until all the droids stopped. He did not even need to tell her that movement would only prolong the operation. Her jaw clenched and her other hand dug into the material of the seat she was on.It was fascinating looking at her angry glare as she watched the medical droids take apart her arm. Soon enough the end of her stump was opened up, held that way with clamps and needles through her flesh. Each tiny nerve was held to the open air by minuscule tweezers.A third droid rolled into the room, a prosthetic arm held in two clamps.“That’s my arm?” she said. The disgust in her voice was obvious.The arm in question was simple. A rotating joint for the elbow, a simple set of pistons between elbow and wrist and a hand that was really just a few actuators controlling three fingers, each one a flat nub. It was utilitarian at best, covered in durasteel plates. A perfect replacement limb for a slave doing heavy labour.“Advisement: The arm can be modified to increase its combat potential.” he said.“Yeah, I bet,” she grumbled. Her eyes widened and she looked off to the side, as though seeing through the walls. “Tell them to move faster,” she said. “We have guests coming. They don’t look happy.”HK-47 nodded and relayed the order. The medical droids paused for a moment as they recalculated and then started poking and prodding at her faster. “Query: Are those coming here hostile?” he asked.“Well, they’re armed,” she said. “And I’d guess that they’re unhappy. Can’t imagine why.”“Sarcastic Assertion: It cannot possible be because we are stealing from them.”“They’re slavers, right? When it comes to morals I think I have the high ground.” She tensed a little as the droids started sending jolts of electricity down each nerve, then connected them to minuscule probes. “Hey, go call out and ask what they want.”Hk-47 moved closer to the doorway. He could hear three or four potential casualties moving closer. He shifted his translation to Huttese and raised the volume. “Statement: My master wishes to know what you want before she perforates your filthy flesh sacks and uses your corpses as trophies proving her might and superiority to the degenerate bantha you serve.”Judging by their reaction, they were more than willing to cooperate with his plan. How nice.

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Chapter Six

Chapter Six Throg and Thug were real pains in the ass to work with, and Nel Numb was a pompous jerk at the best of times, but when the call came in that some bantha-fodder was messing with Nimas’ clinic he didn’t exactly have time to pick out the best.He had been enjoying some Jawa juice in the Greasy Trough, just minding his force damned business when Nel Numb ran up to him and started spraying spittle all over his face. By the time he understood what the little Sullustan was saying his face was covered in slime.“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, I heard you,” he grumbled as he pushed off the bar. A quick gesture to the bartender told the fat human that he would be back later to pay his tab. “Tell me more about this thief.”Nel Numb was more than happy to comply. The little Sullustan only came up to Gar’s shoulder, but he made up for it with big sweeping gestures and exclamations that had his mousey ears flapping and his long jowls quivering in excitement. “It’s a human and a droid. A big droid, but only the human is armed.”“Armed with what?” Gar asked. He knew that if he didn’t cut into Nel Numb’s diatribe the little shit would go on for hours. As it was he wanted to get things over with as soon as possible. He slipped through a thick curtain and into the back section of the Greasy Trough, wincing as the noise grew exponentially louder and the air took on the fresh scent of porcine dung that always hung around Gamorreans.He ran a hand down the sides of his jacket, making sure his blasters were loose in their sheathes before ducking through a curtain of beads. Why Nimas didn’t just get her pigs to live in some other dump he would never know. He just hoped that none of the stuff on tap was linked to the bar in this part of the cantina.Music was playing in the background, a low tribal beat that was about as sophisticated as Gamorrean culture got. A dozen pig-faced boars were standing around and drinking, a few were punching each other out in one corner and off in a little booth some of the pigs were enjoying themselves with some slave.He sneered at the lot of them, scanning across the crowd for familiar faces. He found two of them about to sit down at the bar. If he was lucky that meant that they weren’t shitfaced on the swill that passed for booze here. “Thug, Throg!” he barked.The two boars jumped and turned toward him, Throg going as far as pulling his axe out of his belt-loop. They squealed at him.