open | I'm passing sleeping cities, fading by degrees

[droide]

CHARACTERS: L3-37 and YOU!
LOCATION: All around the station
DATE: Throughout the beginning of November
CONTENT: Getting acclimated
WARNINGS: None, will edit as necessary

Elthree has a lot to come to terms with, in her first few days aboard Ximilia station. She's grateful that her body has been restored, but a bit put off that it apparently took several decades to do (if what Finn said about the Empire having fallen over thirty years prior is true). Most of the people here wouldn't know a droid if they saw one, so when they do see one, they don't quite know how to react. Which is all fine by Elthree, as she doesn't quite know how to react around them, either. She takes to wandering the station, seeing what she can do to pass the time.

Kitchen

Elthree doesn't need to eat. And she doesn't know how to cook, so she isn't about to be roped into any kind of kitchen duties. Being told by organics to perform a task, even if it's a task that the organics themselves are also performing, hits too close to home and feels too much like being conscripted into servitude like her droid brethren. This is a life she fought to free herself from. She isn't going to go back to it that easily.

But, she's bored. So she hangs around the kitchen anyway, giving color commentary on the people who are in there, trying to make a decent meal for themselves.

"You're really going to eat that?" She intones, laying the skepticism on thick. "Alright... It's your fleshy organic body that you're seeking to ruin. Don't let me stop you."

Control Room

When she's not bothering people in the southeast wing, Elthree makes her way to the closed doors at the entrance to the north wing, poking and prodding at the controls in a futile attempt to get them to open. This station's tech isn't compatible with her hardware, so she can't just slice in and override the locks, but it bothers her that there is a whole third of the station that they do not have access to. So, desperate attempts are made, and though she fails every time, she does not give up trying.

Simulation Room

As stated previously, this station isn't built for Elthree to be able to slice into its systems and interface with them directly. It's somewhat frustrating, having to go about programming a simulation the old fashioned way like any boring old organic. But, program it she does, because she's feeling rather stressed and needs something familiar to relax.

Should anyone walk into the simulation room while she's there, they will enter into a dark room with a hologram projection of an enormous spiral galaxy. From where Elthree stands at the room controls, she zooms in and out on various sections of the map, pulling up hyperspace routes between various star systems, immersing herself in memories of her favorite trips aboard the Millennium Falcon. If anyone does walk in, she won't say anything for a long moment, but if they step too far into the room, interrupting her quiet reflection, she'll greet them with a brusque and impatient, "Did you want anything?"

Lab/Tech Storage

Ostensibly speaking, Elthree is welcome to a room in the south west wing, just like any other of her organic crewmates. But the idea of having a bed to call her own when she doesn't really need one is something that is unfamiliar to Elthree, and she still has this lingering feeling that she's overstepping, and if she does finally claim one of the rooms as her own, someone will come up and take it away from her.

So, in an effort to avoid losing something she's never been allowed to have before, she puts off claiming a room for as long as she can. Instead, she stays awake while the rest of the station sleeps, keeping herself busy reading through various bits of other crew members' research in the laboratory. When she does need to power down and recharge, she does so in the tech storage area. She's somewhat ashamed of this, yes, because she knows that relegating herself to storage like she's just a piece of cargo goes against her efforts towards droid equality, but it's better than having a room taken away from her, she rationalizes. On the off chance that anyone needs something from tech storage in the wee hours of the morning, they'll find Elthree's inert form propped up in a corner, her optic dimly pulsing, until she becomes aware of movement nearby and it brightens again.

"Oh, I-- I didn't think anyone would come in here."

Wildcard

[ Want to plot something else? HMU @ millennialfalcon or ©hris#1234! Will match prose or brackets, so feel free to do either. ]

Comments

lab/tech storage.

[attackbrows]

Not exactly an odd remark by any stretch of the imagination. Closets have typically proven to be places of solitude, away from all the hustle and bustle. A room that you can’t call your own, but it has its uses. One of them was fetching a few circuit boards from one of the tech drawers.

The Doctor stands by the doorway with a wireless soldering iron in one hand. He can’t help to glance left and right to check if there is anyone else in here who's got the same idea as Elthree. But he isn’t bothered by the sight.

“A space station where one-third of the crew are scientists with no concept of a normal sleep schedule?” he raises his brows. “Seems like there’s been a grave calculation on your end.”

[droide]

Elthree stands and stretches, working out the stiffness in her joints before responding on the subject of her rude awakening.

"Forgive me for not knowing the habitual sleep schedules, or lack thereof, of the station's residents. Three days in without knowing that. Completely unacceptable, I agree."

The sarcasm is strong with this one.

[attackbrows]

The cheek on this one. She’ll go far.

“Ah, yeah. Wonderful chat! Let’s circle around and reconvene back in 1500 hours. See if you can recite the wattages in all the kitchen appliances.”

But the Doctor did disrupt her sleep, so the egg’s on his face this time. He takes a beat to look around the closet. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to recognize that even the mechanical types dream of electric sheep.

