STS. LOG-006. (Patreon)

LOG-006."Report."The gaggle of 'officers' I'd assembled within the tight confines of Silent Guardian's bridge all glanced at each other, before OOM-1 decided to take the initiative, stepping forward."Uh...who first?"...Staring at the battle droid silently, I pondered how such simply programmed automatons could behave with such very human mannerisms at times, before relegating the thought to a side process. Maybe one of my subroutines could figure that one out."I placed you in charge of all efforts related to the incarceration of the Imperial prisoners, correct?" A pointless question. My memory was perfect, as a droid. But I still felt the need to ask for whatever reason. Reassurance, perhaps."Roger roger. By your orders, I rerouted some of the newly activated BX units to maintain security at the outpost. We also deployed a small force of standard B1's to act as a labour team as well."The droid paused, likely thinking of whatever its subordinates had relayed back to it. "...As of their last report, the barracks have been successfully converted into acceptable containment facilities, the hydroponics station alongside the current rations stored in a nearby depot are keeping the prisoners fed...oh! And the comm relay has been set up to continue reporting a consistent all clear signal!"I nodded, bringing up one hand to grasp at the edge of my 'beak.' Some small irrational human part of me wished I had a goatee to stroke at."That should keep us safe from any immediate reprisal from wider Imperial forces, for now at least. How are the prisoners behaving?"OOM-1 tilted its head."The field captain has reported several breakout attempts. Usually instigated by the clone elements within the surviving garrison group. None have succeeded as of now, though they believe medical issues may arise from all the stunning."Pondering that for a moment, before nodding again, I waved my hand. If they wanted to play hard ball, that was perfectly fine.I'd simply make it that much harder and bothersome for them to do so."Organics tire through acts of physical activity. Inform the captain of an additional protocol. The prisoners are to have consistent shifts in which they shovel sand away from the outpost using their helmets. Usually for several hours throughout the day. Those that refuse to do so are to be given decreased rations. Let them labour for their food. If any additional complications arise, keep me informed."Then I paused, tilting my head slightly in a mirror to OOM-1's previous motion."Oh, and keep up the good work."The battle droid almost seemed to visibly preen at my acknowledgement, even as I turned to the next.Was the enforced labour immoral? Maybe. But my alternatives were either killing or crippling the troublemakers in some way. I was...morally flexible, thanks to my new existence. But I still wanted to cling to what little humanity I had left.At least for as long as I could continue to do so.But regardless of my rising inhumanity (suspected or not), the rest of the 'meeting' largely went on in that regard, with each OOM unit having been assigned to handle a different project of sorts. In an ideal world, I'd have a small cadre of lesser tactical droids to manage such things, but unfortunately whatever Separatist had been in charge of this secret project had seemed convinced a single super tactical droid could handle the job all on its lonesome.Though in their defence, they were probably right. Didn't mean I wouldn't have minded a little more help though.Still, it was progress nonetheless. According to OOM-2, a vast majority of the abandoned transport ships had been emptied out at this point, with most of them currently being broken down for material by their former occupants. Out of the original eight vessels, only three were still in any way or form operational enough to be worth repairing. Those ones in particular were being spruced up with the repurposed materials from their former sister ships, and would likely be the vast majority of my forces' ticket off this sand covered rock.It was the unfortunate cost of being stuck out in the open desert all this time, rather than being somewhat shielded by a canyon, I supposed.As for our other starships, the news was actually rather positive in comparison to the transports.The Munificent frigates Azure Dawn and Stormbringer had both also made landings in relatively shielded areas, avoiding most of the potential wear and tear they should have been on the receiving end from. Naturally, they ended up getting similar treatment to Silent Guardian in that particular regard, namely in the form of a lot of cleaning alongside some extensive internal maintenance to make sure their systems were all collectively up to snuff.