“Shut up,” he growled. “We need muscle. Come on,” he said before turning back towards the part of the cantina reserved for civilised beings. He found Nel Numb wringing his hands there. “You didn’t tell me what the thief was armed with,” he continued as if he hadn’t left off.“Ah, yes, she, I think it’s a female, only has one blaster. The droid is not armed,” Nel Numb said. “She walked into the clinic with a missing arm. Demanded that the droids there patch her up and install a prosthetic.”Gar paused for a moment. “Seriously? Was she out in the sun too long?” His eyes narrowed. “You sure she’s not one of Nimas’ girls? Did Bween send her?”The little sullust shook his head. “Not on our records. No slave collar or implants. Can’t be one of ours.”“Well shit,” Gar said. He checked his gear real quick while waiting for the Gamorreans to rub their two brain cells together and hurry up. “So how does Nimas want us to do this one?”“Nimas doesn’t know yet,” Nel Numb said. “No one wants to tell her. The Chamberlain wants it to be a done thing before presenting her with the human female.”Gar frowned down at the Sullustan, then leaned in to be heard over the cacophony of the cantina. “You mean we need to keep her alive?” he asked.The sullust shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. Just gotta be sure not to break anything. If she’s dead she’s dead.”Gar nodded, accepting that. In the worse case he could blame the woman dying on the Gamorreans getting excited. He made sure that he had a stun grenade pinned on his belt, then leaned against a wall to wait, foot tapping to the sound of the band in the corner who were warbling a tune.When the pigs finally showed up, he nodded towards the door and led the way. Nel Numb was on his heels instantly, and the two Gamorreans were quick to catch up.The heat outside hit him like a punch to the gut, but it wasn’t his first day, or his first decade on the sandball, and he was used to it. Seeing people scamper away as he and the boys walked down the dusty roads was always a whole lot of fun.The cantina wasn’t too far from the clinic, just a few streets and a few alleys away, and no one they met had the balls to mess with them. He glared at the little medical shop from across the street. There weren’t any signs that anything fishy was going on from outside, but he wanted to be sure. “Throg, you dumbass, go in first.”The Gamorrean snorted and unlimbered an axe from his back. He waddled ahead and stared at the panel next to the door for a long few seconds before smashing it with a fist. Either he knew which button to press or the Force’s own luck was with them, either way, the door slid open and the pig walked in. Wonder of wonders, he wasn’t blown up.Figuring he should be there when they captured the woman, Gar followed in, the others doing the same a moment later. “You got a collar?” he asked Nel Numb.“Yes,” Nel Numb said. He patted a pocket by his hip. “We’ll take the female alive?”“We’ll try,” Gar said. The front of the clinic didn't look disturbed, not that there was much worth stealing. The droid at the counter was looking their way placidly, waiting for instructions. “You,” he said pointing at it. “Describe the person that came in here.”The droid nodded its head. “Young, human, female. Approximate age between seventeen and twenty galactic standard years. Subject has suffered extensive damage to her right arm. Subject also had signs of malnutrition and dehydration.”“Maybe she’s just a street rat after all,” Gar muttered. He pulled one of his blasters out and with his free hand fumbled around for a stun grenade. The damned things were expensive, but useful when dealing with the louder slaves. “Thug, Throg, take the lead.”Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.The Gamorreans snorted and waddled closer to the back and into the corridor that bisected the building. He was glad that he had been in the clinic before, it gave him an idea of its layout without having to stick his head out.“Statement,” a mechanical voice said from the room at the end of the corridor. “My master wishes to know what you want before she perforates your filthy flesh sacks and uses your corpses as trophies proving her might and superiority to the degenerate bantha you serve.”Gar and Nel Numb shared a look. Either the droid was malfunctioning or the female wanted to go out with a fight. She probably knew what would happen to her for crossing Nimas. “Tell your master to come out arm raised and we’ll all have a nice chat,” he said.He heard the robot say something in a language he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Slapping Throg on the arm, he pointed to one side of the door, then pointed Thug to the other. The Gamorreans were moving to their positions when the whine of a blaster filled the corridor. Nothing happened at first, then a second shot came and a fist-sized hole appeared in the wall and a red blast caught Throg in the head.