“Do you need more time?”

To recharge, he means.

[droide]

"I'll get right on that." No she won't.

But, hey. She's been so rudely awakened. She might as well get up and do something, even if it isn't memorizing all the wattages of the kitchen appliances.

"No, I'll be fine." She stretches, limbering up her joints with the whirring of servos. "It was just a beauty nap, anyway."

Lab/Tech storage

[thelastb1]

Roger himself doesn't actually have a room at this point. He doesn't need to sleep, so he's just been roaming the station and being active for all 24 hours of the day. When he does relax, he goes to the lab to do so, although often he also spends time there writing or tinkering with the technology available.

When Roger enters and awakens Elthree, he pulls back slightly in surprise. However, it doesn't take him long to recover, and when he does he tilts his head and asks in a somewhat hypocritically baffled tone, "Did you power down in here?"

[droide]

Elthree had pretty much had the same plan, but having just been repaired from what would have otherwise been irreparable damage, she's found herself needing to take a break to rest more often than she would otherwise.

There is, though, some embarrassment in her voice at having been caught unawares like this. At least it was only Roger catching her. She decides to try and cover it up with some gruff bravado.

"Yes? Do you know of a better place for it?"

[thelastb1]

"The bedrooms. There should be enough beds for everyone on the station."

Roger moves over to one of the shelves, moving over some boxes to clear a space. He then sits on the shelf. "I haven't actually picked one either. I thought that if I ever needed to go into sleep mode I could just do this." Roger takes on the more portable box-like shape used to easily transport dozens of battle droids in MTTs.

He then lays out on his side, kicking the boxes even further. "I didn't think I'd see you staying in here though."

[droide]

Content to just have a one-on-one chat here in this storage room, Elthree moves one box on top of a sturdier box and sits down on that, shaking her dome idly.

"I don't know. Powering down on a bed just seems... appropriative."

She doesn't need cushions or blankets. The thought of going through the motions as if she were playing dress up as an organic being makes her somewhat uncomfortable.

"I thought it might be better to find somewhere out of the way where I wouldn't be bothered. Seems like I didn't pick the best place for that, though."

[thelastb1]

"Maybe. I just think they're comfortable." Roger may not experience comfort in quite the same way as organics, but the way he processes data from his body's pressure sensors works in similar enough way that he finds certain human furniture comfortable. Although despite this he's still fine with staying on his shelf, for now.

"But if it works for you, I can just avoid coming here at night. Find another place to relax."

Lab/Tech Storage

[unclesam]

Sam's strolling into tech storage on mostly a whim. He's got a set of tools for Redwing's routine calibrations in his room, but truth be told, there are days he prefers to get out of his room.

Case in point: the wee hours of morning, on the tails of a nightmare still itching under his skin. His tend to be less severe than Bucky's, but sometimes his mind drags back into war, into battles, into losses, into falling to ash and dust while being erased from existence for five years. Not all those dreams leave him able to roll over and drift back to sleep. Some, he chases away in the training room until his muscles scream. Others, he can only wipe away with the almost zen-like relaxation he gets from running standard calibrations and maintenance on Redwing and his wingpack. The wingpack's on a table back in the lab, Redwing's lazily trailing Sam as he enters tech storage - he didn't bother to bring all his shit over here, so he'll make do with what's publically available.

He's preoccupied enough that he doesn't quite register the metal body in the room as another presence, tucked away as she is, until she speaks, at which point Sam jumps slightly.

"Jesus...!" Make a sound hangs at the tip of his tongue - but in all fairness, she did. Sam drags a hand over his face, tries to calm the sudden painful jump of his heart. Serves him right for not paying attention to his surroundings.

Redwing, for his part, gives a soft beep, almost sounding like a chirp, to alert Sam of another presence in the room. Gee, thanks.

Sam turns to face Elthree, jitters giving way to some curiousity. "People come in here all the time. Were you..." He blinks, slowly, confused. "Wait, what were you doing here?"

[droide]

Elthree takes her time coming back to full power, the shutter on her optic opening lazily to take in the scene in the dim light filtering in from the lab. She doesn't recognize the face of the man, but his voice does trigger something in her memory.

"I'd think that would be obvious," is her only answer, before she gives her dome a brisk shake to bring her fully into wakefulness, and strides away from the corner she had tucked herself into.

"I should ask you what you're doing here so late."

[unclesam]

"Got up for some water, figured I might as well do some routine calibrations."

Yeah, no, not at all. Well, half of that is true, at least. It's not that Sam wants to outright lie here, but he's not in the habit of telling people that he's struggling with nightmares. Bucky knows, and that's got to be enough. And droids who are sentient, Sam figures, count as people for that equation for sure.

"Are you... were you sleeping? In here?" He looks around, confused. "Do you need help moving something from here to your room...?" Because that's where his mind goes - that she doesn't have something she needs to... rest or recharge or whatever she'd call it, and it's in here, not in her room. That's the only sensible explanation... right?

