#Digital Holo Fighter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

highsviolets · 5 years ago

Text

of hyperdrives & hands: engineer!reader x obi-wan

summary: you’re fixing the hyperdrive on the Negotiator when a mysterious being pays you a visit.

word count: I honestly have no idea bc i wrote this whole thing on my notes app in the car lmao. (sorry if the formatting is weird/there are typos!!)

rating: G. but also, this is basically a love letter to Ewan McGregor’s gorgeous hands.

A/N: fulfilling a request for the lovely @aty-cgca7! ily, chasity! I hope it’s everything you were looking for 💖 also I know nothing about engineering or computers or hyperdrives so don’t come for me y’all 😂

of hyperdrives & hands, a fic by corellians-only

Brow furrowed in concentration, you squint in the hazy light. Reaching up to your forehead with your left hand, you slide your fingers across the surface of your skin, batting away renegade wisps of hair that had fallen away from your bun.

Maker, but it was warm down here, in the maw of this behemoth ship. You curse softly to yourself as a bead of sweat hovered perilously close to your eyelash, threatening to obscure your vision as you strain to locate the loose wire that had sent you onto the Negotiator in the first place. Hadn’t your father always warned your that space was cold? When you told him you had joined the Civilian Engineer Corps to help with the war effort, he had even cracked a joke about adding extra layers to your uniform.

You frown. Clearly, accomplished pilot though he was, you father had never been in the hyperdrive control center of a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer.

Catching your distraction, you shake your head. No. You needed to focus. Now was not the time to question your father’s supposed space travel wisdom. There’s a job to be done. Hyperdrives did not fix themselves.

There she is. Rather than simply becoming disconnected, the wire had split in two, snapping under the pressure from the processing core directly above the unit. This was going to be more complicated than you thought.

For a few hours, the only sounds that filled the room were soft snip of wirecutters and the gentle thrum of the engines. As you start re-routing the stray wire, your mind begins to wander.

You had heard stories about Star Destroyers with entire hangers of processing cores for the shields alone. That their nav computers were the most accurate in the galaxy. That their holo encryption system was unbreakable (it wasn’t. You had written and sliced a viral code into their data key a few standard months back, just to see if you could). This was your first time on such a warship when it was in space, and while it was impressive, at the end of the day, it ran like any other ship.

Tali had been even aboard General Secura’s flagship, the Liberty, for a supply dump once and she swore that their weapons systems were the most flawless thing she had ever seen - barring General Kenobi, of course, she had added with an impish grin tossed your way.

Your not-so-subtle crush on the dashing General was an open secret among your platoon of female engineers. Most of them assumed it was because he was pretty and famous — he was on nearly every holomag cover, after all — but you knew better. You knew he was a good man. His hands told you so.

The first time you had seen General Kenobi, you had been playing in the undercity of Coruscant when a boy a little older than yourself had stopped to ask what you were building with the rubble left behind from an explosion caused by the nascent Black Sun cartel a few days earlier.

“I don’t know,” you had responded belligerently, upset at your endeavors having been interrupted - and by a boy, no less. “Why do you have a braid in your hair?” you continued. “I thought only girls had braids.”

The boy had adjusted his stance to stand up taller. “I’m going to be a Jedi,” he proclaimed. “I’m Obi-Wan,” he offered with a smile. His eyes flashed suddenly, and with a quick thrust, his hand extended into the dusty air. A sheet of durasteel that had been hovering precariously at the tip of the heap was now suspended in midair, mere centimeters from crashing down on your head. Even in the grim half-light of the slums, you could see sapphire eyes earnestly fixed on the hunk of metal. Strong, lithe fingers gestured gracefully. The object fell with a great crash a few meters away.

You could only stare in awe.

The faint sound a male voice calling had caused him to twist his head and listen. “I have to go.” He frowned. “Master Qui-Gon is calling me. I hope I see you again some day.”

He bowed slightly, then turned and trotted back toward his Master.

You had never been quite able to forget the teenager with pretty hands who had saved your life.

Nearly two decades later, you had seen him again. You and Tali had been sipping cups of caf before your shifts in the makeshift mess hall of a personnel loading area when you sensed his presence. Not in a Jedi way - you didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, you knew - but in the way you noticed that everyone seemed to speak a little softer and trail their eyes after the passing figure in white armor.

He had strode past the the two of you, hardly sparing a glance at two female civilian engineers and pointedly ignoring the sheer weight of the gazes trained on him. Later, over a pint of lomin ale, Tali has raved about his hair, and how “he had a shoulder to hip ratio that was sharper than a vibroblade, didn’t you notice?”

You had taken a sip of your drink and laughed good-naturedly at Tali’s antics. You had noticed him, to be sure, but you had been transfixed by his hands, not his muscles.

Back in the days before the war, when you were still a little girl, your father Aves had always told you to take note of a being’s hands. In the present moment, you smile as you refit the access panel on the hyper drive’s core reactor as a the memory comes to mind.

Even though he was a good father, Aves had been a man of mystery. Whatever it was he did for a living, it had blessed him with an intimate knowledge of guns, starships, and computers, and he had passed everything he knew on to his “blazing sun,” he used to call you affectionately.

“Blazing sun,” he would instruct you, “you can tell a lot about a being by their hands.” When he was satisfied he had captured your attention, the impression of a smile glowed across his face. He resumed cleaning his carbine rifle as he spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You can tell a lot about a being by their hands,” he intoned again. “Their trade. Their social class. How they hold a weapon. What kind of weapons they use. If they can pilot a ship. If their mind is focused or skittish.” The tall man had shrugged gently, an action that seemed counterintuitive to the grade A contraband blaster now resting comfortably in his expert grip. A new power pack slapped into place with a precise snap. “If you ever want to know someone” — he tucked a stray hair behind your ear tenderly, the other hand still clutching the blaster — “look at their hands.”

You begin tapping out routine codes on the core reactor to test the replacement wire. The various combinations of letters and numbers in basic and binary were muscle memory, and you stared in awe as your own fingers punch in the digits seemingly of their own volition.

