Welcome to Gaia! ::

“Yes Daddy.” She chirped and dashed off, taking the stairs two at a time and burst into her room. Grabbing her carryall, she stuffed it with clothing, toothbrush, and a holo-picture of her mother. Tossing the pack onto her back she out of her room in record time. Sliding down the banister railing she hop-skipped over to her father, blaster pistol still cradled in her arms.

“Ready.” She said cheerily, smiling brightly up at Jag. ”whoops.” She bent own at retrieved her hover board and turned to face the door her mother had retreated through. “Bye Mom! Love you! Ok, now I’m ready.” She corrected herself.

The Confederacy was mildly annoyed that some pirates had managed to make off with a stash of droids. True, it had been at a minor, back water post, and the amount stolen hardly accounted for even a regiment. All of them were Clone Wars -vintage

But still, stolen droids was a loss. Compact that with the fact that someone had the balls to steal from a bank on Muunilist, and they were in an uproar.

This was of course mitigated somewhat by the fact that the gears were finally starting to turn. After years of development and production, the new batches of battle droids were ready.

Several of these were at a Techno Union demonstration on their secure factory at Hypori...

~

"As you can see, they are superior to the B1 in every way." the proud Verpine chattered, as it led a delegation of CIS officials and military leaders through a shooting range.

He stopped in front of one of the dozens of droids, a B1-X. "Aesthetically, they appear nearly identical, despite their darker coloring. They have more joints and servomotors, making them physically stronger, near Wookiee or Trandoshan strength."

The droid he had been showing off stood up to it's full height, erect, as the Verpine continued. "They are a bit larger than the B1, and they also have a denser, tougher armor, allowing them to take far more punishment. They are of course still vulnerable to the cranium.

"Now, allow me to demonstrate them in action."

Letting his arm down, the droid snapped it's rifle up, firing a burst of lasers. On the other end of the field, some plasteel clone trooper dummies dropped dead. "They are exceedingly trained, programmed with the latest in combat techniques for droids. They can function quite adequately even without commander units.

"During the War, our statistics put our old B1s failing against their clone opponents by as much as 50 to 1 in several cases, even with commanders. Here, we have greatly minimalized that problem; the B1-X has a survival ratio of 10 to one, and with commanders, 25to one. While I won't lie, they do lack in creativity, as all mass produced automata must on some level, but they are far and away superior to most any soldier- droid or sentient. Though I will admit, they still pose less of a threat against trained mercenaries and soldiers.

"And the best part?" the thin green bug finished off, holding up a single finger. "They're inexpensive. We expect our current armies to be fully replaced with them in a few short months, with increased production rates, once the last shipments have been delivered. In all, I think you will be pleased.

"Now, on our right we have..."

"I don't particularly care what the Confederacy thinks of Kuat after my deals with the Republic are concluded. If they cancel their order, well we already received their credits and may as well finish producing those ships. As it stands the Kuat Sector Fleet has sufficient firepower to fend off any assault by the Confederacy, a military advantage that will only increase as we bring new ship types online." Giddean smiled darkly. "I will make the arrangements for that demonstration... perhaps a formal diplomatic note declaring the challenge to Dac would ensure a sufficiently large number of Republic observers."

Teroch tapped a button on his forearm and the droids lowered their weapons and shut down. Obedient little tinnies. He waved his squad forward and stood over the bodies of the passed out troopers. He clicked his teeth and grabbed their Sergeant by the hand, lifting him over his shoulder in a Fireman's carry. He motioned for his boys to get the rest of 'em the same way.

Once in the Depo, Teroch strung up the Troopers from their arms, kinda like a prisoner hanging in a cell. Then, they quickly moved out of sight and reactivated the couple of B1s. A little perk he had installed would make this fun. Basically, a little speaker that would relay his voice to the tinnie and synthesize it in the traditional B1 voice.

Wake up, Republic Scum.

Shouldering her pack Niomie followed her father out of the house that she had called home. Turning around as she passed through the open gate, she gave one last look before joining Jag at the hoverbus stop.

“So, we heading back to your ship Daddy?” She inquired curiously.

"One of them, the Pirun, a Vigo Class transport." He said as the hoverbus arrived and they boarded. "The Captain, Fidavar Duval, pays me a percentage of whatever he and his crew net on their cruises. That percentage pays for not just the use of a ship I own, but also for use of the facilities aboard my container ship. I will expect you to be on your best behavior in front of Duval and treat his crew with respect. Otherwise you'll be on the first shuttle home faster quicker than lightspeed."

"Wrong." Jag said, referring to the ship statistics. "The 25 ton limit only occurs if you go with the gunship spec upgrade. The usual Vigo has no guns, carries 100 tons and has limited shielding. The Gunship has six turrets, two fore cannons, and better all around shielding at the cost of 75 tons of cargo."
"And it isn't me you should be concerned with embarrassing, girl. You're at an age where you have to earn your own respect. Duval and his crew pull their weight, don't try and cut me on my percentage, and take decent care of my ship. They've earned my trust. To get respect you should show respect."

“Oh.” Niomie looked down at the ground, a little embarrassed. She had wanted to show her father how much she knew about space transports and freighters. That she was not just some spoiled rich brat. She glanced up at Jag, brows stitched in contemplation as she sat and thought about what Jag had said.

“I…I have to earn my own respect? Does that mean that I have to earn your respect to?” She asked.