TX-33: New Orders

                                                                      New Orders


Sullust, Brema sector, grid location M- 17
Lucrehulk-class battleship Supremacy
Command Bridge


The bridge was quiet. The only noise being the sound of gyros rotating within droids at their posts and the tones of control panels. It was utterly peaceful- and TX-33 completely hated it! In his mechanical mind, he found no solitude in doing anything other than executing his primary programming: bringing the Confederacy to victory.

But since the last attack on Sullust (one which had been a heavy loss for the Republic and very early in the war) there had been no major enemy activity in the sector. Still, he was in command of forces protecting a major Separatist holding. According to his latest tactical calculations, the planet was twenty-nine in order of strategic importance. To be in control of a world of such importance over an organic was something any droid should feel pride for.

Then again, a droid wasn't supposed to feel pride.

So there he was: sitting in the command-chair, maintaining control over the planet's orbital defense. Sullust's surface was occasionally visible, even in high orbit, below swirling clouds of ash and toxic atmosphere. Rivers of molten rock, volcano fields, barren wastes; but below, in the subterranean cities, droid foundries and weapons manufacturers labored for the Confederate war-machine. In orbit, shipyards made capital ships and frigates to beat back the bloated, decaying Republic. And Tee-ex was protector of all of it!

Even he had to admit, his blue photoreceptors enjoyed the sight of the seemingly angry world that would help topple a corrupt galactic government. Enjoyment… a droid wasn't supposed to feel that either.

"Sir!" a B1 droid to the front and right of him turned to face him. "We have an incoming transmission from the Separatist Council."

"Bring the transmission to the main projector." While he gave no outward indication (as it would be lost on his simpler droid counterparts) the tactical droid was expecting a six to one chance, in his favor, of being ordered to another system with this transmission- and, hopefully, it would be a system that was under heavy Republic "protection". Being where he was gave him no room for true tactical brilliance.

The holo-projector flickered on and revealed the pale, glowing figure of the Separatist Head of State, Count Dooku, before him. TX-33 stood in recognition. He was always careful in front of organics- showing too much personality or free will could mean deactivation for him.

"Count," he said, bowing slightly, "what are your orders?" Anything to leave the purgatory that had been imposed on him.

"There has been a coup in the neighboring Sluis sector." Dooku gave no pleasantries or indication of even knowing TX-33's designation (and why would he?). Instead, he moved straight to the matter at hand, "Belo Tusus, financial minister of Orto, has taken the capital city and declared loyalty to the Confederacy. You are to take a fleet to Orto and defend his regime. Having control of the Ortolan mines would be a great asset to the nearby construction yards on Sluis Van."

"Yes, Count. It will be done." Defending a dissident's revolutionary government wasn't exactly what TX was hoping for- but if the Republic tried to retake the planet, then it would be a nice challenge. Maybe he would even have to tangle with Jedi. Getting a Jedi to surrender would surely garner some high respect.

"A fleet detachment is to arrive at your position soon to bolster your forces. Several representatives will be accompanying you. Escort them to the palace and see that the Confederacy's needs are met. Do not allow them to be killed."

Without waiting for an answer, the Count dropped transmission.

Accompanying organics like a lowly protocol droid! He was a military mastermind with hundreds of thousands of military tactics in his memory core- and this was where he was, acting as an escort! "Pathetic meatbags," he said in a low, droning voice. "They don't deserve a tactician of my expertise." He sat in silence for a moment before realizing the B1 was still standing in front of him. "What?!"

"Orders sir?"

"Recall all patrol-craft and ready all forces for departure! Inform me when the ambassadors arrive."

"Roger, roger," the droid did a smooth about-face and marched away to relay the orders into the central control mainframe.

TX-33 stood and exited the bridge, moving to a lift that would take him to the officers' quarters. He had taken a room on the level as there were no organics to use them. The ambassadors would need accommodations though and the officers' quarters were more or less the only rooms capable of providing "comfort" to an organic being. They would probably want something with a certain degree of luxury too, but there was very little chance of them getting that at all. No doubt, they would complain to him like their problems were a concern he would deal with personally. That would not happen either.

                                                                              --

It was going to be worse than TX-33 had calculated- the Separatist representatives were Neimoidians.

Their species in particular never gave the galaxy any evidence or indication that they had spines. Shadowy dealings were their specialty and they went to exorbitant measures to look wealthy and powerful. If danger was ever present, TX-33 knew that, statistically, a Neimoidian would either retreat or immediately surrender and try to cut a deal. Tee-ex wondered if it might be better to be melted down now rather than risk Count Dooku's rage if he were driven to killing them later.    

Their shuttle was arriving in the main hangar and he was there to "greet" them after disembarking. A detachment of droids had split into two neat rows to form an honor guard. TX-33 stood next to another droid, a command droid of the OOM-series designated 174. This droid was rather like TX-33. He also thought that the galaxy was due a droid revolution.

The sheathipede shuttle approached the landing area and spun around smoothly to expose the back side before touching down. As valves released jets of steam the rear ramp lowered and the pressure doors opened. Two magnaguards disembarked first, standing at attention at the base of the ramp. Next a small entourage of four Neimoidians and a few protocol droids began approaching TX and 174. The two Neimoidians in the lead were dressed in lavish robes and wore ornate miters.

Despite the fact that he would rather not acknowledge their presence at all, TX-33 was still programmed to be polite when speaking to organic superiors (at least while they were present and not hindering his tactical operations). "Greetings ambassadors," he intoned when they were a few paces away. "Now that you have arrived…" he faded away and brought up his arm, which had a comlink built in and said, "Deploy the fleet and initiate the jump to Orto."

"Roger, roger," replied the other side.