Yes, it was General Kenobi’s hands that most enraptured you, you decided. Slender, calloused (you supposed - not that you had ever had the pleasure of testing that theory for yourself), extensions of strong, well muscled arms that indicated a strong degree over his motions. He had held them so softly at his sides that day in the mess hall. They had gestured animatedly as he walked alongside a clone commander, a graceful arc to his movements that made you think he would be a good dancer — or a formidable fighter.

The klaxon of an alarm drives you from your reverie. “Oh, kriff.” The latest code you had entered seemed to have caused the wires to short circuit, tripping an internal safety alarm.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff.” You continue to swear violently as you all but run over to the central computer console and entering a code to kick-start a program to halt the shrieking din. Within the minutes, the alarm bells stop, and you sag against the console in relief.

“Is something the matter?” a rich tenor voice asks from behind you.

Immediately you tense. In a singular, practiced motion, you pivot on your left heel and whip your blaster into your right hand simultaneously, turning to face the voice in a fighting stance.

“Freeze!” you call into the shadows. Your eyes scan the cavernous room methodically before settling on a spot a few meters in from the doorway where the light seems distorted. You take aim with your blaster.

“Justice, freedom, faith,” the disembodied voice replies calmly from the same spot.

Your eyes narrow. Whoever the being was, they had given the correct password. But the upper-class Coruscanti accent didn’t belong to anyone in your platoon, and who else would be prowling around the underbelly of General Kenobi’s flagship? There had been faint rumors of a lightsaber wielding Separatist operative. Maybe they were coming to sabotage the ship? Well, not on your watch.

“Step into the light,” you order, durasteel edging into your voice. “Keep your hands above your head.” The contours of the blaster are cool, comforting in your grip, soothing the blood rushing just beneath the surface.

A tall auburn-haired man steps into the light, arms raised. “Will this suffice?” he asked wryly, amusement playing across his features as you feel shock and embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.

Stars above. I almost shot General Kenobi. A thousand thoughts race through your mind faster than light speed - some witty, some pragmatic.

But of course, what slips out is neither of those.

“Fierfek, you startled me,” you manage to spit out instead. It’s only your steel will that prevents you from collapsing from embarrassment on the spot. Feigning nonchalance you decidedly do not feel about almost murdering a war hero and childhood crush, you holster your weapon and turn back to the console.

“I gathered as much,” he returns, amusement still coloring his tone.

The room fell silent for a few moments as you run system diagnostics.

“What is it you’re working on?” This time, he’s so near you can feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. Well honed reflexes are faster than your brain, though, and it isn’t until you feel a gentle pressure on your elbow that you realize it’s raised to jab him in the throat.

General Kenobi’s chuckle seems to fill the room. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” he murmurs. A shiver runs up your spine despite yourself and you feel your stomach start to coil.

You stare at the data steaming on the console until your eyesight begins to blur. “That depends. Are you trying to kill me, sir?” Maker, but you were mouthy today. What was wrong with you?

Kenobi releases your arm dropping his to his side. Immediately, you feel bereft somehow with the loss of his touch.

Peering over your shoulder, he asks, “hyperdrive problems?”

Kriff, does that man not realize what he is doing to you, muttering in your ear like that? Of course he doesn’t, you dolt, you tell yourself; he’s a Jedi. Not his fault you’ve had a crush on him since you were nearly eight years old.

“A replacement wire short-circuited the system and triggered an emergency code,” you respond as evenly as you can manage. A fresh sweat breaks out across your forehead as another complex code dances across the screen.

“What code is that?” He reaches out as though he could absorb the masses of data contained in the system through osmosis. Maybe he can. You’re not a Jedi.

The movement serves a different purpose for you. Something wet and bright glistens as his hand moves into the blue light of the console.

“You’re bleeding.”

He glances down and grimaces. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Blood is starting to gather around an incision slashed across his right hand.

He opens his mouth to retort no doubt, but you beat him to it. “Don’t give me that bantha dung about Jedi business.” A grease stained finger jabs in the direction of his chest.

Kenobi’s face remains impassive. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes, and, tugging at his elbow, drag him over to the glow lamp near your workstation.

He continues to scrutinize you, and you look down at yourself, wondering what he’s staring at. Your coverall sleeves are rolled up, there’s sweat gathering at your collarbone, and you feel the grimy mixture of dust and stale perspiration coating your face. You’re a hot mess if there ever was one.

Resolutely, you ignore the flush on your cheeks and the steel of his gaze and rummage for a bandage in the care pack attached to your hip. Several excruciating seconds later you find one and tear it open.

It’s when you’re grasping his hand in one of yours the he finally speaks. “I’ve seen you before.”

His cool composure inspires a sudden flash of irritation. “You seem rather certain sir,” you say as you apply a bacta salve.

“Because I am,” he responds mildly. His hand grips yours tightly when you apply the bandage, and you almost asphyxiate on the spot. You were right — his hands are calloused.

“Well, consider this your repayment from saving a girl from durasteel in the Coruscant under-levels about twenty years ago,” you answer with a quick smile. It’s hard to be angry when Obi-Wan Kenobi is in effect, holding your hand.

Reluctantly you release him from your grasp, letting your hand drift down to your side.

The General inclines his head in thanks, then glances back at the computer. “Is the hyperdrive fixed, then?”

You nod, stuffing supplies back into your pack. “I modified the code and replaced the wire so it should be okay.” You meet his eyes. “I’ll be with the ship until it returns to Coruscant, so if there any problems I’ll be available to assist, sir.”

You turn to leave, but he reaches out and catches your hand. “And who do I have to thank for such diligent caretaking of both my ship and my hand?” he inquires. His touch is like satin against your dirty hands and you grin in spite of it.

You consider for a moment. “A blazing sun,” you tell him.

You smile as you make your back to your quarters. Yes, you could tell a lot about a person by their hands.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x you #userkarina #obi wan x reader #prompt request #cristina writes #cg's og's #character: obi wan kenobi #star wars fic #obi-wan fic #aty cacg7 #never am i ever writing in present tense the TYPOS omg

123 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 5 years ago

Text

; --- SHATTERED HILT / 01

summary: ru’kali survives order 66. cal kestis does, too. while cal spends his days on bracca, stripping starships for parts, ru spends her days earning her protection from the empire in the fighting pits on ordo eris; both do what it takes to survive. but, when a wayward quest and a plethora of owed debts lead cal kestis straight back to his fellow padawan -- a once shy girl turned raging fire -- the pit fighter is left with a choice: leave, or spend the rest of her life a pawn in a game much bigger than her. pairing: cal kestis / original female character, ru’kali lof word count: 2k a/n: i cannot remember the last time i wrote something that wasn’t a reader-insert, and i’m not sure how this will do -- feedback is genuinely appreciated on this, since i know i’m mostly a reader writer! everyone loved ru from her intro to my clone trooper squad, which you can read here!

