We Don't Serve Your Kind Here!

5K-1720 – Daily Data Sync

Swifty brought a strange group of biobots to see Little Morgy Morg today. (I call her Swifty because she seems to have an underpowered central processing unit. She’s a bit slow, you see). There was an old human fleshbot in a wheelchair that talked a lot, but didn’t actually say much. I shall call him Legs. There was a fatbot, one of those Hutt’s, with an orange-red tinge to him. Ginger the Hutt seems logical. Following him closely was a scalebot with some swords. Strangely, Scales and Punkie were not trying to end each other. Punkie is a young Hairbot, and does not suit my built in definitions of Wookies.

They were all looking for transport off planet, which seems less than ideal to me, as the Imperial blockade was making it difficult at the time. However, Little Morgy Morg still owed Xoren a favour. Morgy exchanged passage on our ship for fulfilling this debt. That settled, I carried Morgy to the captain’s chair (he always seem to struggle relocating himself after hydrating) and we were on our way, after another impeccable take off.

It turns out that Xoren, the fleshbot, was endorphin exchanging with the daughter of a local mob boss. This was only the beginning of his plight, as during an endorphin exchange, Xoren accidentally murdered the little wingbot girl. After discovering that the girls father, the wingbot Nil, was less than ecstatic at this occurrence, he was willing to settle Morgy’s debt in exchange for placating the wingbot.

Our group of misfits went to speak to this wingbot. Being quite a reasonable individual, he merely wanted us to bring him to Xoren. After an exceptionally inefficient use of basic, Legs haggled an exchange of recompense for our services, and we received half immediately.

Presumably to display his importance, the wingbot brought a retinue of four fleshbots and his domesticated beast. Upon arrival at Xoren’s location of regular recalibration, we ascending the long spiral stairs to allow Xoren and the wingbot to have their discussion. It was an odd discussion, however. Instead of using basic, as would normally happen, everybody was sssssksksksskkskss.

Another memory log that is corrupted. I don’t seem to have the necessary program to properly describe the next few minutes in basic. A direct untranslated log will have to do:

Fuck yeah, let’s get this goin’ y’all. Dis gonna be fun, yeah. This dumb little winged fella left half his bodyguards downstairs, Scales is behind him with his poker sticks. Me, Legs and Swifty are upstairs, the other two bodyguards are busy carrying Ginger the Hutt up the stairs. Dis fella gon get fucked up. Dese other fellas are shooting him, Ima punch this sucka in the head and oh goddamn, Scales just shot that mutha out dat window. Think we’ll call him splat from now on. His mutts don’t look that happy. Ha. Man, this is so good. Goddamn, Scales is at it again. He just launched himself swords first at those to suckas, still on the stairs. Too far for me to reach, but ol’ Legs is on wheels. Down the stairs you go buddy. WHAT. THE. FUCK. LEGS. I SENT YOU DOWN THERE TO FUCK THEIR SHIT UP. NOT TO FUCK SCALES’ SHIT UP. WHY YOU GOTTA GO SHOOT ERRYBODY WITH THAT DUMB BANG STICK OF YOURS. NOW YOU GON GET IT.

Post memory corruption, it appears the discussion, while not as planned, has still resolved Xoren’s problem, thus settling Morgy’s debt, in turn settling these misfits’ debt. As additional recompense, Xoren tinkered with the Centennial Eagles comms favourably. Morgy seems to find pleasure from the happenings of these misfits, and has decided to continue on transport services.



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