“The bitch is shooting through the walls!” Nel Numb screamed.“I noticed,” Gar said as he opened one of the rooms along the side of the corridor and slid into it. He used the doorframe as cover, coming out to take a potshot, but all he could see was the one corner of the operating room and no girl to speak of.Throg roared, a hand pressed up against his face where the blaster had burned at him. Raising his axe, he screamed and charged towards the room, Thug right on his heels.“You idiots!” Gar screamed after them. “So much for taking her in alive.”The two Gamorreans were almost at the door when Throg stumbled. Thug did the same a moment later. They turned around, looked towards Nel Numb, then with strength that belied their stubby forms, flung their axes across the corridor.Nel Numb squeaked and ducked down, the two axes missing him by a parsec. “What are you doing!” he screamed.Before he could get and answer, Throg and Thug started to fight, biting and clawing and beating at each other, but all of it without a noise. Throg grabbed the smaller Thug by the neck and snapped it with a jerk before he stood up.“What the,” Gar said.Throg roar at them.“Comment: My master suggests that you leave, unless you want to join the filthy sack of pig matter on the ground. Oh, please join it. It is most amusing.”Gritting his teeth, Gar weighted his stun grenade while watching Throg. The Gamorrean wasn’t moving. It was creepy. He stood stock still not three paces from the door to the operating room, even with blood pouring out of his head wound he just blinked in their direction and waited. He flinched when a fly bit into his hand, but a quick swipe killed it.Its then that he noticed that a whole lot of bugs were starting to swarm into the clinic.“Something’s messed up here,” he said. “Nel Numb, get ready to move.”“The only place I want to move is back home,” Nel Numb said, he was eyeing the growing swarm too. “This is too bizarre.”Nodding, Gar stepped out of the doorway, primed his stun grenade, and ducked when a blaster bolt flew past where his head had been. Swearing, he flung the stun grenade into the open doorway, then rolled back into cover.A loud thud sounded out, followed by the distinct noise of two hundred pounds of Gamorrean boar crashing to the floor.Poking his head out, Gar inspected the corridor. Throg was down, Thug was still dead, and the room at the end was quiet. The swarming bugs buzzed around, then broke apart and flew every which way. “Hey, droid, is your master ready to chat?” Gar called out. He didn’t know what kind of witchery was going on, but it seemed to be over.Nel Numb snorted, cheeks flapping with the motion.“Observation: it seems as if my master is somewhat indisposed at the moment,” the droid said.He gestured forward for Nel Numb to move in first and got a rather impolite gesture in return. Grunting, he held his blaster by his side and darted across the corridor and into the operating room.He spun around, aiming first at what looked like a rust protocol droid, then at a girl with a freshly installed prosthetic arm that was hanging halfway out of the operating seat. “It’s clear,” he called out to Nel Numb.The Sullustian walked in blaster-first, but lowered it a moment later. “Stand down, droid.”“Comment: I am not able to fight you, I have a restraining bolt that obligates me to serve my master.”“Did she steal you too?” Gar asked as he moved closer to the girl. Straightening her on the chair was easy. She hardly weighed anything. She was young, a little worse for wear, but probably cleaned up nice. Not that she’d be clean once Nimas was done with her. “Nel Numb, the collar,” he said.He caught the collar in mid-air with a swipe, then unfolded it. The device clicked around the girl’s neck and armed itself with a whine.“Who is she?” Nel Numb asked. “Where did you two come from?”“Statement: I cannot say as long as this bolt prevents me from enacting my primary functions,” the droid replied in the crisp tones of a subservient protocol droid.Nel Numb grunted and started to fiddle with the bolt.Gar took the girl’s blaster and inspected it. It was a piece of junk. It was a miracle she had managed to shoot anyone with it. “You think she’s one of those jedi?” he asked over his shoulder.“Maybe,” Nel Numb said between grunts. “Nimas would love it if she is. Maybe there’s more in it for u-”“Hrm,” Gar agreed. He waited for Nel Numb to continue, but the only reply was a grugle.Pausing, Gar spun around, blaster rising. The droid was holding Nel Numb by the throat, the Sulustan between Gar and the droid. Then the robot’s free arm pulled Nel Numb’s blaster from this pocket. “Observation: This was far too simple.”Gar started to pull the trigger.The droid fired first.

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