Ru’kali Lof startles awake to the sound of three loud, rough bangs on the door to her quarters.

She wonders bitterly, as she blinks up at the ceiling, if she can just ignore the sound. With any luck, they’ll leave her alone and Ru can go back to bed --

Then, the knocks come again. Louder and faster.

“Rise ‘n’ shine, sweetheart!”

Ru snarls.

Beneath the durasteel door, she can see the long shadow of someone shifting back and forth in their boots -- immediately, the Mirialan, as she stands and throws herself to the door, knows it’s Atticus. The sheer bombastic chaos that follows the bounty hunter swims through the force to greet her before she even opens the door.

When she does, he’s got an arm on the doorframe and he’s leering.

Atticus Rex isn’t much to look at, nor is he kind nor smart, but he’s muscle -- his head is shaved in a tight buzz, littered with scars, and his muzzled grin is picked clean with a toothpick that hangs from his lips.

He smells like day-old ale and sweat.

“Where y’ been, Ru?”

It leaks out of him like a jab. She has to restrain the snarl that threatens to leap across her face. Her attitude is sharp and wants to go straight for the Haxion Brood Lieutenant’s throat.

“Asleep,” she bites, crossing her arms and cocking a hip as she goes to hit the switch and shut the door, “Do you mind?”

Atticus snorts, hand planted on the frame and forcing the door to stay open.

Ru leans back, peering into her room, to eye the chronometer hanging on the wall. The digits read 1038 -- it’s late, and she’d finally fallen asleep after she’d managed to quiet down the usual roaring river in her mind. Not an easy task.

"Get dressed,” the Bounty Hunter chirps, “S’ fight night, sunshine.”

Fight nights were common.

But, fight nights were Ru fought? Those were rare -- and though she’s sure Sorc Tormo would put her in the ring every night if he could, she’s also aware that to the Umbaran crime-lord she’s an asset. A big asset. A big, money-making asset that draws a big crowd and big bets.

Huge bets.

(The exact kind of bets that got Greez Dritus into this mess in the first place, and by proxy his new-found friend.)

Ordo Eris, on fight nights, becomes more like a city than the cold, lonely, terrible astroid colony it really is. The space station fills with scoundrels and thugs from all across the galaxy who traverse the rocky space around the arena’s hub to get a spot around the ring -- Ru eyes the growing crowd, nearly every attendee with credits in hand, as the lift carries her upwards to the top level of the arena’s loge.

Beside her Atticus flicks the smoldering bud of his deathstick down the shaft.

Speaking of Sorc Tormo, the sleaze ball greets Ru’kali with wide open arms and a devious grin.

“Ah! My prized warrior princess!”

Ru cross her arms and swaggers forward -- the small rope of lucky beads tied to her sash tinkers as she does, knocking against the chromium smelted hilt of one of her two sabers. One is hers from when she was a Padawan. The other is a recent build and it’s temperamental. Using a stolen, mined kyber crystal is to blame, no doubt.

Master Yoda was right -- the crystals are supposed to pick the Jedi.

Atticus meanders along behind you. Skulking as per usual.

Ru looks out past the arena to the screens bolted up along the pit. Pale blue eyes narrow tightly, the deep scar over her right eye warping slightly as she does. The broadcast is in the lower levels. Some idiot running around on the walls. Plugging wires in.

A show, for sure.

Ru raise a brow.

“What’s all this about?” she asks, turning to eye Sorc Tormo.

The Umbaran man is eccentric, to say the least. His facial hair runs right down his chin in one fine line, green in color. That same green, punchy and vomit-reminiscent, echoes in his Canto Bight-esque outfit. Large, pompous sleeves and pants that are three sizes too tight. All green.

He looks like seventy kliks of bad road, honestly.

Hell, everyone on Ordo Eris does.

Ru’kali is no exception -- she’s rougher than she was when she first arrived here. Littered in scars and bitter. The years of pit fighting have settled in her stance and though she’s athletic, she’s a rogue brawler with enough crackling, dangerous rage to power an entire Star Destroyer.

Fighting takes the edge off. Makes her feel less afraid.

“Well,” the lone, pale fingers of the Umbaran curl around Ru’kali’s pale pink shoulders, nails drumming against the diamond shaped markings there, “I am glad you asked, my dear. We have a special contender for you --”

“Cut to the chase, Tormo.”

The egg shaped head of the Umbaran rolls as he steps away, waving off Ru’s evident irritation; the crime-lord gestures to the screen. “He’s friends with someone who owes me a lotta money. He was carrying this around --”

His fingers snap twice.

“Atticus --”

Ru’kali was not expecting Atticus Rex to procure, from the back of his belt, a lightsaber.

And she certainly wasn’t expecting him to hand it to Tormo and for the Umbaran to ignite it, presenting a glimmering yellow blade.

The Mirialan’s face falls -- anger bubbles up there, warping the navy tattooed features of her face as she steps forward and yanks the hilt from the hands of the crime-lord.

Her lips twitches.

“What?” she sneers vengefully, “Did he pull this from a corpse, then?”

She has seen another Jedi’s saber three times now in this station. Once on the belt of a traveler who’d laughed in her face and waved the blue thing around, proudly proclaiming they’d bought it off clone trooper for drinking money. The second time, on a bounty hunter -- he’d murdered a Jedi Knight for Imperial credits, kept the blade though. The third, was now.

Ru could only assume the weapon to be another stolen relic, a ground-in-the-dirt memory of her life before Ordo Eris. This contender probably had no idea how to use it, let alone the life this saber had before now.

A laxidasical wave. “Maybe. Don’t care. But! My sweet, sweet, Jedi -- I want you to kill him. Seeing two saber swordsmen dueling... Goodness, me oh my, that will certainly bring in the money, won’t it, Atticus?”

“Sure will.”

