House Rules : Gray
“Home sweet home,” Atton quipped to the empty night’s air as he clumsily ducked under the metal underbelly of his small freighter and half limped, half dragged, his feet out into the open space. The dark sky, dotted with stars, twinkled above while small maintenance droids zipped around his ship and shone bright spotlights around the otherwise pitch black port.
His ship, the Gray Heron, sat comfortably within the confines of the small makeshift docking bay. Its long oval shape was uncommon, the defense turrets were placed at inconvenient angles off to the side, and the wings curved downward at a forty-five degree angle. At the tail end sat the thrusters, two large circular turbines that took too long to heat up and even longer to cool down. Just above him curved the beak, where the cockpit and its accompanying navi-computer sat, with one solid window that offered an excessive 180 degree view. But it flew well and flew fast so it served his purposes fine.
Around the docking bay, high walls separated the pad from the outer fields of Dantooine, and its aggressive indigenous life forms. Forming an octagonal shape, the walls started and ended at a tall navigations tower that stood at the center of four connected docks, and served as the central security hub for the area.
The walls served little opposition for anyone who wanted to get at his ship, Atton realized as he quickly scanned the walls for any suspicious activity. Sure, his timepiece said 02:40, and he was technically standing on Jedi property, which came with some basic droid security, so he and his ship was safe in every sense of the world. But old habits died hard, and Atton was disinclined to eradicate his paranoia.
Plus, all of Galactic Space would freeze over before he ever trusted his life in the hands -claws? tongs?- of a droid.
“Aleypa Koth, Lorda Jeedai Rand,” spoke a familiar protocol droid as its gears whizzed and its thin metal legs clunked noisily on the stone ground.
“C7.” Atton grinned. “They haven’t scrapped you yet?’
“Ne,” the droid clipped in a tone that resembled irritation. “Kuna titoki malia. Chuba ama tuta kato?”
“Wasn’t gone that long, C-Sev. Just a joyride to Tatooine for… business.” Atton smacked the droid on its plated shoulder as he stepped past and headed towards the exit.
“Masta Lorda Shan nuto nagarima niyko,” the droid called to his fleeting back. At his silence, the droid let out a depressed sigh and muttered disparagingly, “Lorda peedunky je ne nolia.”
“Peedunky?” Atton stopped and spun around, his injury forgotten as he strode the few feet and nearly slugged the protocol droid. “Peedunky? I oughta toss you in the scrap heap, you walking tin can!”
“Ma kichi zay, ma kichi zay. Lorda. Ichaga-” the droid wavered as Atton poked it roughly on the center chest piece. “Ichaga, ux joppay ji maspirka?”
“Fix you?” Atton asked incredulously.
“Tagwa. Tagwa pay. Yachak nerima di hatta.”
“Tough luck!” He laughed hollowly. “They can learn it on their own time. Now if you don’t mind, get the droids to fix ship. I’m goin’ for a walk.” Atton abruptly turned and returned to half striding, half limping, across the docking platform.
“Ichaga Lorda Jeedai Rand! Masta Lorda Shan nuto nagarima niyko! Naga-”
“Yeah, yeah!” Atton snapped over his shoulder. “I’ll see her when I see her, tin man.”
The massive durasteel doors cycled open with a loud hiss, and Atton stepped over the threshold onto soft, grassy field. With another loud hiss, the exit cycled shut and left him to the absolute silence of Dantooine’s night.
He shuffled his feet and gingerly rubbed his left side. His hand came away dry, but the dull ache of his ribs coupled with the injury on his lower leg of the same side, made his original plan of walking back to the Enclave a little less appealing. Still, he refused to go back and request a transport, because that would mean someone would be awake and alert the medical droids, which would in turn require certain Masters to be notified of his arrival immediately, and a whole other list of complications that Atton just didn’t want to deal with at three in the force forsaken morning.
No, he would walk. Walk, and limp, back to the enclave.
As he climbed over yet another rolling hill, a worrisome thought popped into his head. “Oh, shunfa,” he grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets. “If my ship so much as has a scratch that wasn’t there before, I swear I’ll dismantle that schutta of a droid myself.”