[droide]

"I-- No..." No, she doesn't need help moving anything to her room. She doesn't have a room to move things to, yet. She would much rather avoid the subject altogether, thanks.

"Never mind that. Routine calibrations on what?" She peers over at Redwing where he hovers. "Or should I say whom? Hello, there."

Control room!

[coordination]

You're quite persistent.

[ Comes a voice finally, after observing her in silence for a few minutes. Part out of curiosity, part out of hope that maybe one of her determined attempts would actually work. But alas. ]

But thus far no amount of attempts technologically or magically have been able to do shit. And it's been locked like that from the very beginning.

[droide]

I'm quite annoyed.

[ She corrects, shoving her hand against the door one last time before she retreats, and turns to look at the person who's come to interrupt her. ]

If there's a door, it must be able to open somehow. Otherwise it would just be a wall.

[coordination]

You're right about that.

But whatever system that door has in place seems to be under the control of one person, and that's the 'Commander' as he calls himself.

Viveca might have some sort of control, too. But if she's programmed not to allow us entry, then there's not much else that can be done there.

[droide]

[ Elthree seems to 'harumph' a bit, straightening her posture and shaking her dome ruefully. ]

I'll have to have a talk with Viveca about that. See exactly how strict her programming is.

[ She's hoping the station's AI will be more independently minded, like her, but she's seen enough of her droid brethren kept as mind-wiped slaves that she knows to temper her expectations. ]

Simulation Room

[flickerandfade]

Megatron had hoped to program his own simulation. Finding it occupied though is not a deal breaker, especially when sees who the occupant is and what it is she's looking at. He steps forward and spends a long contemplative moment focused on the star map before he finally answers L3's question with one of his own.

"Your home galaxy, I take it?

[droide]

If anyone had to walk in on Elthree being sentimental, she has to admit she'd rather it be Megatron than some random organic.

She nods, tilting her dome silently to beckon him closer to the projection. She then types a few commands into the simulation room's control module, and one of the bright points of light grows brighter, rising from its place near the core of the spiral as Elthree draws attention to it.

"Nubia. That's where I was made." A bit more typing, and another world, farther out towards the outskirts of the galaxy, brightens and rises. "Kessel. Where I last was, before I was brought here."

[flickerandfade]

"You've traveled much," Megatron says, a sense of fondness in his voice.

"If I had the mind for it I would show you a map of my own travels on the Lost Light. The last, best ship I served on."

[droide]

"I've traveled farther than just from Nubia to Kessel."

One by one, more worlds light up, with overlapping lines of light drawn between them. Everywhere Elthree has ever been, on the Falcon, before the Falcon, as an astromech. The lines are brightest where they cut across the Outer Rim-- hyperspace routes she's traveled countless times, smuggling one thing or another outside the watchful eye of the Empire. Anyone with biological eyes would have to shield their vision, the lights get so bright.

Finally, the lights vanish, all at once, as Elthree shuts down the simulation, leaving them in an empty room again. She turns to face Megatron fully.

"Tell me about it?"

kitchen

[winscenario]

It's not the fact that she's a droid that gives Jim a bit of pause. It's more the offhanded comment as she peers at his place, which has him glancing through his food.

It's just a sandwich... okay, granted, maybe it has more mayo on it than it should. Maybe he overdid it on the bacon substitute? Or maybe she's talking about the approximation to a milkshake that he's put together. (And fair, he has eaten a lot of sandwiches lately, not that she'd really know that.)

In the end, he decides to just shoot her a wide smile. "Thank you, I think I'll do just that," he says cheerfully, carrying his plate and tall glass to a table nearby.

[droide]

To be fair to Jim, Elthree would make a snide comment no matter how much mayo he put on his sandwich. She's bored, and feeling particularly useless being stuck on a station, locked out of any bridge or cockpit, so far away from anything familiar that all the star maps in her memory cores are about as useful as a child's drawing.

So, bored, feeling useless, she sees nothing better to do than to bother people who are just trying to have a nice, quiet, peaceful meal. That person at the moment happens to be a man who she realizes would be considered handsome, by human standards, sitting alone at a table with his sandwich and milk drink.

He's not alone for long, though, as Elthree slides into the seat opposite him, saying nothing. Just watching him eat.

[winscenario]

He doesn't seem to be taking her advice (or warning) to heart much, to be fair. He's very happy to compromise the integrity of his organic body with this great sandwich. Or, well, average sandwich— but the milkshake is great, so.

His eyes flicker up to her when she sits across from him, not even talking, just watching him while he eats. Not that it's awkward or anything, but after a few bites and a decent gulp of his drink, he nods to her.

"You're one of the new arrivals," he says. Not really a question, he has never seen her before, and he would have remembered. "What's your name?"

[droide]

Elthree doesn't question how he knows she's new. Even if there were more droids on board the station, her build is unique. That's what being self-made will get you.

"Astute observation. I'm L3-37. What's your name, sandwich man?"