And it does.

Cal Kestis is having a pretty shit day.

Not that he’d ever say so -- no, because, sure, it might be terrible and he might be navigating some wild underground dungeon maze, but Cal has BD-1 back on his shoulder and that’s all that matters.

He’s got a mission, he’s got BD-1, and despite being a little sore, he’s good. All good. Everything’s good. Totally good.

As he rides the lift to the upper levels of this... place... Cal wonders if he’s gonna eat that sentiment.

The first thing he hears is the chants -- raucous roars of a large crowd. Before him lays a large square space, illuminated by stark spotlights and swarmed with drone droids, each with blinking red lights on their helms to show their recording status.

It becomes abundantly clear to Cal that he’s suddenly in the spotlight. And, that the itching feeling that he was being watched was correct.

The redheaded Jedi steps out from under the bay, suddenly exposed to the bright light of the arena.

Around him on the upper decks are hundreds of people, all clamoring to get a view of him -- the large screens on the sides of the loge show him squinting, raising a hand and grimacing into the light.

BD-1 gives a worried boowoop.

“I got a bad feeling about this too, lil’ buddy.”

Suddenly, a holo-projection fizzles in before Cal -- large and tall and to the excitement of the crowd. The man’s appearance is met with a rise in cheers, rolling off the voices of the spectators with thirst for action.

Sorc Tormo laughs.

“Ah, finally he arrives!”

The projection waves wildly, spinning about, and Cal watches carefully as this eccentric ego-maniac waves his hand with a grandiose flourishes as he speaks.

“We had action on how long it would take for you to get here!”

Yeah, well, BD-1 was kinda his priority.

Irritation bites at Cal’s features. The Jedi scowls. His stance is tense.

“And who are you?” Cal calls out, voice rising over the roar of the crowd.

“Ha ha ha! Who am I? I’m Sorc Tormo, baby! I’m the boss of this operation!”

The crowd goes wild at that, whoops and hollers serenading the arena to the tune of the crimelord’s name. A television drone swoops close to Cal’s head and the Jedi side-steps it with a disgusted look on his face.

“Right,” Cal snarks, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Maybe not you, but to your friend Greezy Four-arms it does! You’ve got him to thank for gettin’ you into this pickle!”

Of course.

Cere had made a comment off-hand about the pilot’s penchant for gambling -- not that Cal was any stranger to the concept. Back on Bracca, Prauf had muscled Cal into tagging along to a few card games here and there. And though the redhead never partook in wagering his entire week’s pay on precious metals, Prauf had once or twice. On those nights that Prauf lost -- because he always lost -- there was nothing that could lift the Abednedo’s mood.

Not even a signature Cal Kestis smile 'n’ pat on the back.

Cal could use one of those right about now.

“Yeah, well, once I’m finished with you, I will thank Greez,” it comes out just as cocky as it feels -- and maybe Cal shouldn’t had tried the attitude.

Either way, when this Sorc Tormo guy laughs and waves his hand, proclaiming, “No, no, my friend, you won’t be fighting me...”

Suddenly, the air becomes electric.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the crime-lord turns on a heel, gesturing to the crowd with the all the practiced cool of an entertainer, “Our lovely little guest will be going head to head with our favorite...”

There’s a crescendo of excitement. Cal notices an uptick on the counter on the broadcast screens -- he realize, quickly, that they’re bets and currently, someone named Fropolo’f is betting the most money against him. Real confidence booster that is.

“Someone get baby his toy! He’s gonna need it!”

His lightsaber is launched from the loge, and the Jedi catches it quickly, igniting it on instinct as his skin crawls in anticipation. The redhead looks around, eyes cast on the crowds of smugglers and thugs lining the balcony.

The wide angle shot of fear on his face is painted across the rumbling arena’s screens.

Before Cal can bite in a retort, the echo of boots on durasteel begins -- coordinated and rhythmic. Boom... boom... boom... boom, boom, boom.

“You know her well -- a pure whirlwind of rage! She’s pink, she’s tatted, she’s daaaaaaaangerous!”

Boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom.

BD makes a nervous boo-weeeeeeeep as the pace picks up. Cal swallows, gloved fist tightening nervously around the hilt of his glowing, golden blade. Green eyes dart around the square expanse of the arena, trying to get a gauge on where this opponent might appear from --

“Give it up for our girl...”

Boomboomboom, boomboomboom.

“RUUUUUUUU’KALLLLI!”

The roar is deafening.

Suddenly, the paneling in the floor separates, and from it emerges --

“...Ru?”

Ru’kali Lof is suddenly staring face-to-face with a ghost.

Her stance, wide-set with double blades humming in a hot white, seems to crack when she finally sees the face of her opponent.

She’s a handful of meters away but she’d know that flash of red hair anywhere.

Cal Kestis.

Cal fucking Kestis.

Oh, this is bad.

This is really bad.

#cal kestis x oc #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x original character #cal x oc #cal kestis fanfic #this feels so weird to be writing in a diff POV tbh #let me know what you think #genuinely bc this is a dif take from what i usually do!#shattered hilt

262 notes · View notes

robotic-hearts-n-minds · 6 years ago

Text

The Moon Descends; The Fighters

No. No, no, no, this was all wrong! None of this was okay, it was- Saige paused, pulling up her shield to keep a civilian from an incoming attack. She barely made it. - It was like Roboenza all over again. But so. much. worse.

More robots, more powerful robots, more robots with the ability and no hindrance to killing.And no care who they might harm in the process.

“Glacia! H-urgh! How many more are there?!” She was panicking, she needed to take a moment- she didn’t have a moment.

“I-I--” Her navigator stuttered, “We’re trying to keep track-! They’re being infected at a rapid rate, Saige. We c- We can barely keep track of all the Hunters right now- I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine. You-- HEY!” The sound of a swinging blade followed by several energy blasts, “You’re doing the best you can. J-Just don’t let up. Any of you! We Hunters need you now more than ever, the city will need you more than ever!”

“We won’t let you down. There are Lifesavers and human medics on their way as we speak,” Glacia’s tone was more confident now, Saige’s words reminding her why she was there.

“Good. HEAVY CLAW!” Saige’s armor was augmented, her systems given a boost. With the new claws, speed, and strength, she began tearing into more robots, namely any that got too close to a human. Humans were grouped together, told to take shelter.

