Aliso System, Aliso City
Landsdown Docks, Bay 20
The small ID10 seeker droid rested on a tool cart, its matte black body trying to pass as someone’s forgotten holotape. The alarm klaxon howled through Landsdown, distant blaster fire and shouted orders weaving into the siren’s metallic wail. The entire dock complex vibrated like a struck tuning fork, every bulkhead humming with panic and hurried evacuation. Somewhere far below, a cargo lifter screamed as its repulsors overloaded, the sound swallowed by the cavernous dockyard like thunder trapped in a metal canyon.
The droid activated without ceremony. Its tiny repulsor hummed as it lifted from the cart and drifted upward, gliding toward a recessed shadow in the wall. A single red photoreceptor burned to life, scanning the bay. A Belbullab-22 sat mid-repair, its pilot long gone. Power cables trailed from its open fuselage like exposed nerves, swaying gently from the power currents. A dropped hydrospanner rolled across the floor, tapping softly against durasteel as if counting seconds.
The droid slipped into the maze of ceiling corridors that spiderwebbed through Landsdown, pausing only when beings sprinted beneath it. Every movement was measured. Every pause was calculated. Boots hammered against the floor in chaotic rhythms, some heavy with armor, others light with fear. Voices echoed and overlapped, clipped orders dissolving into frantic questions. The ceiling ducts smelled faintly of ozone and coolant leaks, a familiar perfume of industry and impending disaster.
Its directive was simple: document every ship currently docked in Landsdown.
Bay 21 stood empty. Bay 22 did not. The droid hovered silently and zoomed in on a Star Courier resting in the docking cradle. It captured the vessel from every angle and transmitted the data in a tight encrypted burst to the Eternal Order database. The transmission lasted less than a breath, disguised within the background chatter of emergency comms. No alarms detected. No sensors complained. The message slipped into the galaxy like a rumor whispered into a crowded room.
Task complete. Move on.
Bay 23 opened into chaos.
A Firespray gunship sat on the durasteel floor, surrounded by scattered tools and half-disassembled components. Overhead lights flickered in uneven pulses, painting the ship in alternating bands of harsh white and shadow. Steam hissed from a ruptured conduit, drifting across the bay like stage fog for a performance nobody wanted to attend.
Two DUM-series pit droids darted in frantic circles, grabbing parts with frantic enthusiasm that suggested urgency and zero planning. Beneath them, a pair of MSE-6 mouse droids squealed as they scurried between boots and crates, broadcasting alarm signals to anyone willing to listen. From a side corridor, a K-Series security droid lumbered into view, a repeating blaster already braced in one hand while the other seized a second weapon from a rack. The heavy droid’s footsteps landed like falling anvils, each impact sending faint tremors through the plating beneath the Firespray.
The seeker droid drifted forward and settled lightly onto the Firespray’s hull. A micro-slicer extended toward an access panel. The hull radiated stored heat, a fading memory of recent flight. Beneath the plating, fuel pumps ticked as they cooled, each sound a mechanical heartbeat slowing after a sprint. The droid’s optic narrowed, prioritizing data pathways and entry points with surgical indifference.
A sudden electronic gargle shattered the moment.
The droid’s photoreceptor snapped upward just in time to focus on a charging buzz droid, its spinning saw screaming toward the tiny spy.
Then the seekers' signal vanished.