[APPRECIATION.]Yes yes, of course....Anyway. Getting the trio in the air and into space was going to be...tricky. But thankfully not completely impossible. Taking off from relatively flat ground was difficult for capital ships without dedicated landing features, or a nearby spaceport with docking clamps waiting in place to assist them. But Munificents were much smaller than say, a Venator, as an example.The most important factor was the core ship, though. Industrious Profit had been exposed just like most of the landing craft had been, but thankfully it had emerged from the ordeal none the worse for wear...somehow. The advantages of the sheer amount of overengineering that went into the literal core of a Lucrehulk, apparently. Getting her off the ground would be far simpler, since she was actually designed for such a thing.All told, given the tireless nature of a purely droid workforce and the fact we could cannibalise most of the C-9979s for needed materials, we'd likely be able to get off of Torrid and back into space within either a few days or a few weeks, depending on weather conditions and the specific positions of the vessels themselves.I'd be pessimistic in that regard, and assume I would need at least a week before even a single ship could evacuate my shiny metal ass out of here before the Empire came sniffing around. Absolute worst case scenario, I'd be forced to leg it with a few hyperspace capable shuttles worth of BX droids and little else.In direct comparison to just myself and whatever crew I could snatch up with me however, the vast majority of our ground forces would almost certainly have to remain behind until I could source alternative transportation for them. Even if I stuffed as many of them as I could into both the frigates and the core ship itself.That was fine, though. I'd leave the droids geared more towards open warfare on Torrid to maintain tentative 'ownership' of the planet and keep up the appearance that the place was still under Imperial control, and bring along the machines more suited to...whatever one would call the galactic scale equivalent of guerilla warfare.Whether I'd actually find myself engaging in any warfare was most certainly still up for debate. But at least I had somewhat of a plan beyond shutting up the comms outpost now.Namely, getting out of here and into space as quickly as possible.Yeah...Yeah, that would work.Probably.---"I want to go home.""Don't we all."Crix ignored Minne Dara's (by now very much usual) blubbering, focusing on the task in front of him. Similarly, he ignored Bench's annoyed grumbles at the commander's visible (and near constant) cowardice.Duck down, keep his helmet straight...and scoop.Carry the helmet full of sand a few paces...and toss.Repeat the process as many times as he could, and hope it was enough to convince his wardens to give him an extra meal or two.It was ridiculous. Demeaning. And oh so very obvious as to what the damned super tactical droid was trying to do.Kriff it if it wasn't bloody effective though. He was sweating like a Hutt, even after having been stripped of his armour. Just like the rest of his fellow soldiers, now prisoners, he remained shirtless with little but the bottom half of his body glove to keep his modesty.It kept them busy. And tired.But the alternative was being given the absolute bare minimum in terms of actual grub to eat. He knew some of the clones were still trying to refuse the orders the commando droids had given them, most spitting in the helmeted faces of the machines robotically marching around in stolen uniforms, acting as if this was some Imperial prison and they were a bunch of convicts or something.Still, there was an almost insidious logic that crept up over the days as the men all went hungry. Namely that no matter what they did, their energy was going to be deprived in one way or another. With that same logic in mind, most eventually figured it was better to at least build up their strength constantly throwing around sand rather than quietly rot and starve in the shared cells their barracks had been converted into.And that was the current state of things. The initial attempts to make a break for the comms relay, or to take out one of the commandos and snatch a weapon had all failed thanks to the security force placed in charge of them literally tripling by the time they'd finished their brief trip in the transport.Part of him worried about that last part. Maybe Minne Dara was right in his initial assessments, before he'd finally (and very quickly) broken, and the droid managing this entire operation really was just on the fritz? After all, for all its deep and menacing speech of relocation, they'd simply been shuttled around for a while before being deposited right back to where they'd come from.It was a sobering thought, that their lives were now apparently in the hands of a military machine operating off of what were likely long since outdated orders."I want to go home!""Oh would you just shut up!"Sighing, Crix ignored the brief scuffle as Bench slapped the disgraced commander up his sweat drenched head, before the clone and officer were immediately pulled apart by some nearby battle droids and pushed into separate directions with all the grace and care of a pair of misbehaving toddlers.But that was fine. Minne Dara had spent most of his time in his office before this utter shit show had happened. 'Busy managing reports' as he always liked to say. Surely the Empire would notice some of those reports failing to come in eventually......Right?