‘Please... let us contain this long enough...’

{The rest are under a cut because there’s a lot of muses in this reaction post}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tazia had heard the broadcast by accident, trying to tune to a music station. Lumine... She’d heard of him before. And then, right after the first broadcast...

It sounded like Hell on Earth. It sounded like-

“.... Roboenza..? Is that what this virus is like? Or am I crazy...” Soft feet padded through the compound she’d made, a holo-projection from her arm scanning through an inventory list, “... They need to stay here. They’re at greater risk. And not meant to fight...”

“Zzzzt-- Who’s not meant to fight?” She whirled around, panicking when she saw the smaller robot, “Are you going somewhere?”

“... Yes. And I need you to stay here. Right here. In the base,” Tazia had almost reached the doors. Just a few more steps...

“Bzz-But why?” Their screen blinked and gave a worried look, “Is something wrong..?”

“... yes. And I want you,” she’d made it to the door, pulled it open and jumped outside, “To stay here and safe.” She pulled a lever and an alarm went off through the compound. A barrier activated, a hard light wall coming down over the door.

Nano jerked back, before pressing against it, “Bu-bzzzt- Tazia! What if you-zzzz-! What if you get hurt?!”

“Then I’ll be back here when I can for repairs. I’m not helpless. You aren’t built for combat. At all. I learned it ages ago. And I can be of use,” The cyborg walked to a random panel in the compound walls, and pressed at just the right spot.

It opened, a set of armor and weapons revealed to be hidden there, “Stay here. Guard the compound with our systems. I’ll be back. And yes,” she paused, pulling on one of the gauntlets, “I’m sure I will be.”

“... be zzzzzt-- Be careful...” Nano whined, their antenna ears pulled back and a digital tear rolling down their screen.

Armor on, weapons checked and loaded, she nodded, coming back to the door to press a hand to the barrier, “I’ll be back. So don’t cry, and stay safe.” She turned, activated the boosters in her now active armor, and took off. Between her legs and the armor, she’d be in the city and in the fight in no time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thalia had still been in bed when she’d heard the initial broadcast went out, and it made her systems run cold. Lumine.. was back? Working with another Maverick and some... unknown ally? It couldn’t be, right? But Jayden... Jayden hadn’t missed anything yet. And if she had a source...

Her blanket went flying off, hooves hitting the floor and moving quickly to her weapons desk. Blasters, whips, saber... She’d learned how to project shields with her energies, but grabbed a spare just in case. A tank to hold some flowers, which were being plucked from her antlers and hair as she checked her armor and systems.

That... was an odd reading? Something was up with her energy output... New output option? She’d have to look at it later. After they had a chance to rest. With weapons, armor, and systems checked, she left her living quarters, running down the halls to join the other hunters. And was promptly stopped by something 10 feet tall standing in front of her.

“Thalia. You’re supposed to be resting af-”

Her right hand shot up, saluting the commander even as she interrupted him, “Sir! Hunter Thalia Lalinde, Blossom Doe, reporting for duty.” She tried to sound louder, more in charge than she was by any stretch.

“After your last incident. We’ve been over this, your systems ar-”

“Hunter Blossom Doe, reporting for duty, Commander.” His title was almost hissed as she put more energy into the words, they were practically spat at Signas.

“... Be careful. At the first sign of trouble I want you to fall back into a support position, am I understood?”

The saluting arm hadn’t lowered, she nodded, “Sir! Understood.”

“Give them hell, then. And keep the humans safe.”

“Will do, sir.” Another nod, and she was off again, receiving instructions from her Navigator as she launched herself into the heat of a battle for the whole of Abel City. They. Would not. Lose.

#I will continue to defend {Saige}#Don't think of me as a robot {Tazia}#Always here to help! {Nano}#Watch the petals dance {Thalia}#dash reports

5 notes · View notes

fictionfromgames · 4 years ago

Text

Egress (SWSE)

"Check again," Essow frowned, "Onomiri Pathfinder, we have a Commonwealth marque."

"Ma'am, that's not the problem," the docking personnel responded, "I'm saying due to the unrest, you have to go back to the surface."

"Understood," she snapped the holo off. "Mhi, tell the others to strap in, and get to your post."

"Essow, really?" the Mon Calamari's face fell.

"Yeah, really!" the human buckled in, "They're Force-hunters, I don't care if the Commonwealth is still standing at the end of the day, these GUF bastards are coming to get us and I'll fly through hell before I let them walk up and take me!"

Mhi jogged through the corridors down to the common area. The Jedi was speaking to the Mirialan girl, who just stared in shock. Considering their story, Mhi didn't blame her. Force-users never lacked for unimaginable excitement, and if they really had beaten down the GUF at a zoo, well, that'd be one for the HoloNet.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're gonna be um, flying fast," she explained, "You can stay here or in your bunks, but in either case, please buckle in."

"Essow's classic diplomacy," the Kaminoan smirked.

"Yeah, her's and mine, unfortunately," Mhi grumbled, "If you see droids rolling around, don't worry, they're just doing their jobs."

"Wait, are we breaking out of port?" the purple girl paled.

"Oh sweetie, keep your plausible deniability intact!" Mhi said as she jogged away.

She climbed down into the quad lasers, an add on that become iconic when a certain YT 1300 somehow survived everything that was thrown at it. That model had become a notorious high demand item, though no one managed the same kind of fame since.

Essow Brak made her fortunes on a 2400 that she'd hired Mhi Sombelwabb to refurbish. On a good day, .5 past lightspeed, just like that damn 1300. Quad lasers, just like That One, except bigger and less legal. The tear-down and rebuild was entirely based on concepts from the Falcon's-- turn a freighter into a fighter, and make sure she can run like hell when she needs to. The twelve and a half tons of hidden cargo space even helped them break even recently.

Mhi stayed on. A refit needed constant maintainence, and she managed to extend Essow's debt by being her gunner too. But it wasn't the money that kept her here. It was making sure her life's work made its mark on the galaxy.

The Onomiri lurched up, and Mhi dropped the quad lasers down, firing wildly until Essow had gotten out of the hangar. The scale and speed made trying to hit the point-defense systems inside pointless, but once they saw atmosphere, things got easier.

Her ship was fast, but it was still freighter shaped and heavy.

"Essow, what are the chances we have a chace as opposed to a blockade?" she yelled up.

"Not good, eyes ahead, Mhi!"

They may have had a Jedi onboard, but the most miraculous uses of the Force Mhi had ever seen was watching Essow Brak pilot, and watching her work with this finely tuned relic was magic all its own. Making it agile enough to meet her capabilities was the true challenge of her job, but it was worth it. She just also needed a gunner.

It was still a minute or so until they'd hit a wall of ships, but Mhi watched anxiously.

"Please don't trash my ship, Essow!"

All she heard in response was a laugh.

They were going on an attack run of a corvette. Always the suicide angle. Mhi knew where to fire to cause concern for their shields, getting through the larger vessel's deflectors just enough to add carbon scoring and potentially confusing their crew.

Their shields were solid, only taking real hits from the larger vessels, while the starfighters danced around them helplessly. It's when the droid repair team took action that she opened the comm to the cockpit.

"Essow, it's time!" Mhi panicked.

"Oh come on, we've got another couple runs left!" Essow laughed, snap-rolling the Onomiri Pathfinder out of harm's way.

"You'd better be right!"

They did another attack run, but a solid barrage rocked the ship, causing eveything to blink out for a moment.

"BRAK!" Mhi shouted as they continued their forward momentum.

"On it!"

Essow peeled off, and before the hyperspace engines could respond, they were at the edge of the system. Mhi breathed a sigh of relief and climbed out of the gunner’s seat. “What did you do?” the mirialan girl looked liked she might have been ill.

“Just the job,” Mhi offered.

“We moved through hyperspace without engines,” the kaminoan looked intrigued, “I knew your pilot used the Force, but this is new to me.”

“To them, it looks like we just shot off without astrogate calculations,” Mhi explained, not trying to stop them from following, “Which is helpful because now, our actual hyperspace route will be a very complicated question.”

“I wasn’t talking about the Force,” the girl sounded upset, “I mean, why did you just fire on Commonwealth ships if the Commonwealth isn’t actually going under?”

“Oh, it is, kid,” Essow stood to meet them rushing the cockpit, “Give it a few months. If your local law enforcement isn’t quelling an insurrection, it means they tacitly improve, We’re looking at another Empire and it won’t help if we’re just sitting here.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl said, “Things might just go back to normal.”

“Ayoma, I’m gonna say two things to you,” the middle-aged human help up two digits, “Thing the first; it’s always satisfying to show off. And secondly, possibly the most obnoxious thing anyone’s ever said to me, ‘search your feelings’.”

She placed her hand on Ayoma’s shoulder to punctuate her second point. Ayoma’s face did that thing that near-human faces do when they get overly stressed, making Mhi reach for the astrogation pad. Of course Essow hadn’t started yet. “Where were we headed?” she asked the others.

“Ord Pardron,” Ilah replied.

“Uhhhhhhhh, do you know the way?”

“Take the Corellian Run down to Savareen, we’ll be taking the Triellus Trade Route up a ways, and hopefully someone out there can be a little more specific,” the Jedi explained, “There’s an old Rebel ‘safe world’ out there, which, if it’s not openly anti United Front, will hopefully be neutral enough to convalesce at.”

“Well as long as someone knows where we can go after this, I’m fine,” Essow turned back to the pilot’s seat, “Maybe we’ll get some smuggling work in the Outer Rim.”

“Just keep us flying, Brak,” Mhi feigned annoyance.

“Right back at ya, Sombelwabb.”

**********

The Onomiri Pathfinder

A labor of love turned into a tolerably illegal venture, the Onomiri is a Refitted and extensively modified YT-2400. Essow Brak and Mhi Sombelwabb have made their mark as the eponymous shipping solution team, Brak & Sombelwabb. In the Inner Rim, their goals are speed over bulk, and occasionally take passengers who need that point-five destination time. When they feel the need to pad their nest egg, or acquire materials necessary to keep their delicate hyperdrive in tune, they trek out further for more discreet shipping ventures.

They hold a privateer-like charter (in effect, bounty hunting credentials) that has been used utilized on more than one occasion to hunt rival smugglers, which also turns a hefty profit when business is slow.

YT 2400 mod Refitted template (just costs more and is harder to repair)

STR 42 DEX 22 INT 20 SPEED 5 HP 144 DR 15 ARMOR +15

EXTANT SYSTEMS Hyperdrive x.75 (increased to x.5 by Starship Designer) and X8 (backup) Sublight Drive 5 Combat Thruster Jamming Array Shields, SR 55 Navicomputer, Advanced Regenerating Shields Quad Advanced Heavy Laser Cannon 5d10x2 Slave Circuits Basic Sensor Array Computer (+6) Maneuvering Jets (+4) Hidden Cargo Hold 25% Droid Repair Team Added Power Couplings (+3) Reinforced Bulkheads 20% Luxury Upgrade Basic -1

Cargo: 38.5 tons apparent, 12.5 hidden.

#Star Wars Saga Edition

1 note · View note

meliecho · 5 years ago

Text

I found an old character created a very long time ago for a Star Wars role play. This was Lucas Wolenczak - a sentient hologram who could shift between cyberspace and solid space. He was originally a federation ship’s ETH (Emergency Technical Hologram) who was thrown into the Star Wars universe. He retains his own soul and consciousness inside his holo emitter and any computer due to his sensitivity in the Force. He even had a dark side - Daniel - his former middle name after adopting the name “Alin’ from a family who found him after an accident and named him ‘Lost’ in their language due to his memory loss. Here’s what I created for the history of the ETH. ((the ETH, btw, doesn’t exist in the Star Wars or Star Trek universes. I made it up.))

Emergency Technical Holographic Program

(As recorded by Starfleet.)

The Emergency Technical Holographic program (ETH) was a sophisticated Hologram developed in early 2378 by Starfleet after the success of the Emergency Medical Holographic program (EMH) developed by Dr. Lewis Zimmerman in the early 2370s. Both were used on some Federation starships in the late 24th century. The ETH was designed to provide short-term advanced assistance during emergencies in engineering with the capacity to replace a starship's Chief Engineer or science officer. It was programmed with the same basic mission objective as Dr. Farallon's boxy Exocomps --developed in 2369. The ETH could enter areas deemed too hazardous for crew members. The formal name of the program was ETH Program DE-1 Diagnostic Logistic and Engineering Subroutine Alpha-242.

The first starship to be equipped with an ETH was the USS Bellerophon, although the Explorer also had an ETH program, followed shortly after by the USS Wellspring. All three were Intrepid class starships.(There is an apparent contradiction as to which starship was the first to have an ETH. Although it is specifically stated that Explorer was the first to be equipped with an ETH, it was later revealed that the USS Bellerophon, which had been launched one month prior to Explorer, also had an ETH program. It may be that Explorer received their ETH during construction while the one aboard Bellerophon was installed just prior to that ship's launch.)

Deep Space 9 does not have an ETH due to it being incompatible with Cardassian technology.

History - As of 2384

There have been four versions of the ETH, called Mark I, II, III, and IV. Starfleet commissioned the brilliant holo-programmer, Dr. Astrid DeLeon at the Starbase 1 Holoprogramming Center above Earth to create the embodiment of modern engineering. The ETH Mark I was first activated in 2378 and was programmed with 5 million possible troubleshoots from the collective information of 2000 technical references and the experience of 42 individual engineering officers. The ETH was also supplemented with contingency programs and adaptive programs to learn while serving as a supplement of a normal engineering staff member in cases of emergencies. It contains 50 million gigaquads of computer memory, which is "considerably more than most highly developed humanoid brains."

Dr. DeLeon, proud of her achievement, decided to program the ETH with both the physical and psychological likeness of one of the 21st century’s greatest minds, Dr. Lucas Wolenczak. He originally worked on board the submersible vessel SeaQuest DSV for the UEO (United Earths Oceans organization) beginning in 2018.

She uploaded the historical databanks of his life up to his 17th year. It was in this time frame that she felt he showed his broadest adaptive capabilities and limitless imagination without the controlling thumb of any command structure. He was known for early inventions like the “Stinger” (a single-man fighter), very early bio-gel pack technology to cool the computer core of the SeaQuest, the holosphere's fledgling schematics, refining the SeaQuest's outer bio-skin, and developing the Vocorder that eventually became the base technology for the Universal Translator.

She was also envious of his free spirit and rebellious nature to be pinned to one regime.

The resulting hologram was arrogant with a smart-ass streak, and as a result was poorly received by many Starfleet engineers. This resulted in nicknames like "Emergency Technical Hothead" and "Expendable Talking Hammer." Some of Starfleet’s technical crowd even went so far as to object to the use of the ETH entirely.

Eventually it was concluded that the ETH Mark I was defective, and they were bounced out of the engineering corps. While an ashamed Dr. DeLeon tried to have them decommissioned, Starfleet reassigned them to scrub plasma conduits on transfer barges with Dr. Zimmerman's defunct EMH Mark 1’s. The ETH Mark I's were also deployed in other menial tasks, like dilithium mining –also alongside the EMH Mark 1’s. Thus began a discord between the two Holographic programs.

Of at least 225 Mark I's created, 221 were reassigned, reprogrammed, or lost due to disasters befalling their parent ships. Four escaped by virtue of their ships being lost through the Route of Ages; one aboard the Agamemnon, one aboard the Bellerophon, one aboard the Wellspring, and one aboard the Explorer.

Most notably, a Mark I serving on the USS Explorer, ran intermittently for six months and was forced to expand his programming extensively to keep up.

To address the flaws in the ETH Mark I, Dr. DeLeon began work on the Mark II with help from Dr. Zimmerman's research. The prototype was finished in time to be included in the engineering bay of the USS Artemis in 2380. While the Mark I's outward appearance was a copy of the young 21st century inventor, a disillusioned Dr. DeLeon changed the outward appearance of the Mark II. Furthermore, the patterns of behavior of the following versions were designed to be more pleasant and courteous and their outward appearance was changed. To achieve this, DeLeon initially tried to improve on the programming of the Mark I, but eventually decided to create the Mark II from scratch. In addition to that, new ship designs like the USS Artemis enabled full mobility for the ETH, as the whole ship was outfitted with holographic projectors. The Mark II was soon replaced by a Mark III, followed by a Mark IV.

By 2384, the reprogrammed Mark 1′s were able to obtain bootlegged copies of the holonovel “Photons Be Free” and view them. One of the ETH miners found the holonovel "spectacular."

(Lucas, the sentient ETH Mark 1 ‘byte surfing’ through the computer. The fastest way to travel.)

Fate of the final 4 ETH Mark 1′s in the Star Wars universe.

However, a notable caveat was that in 2382, the Bellerophon’s ETH was deleted when a virus tore through the ship’s computer, leaving it derelict.

The Agamemnon was destroyed in a battle over Tatooine, thus destroying that ship's ETH, and the Wellspring’s ETH was never utilized. Its program was used to repair the Explorer's ETH damaged matrix, leaving the Explorer’s program as the only remaining Mark I still operating as an ETH.

Explorer’s ETH developed a distinct personality when the Explorer was caught into the Route of Ages for the first time on January 3rd, 2381. It took the ship through a split second in Earth’s history on November 12th, 2018. At that exact moment, Lucas Wolenczak - the real one - had activated an experimental holographic sphere on board the United Earth's Oceans Organization (UEO) submersible vessel, SeaQuest DSV.

The Route snagged his consciousness and attached it to the Explorer's inactive ETH program.

For the next six months, Lucas expanded his programming as the crew called on him for support and for repairs after various battles. Through all of this, Lucas was able to hack his way through the ship’s systems, exploring every facet of the computer when his program was inactive. He was not aware that his “dreams” of dwelling within a computer were actually reality, and that his room on the SeaQuest was a recreation within a partitioned area of the computer that his mind created.

Lucas became aware of his rare situation when he was ripped from the ship’s computer by a temporal spike in the Route and was sent to the desert planet, Tatooine. After a few days, he realized his predicament and built a crude mobile emitter. The Explorer later crashed on Tatooine, leaving Lucas an ETH without a ship. A unique aspect to Lucas Wolenczak was the ability to transfer himself from physical matter to digital data by entering –or thinking—the code “826242” which was Captain Bridger’s (captain of the SeaQuest) favorite number. It was later revealed by a local Jedi that the Force played a powerful role in his existence. He soon found he could manipulate that energy.

A downfall to this ability was an apparent need to return to “Datamode” within the mobile emitter for 8 hours continuously every 7 days to recharge or memory degradation would occur.

In a report filed by Explorer's Captain, Zon Huntreas, Starfleet has since recognized Lucas Wolenczak as a sentient lifeform under the adjudicated law redefining "life" altered because of Lt. Commander Data.

Mechanics

The ETH was a holographic simulation of a Human, but with no internal organs beneath the apparent surface to conserve computer power.

Holodecks used omnidirectional holographic diodes. An engineering deck was fitted with a system of OHDs that projected an image of the ETH. Each projected a complete image. Visible portions changed as the hologram moved, creating an illusion of fluid motion.

Magnetic containment fields allowed the ETH to interact with physical objects. These force fields moved as the ETH moved to create the appearance of solid matter. The containment fields could be shut off, allowing objects and people to pass through them – an ETH's cohesion could range from solid to intangible.

When OHDs and magnetic field generators were added to other parts of a ship, they allowed the hologram to leave engineering (as in more advanced Starfleet ships or modified configurations). Without these additional projectors, the ETH could only function in engineering and the holodeck.

USS Explorer also discovered the ETH program’s transfer to emitter allowed the ETH to act as a technical aid during away missions. However, damage to the emitter posed a risk of damage or even deletion of the ETH.

The universal translator algorithm was written into the ETH's matrix.

When he was first activated, the Explorer’s ETH apparently did not have the ability to deactivate himself after he finished his duties. However, he later gave himself that ability by issuing computer command "Override Command 1-ETH-Alpha; End Program.”

#crossover rp

0 notes

lokis-mischievous-writer · 5 years ago

Text

‘PRO8L3M – OUTPOST’ BY MELT

A week before the new PRO8L3M’s album premiere, we opened OUTPOST – a mysterious installation x listening party.

We wanted to build another dimension upon music and lyrics. A sensory, immersive trip to the world of PRO8L3M for fans, designed to be organically shared with the rest of the world. Making an influencer out of every guest.

It was a raw, adult, underground, dystopian twist on a theme park concept. Filling the 1890m2 of post-industrial uncharted space with unexpected encounters that triggered the sense of discovery and a bit of uneasiness. A journey built from the series of experiences inspired by the band’s lore.

PRO8L3M is a unique rap group with an eclectic fanbase, on the brink of ‘going mainstream’. Their storytelling makes listening to their songs akin to watching movies. Their upcoming album ‘WIDMO’ had an overarching theme – the fall of western civilization.

We were responsible for the concept and design of the whole event, all of the installations and 95% of digital content creation.

vimeo

FIRST CONTACT

Arriving, you could see red beams in the evening mist, cutting through the 3rd-floor windows of the derelict factory. Moments later, guests would enter the unknown. Guided only by the path of lasers’ surfaces through the hazy darkness.

THE ENTRANCE

Soon, they came upon an immersive light tunnel. The sensory entrance, preparing for the whole experience. Encompassing with thousands of animated lights and spatial sound design.

HOLO GO-GO

Next, a glimpse of the cyberpunk future – a holographic go-go dancer – rendered real-time, projection-mapped on the real-world scenography/set.

BURNING MAN

A space in which a digital self-ignition occurs under strictly defined conditions – an interactive mirror, where you could see your burning reflection.

VR LOUNGE

A space where you could peel off the first layer of our virtual worlds. Both original works are currently available to the public only on selected festivals.

‘ORGANIC SPACESHIP: ONE’ – explore the vast spaces of alien architecture reaching beyond the horizon. Feel the majestic scale as cosmic constructs pass close by, unparalleled by anything in the real world.

‘TURBULENCE I VR’ – It’s a VR episode of TURBULENCE – our ongoing series of immersive audio-visual experiences created for large-scale, high-resolution media environments, that embosom viewers in the digital flow of simulated particles.

UNDERGROUND PARTY

Guests entered the party hall with additional interactive experiences located all around, a bar and the counter marking time to the album pre-premiere.

A matrix of thick, red lasers animated to the music above their heads, created a geometric light set design.

2050 VR x WWF

Guests could experience the VR simulation of the year 2050 where their own actions exposed the climate change consequences interactively and symbolically. We developed this project with WWF to raise awareness of the dark future ahead of us if we don’t act now.

It was an interactive VR experience with full hands tracking, showing that we might have to rely only on the simulated world full of Bitcoin scams and omnipresent ads in the dystopic future.

HOLO ARCADE FIGHTER

A holographic arcade fighting game with real-life size fighters. Inspired by Mad Max’s Thunderdome and retro arcade games, the set design was a cage filled with additional elements.

VR SEX SIMULATOR PROTOTYPE

A weird social experiment – a rough prototype of VR intercourse simulator. It was a surprise for everyone who tried it – we didn’t show anyone what the user saw. Most left the experience laughing, but there were many different reactions across the spectrum of guests.

INFINITY CUBE

In the center of the listening party, stood the Infinity Cube. A multimedia monolith, the animated scenography for all guests and an immersive installation that invited everyone to step inside and experience the infinite structure of recursively reflected animations.

Looking at it, we are surrounded by the 3-dimensional grid of red, thick lasers – the background and the environment for the experience. We can see people inside, but they cannot see us. We don’t know where the screen ends and the reflection begins. From every angle, from every spot in the room, the installation looks different.

When we go inside, we’re entering the immersive space of infinity. Purposely designed animations create infinite structures from reflections all around us.

Inspired by the classic Infinity Rooms popularized by Yayoi Kusama, we created our multimedia fueled take that became something more than infinity room.

It became a part of the show.

CREDITS

Imagined by MELT

Creative Director / Art Director / Experience Director / RnD x Technical Director / Designer / Motion Designer / Producer

Kamila Staszczyszyn x Kuba Matyka / MELT

Commissioned by PRO8L3M

Produced by OUTRAGE PR & Communication: OUTRAGE Producer: Tamara Cibor / OUTRAGE Photographer: Zuza Sosnowska DoP: Jakub Węgliński

https://www.bymelt.com

#illumni

0 notes