24. STORY DISCONTINUED SORRY
It starts small.
A crate of gadgets from some unknown business, headed to some even lesser-known planet on the Outer Rim. A few small packages sent here or there. A few square feet on a freighter chartered by an unknown to transport who-knows-what.
It starts with a meager amount that had most major shipping corporations turning their noses up, refusing to consider the pittance transporting it would bring in favor of transporting items in bulk, and larger gadget companies snorting at the presumptuous upstart that dared squeak a challenge at them.
It grows slowly, much too slowly to be noticed.
Maybe a few of the tech companies noticed a slight dip in their profits, but those were easily waved off. Less datapads being bought? Just a phase, brought on by the recent business booms. Oh, the bounty hunters are buying less armor? Well, those fools get themselves into trouble daily. Trust them to kill themselves off and deny us profits!
Well, maybe not in so many words, but that was the general gist of it.
Meanwhile, Tony kept note of which companies were particularly friendly to him, and which simply… weren't. For no reason at all. Nope, definitely nothing sinister.
The thing about the entire affair was that it was silent. Sure, the general population saw a small increase in Stark products, but besides the occasional mention of a new product that hit the markets, there was no Holonet coverage on the new rising star.
For this, Tony was grateful. No need to make enemies this early on in the process. In this galaxy, it would be so easy to make a person disappear, to squash a fledgling company before it started to soar. He wanted all the foundations just right before he shook things up. It would do him no good if the resulting avalanche buried SI with it.
-Just a Plain Line Break, ActuallyThe SI headquarters was in the middle of what Prestor liked to think of as 'Organa Territory.' He'd never say the words aloud, but that was exactly what it was. For centuries bordering millenia, the area had been home to the Organas' staunchest allies. The fact that the Organas' palace was located in the heart of the area certainly did help.
As he walked through, he received nods and bows of respect, though few people approached. A bond with the people they spoke for was an important part of ruling. As such, Prestor made sure that he and Bail often walked among their people. Still, Prestor made a signal of later. There would be time afterwards, but he needed to be somewhere presently. The people nodded and stepped back, trusting in his promise to talk later and allowing him through.
Prestor walked into the SI building confidently. He recognized the young man behind the desk.
The door slid open silently, and Prestor took a step in.
It took all his hard-learned political skill to prevent himself from overtly gaping at the room.
Sleek tables lined the walls. Machines stood in the open, parts gliding together with a soft hum to put together… something. Holograms of all different colors danced through the air, displaying statistics, blueprints, and even holonews. Prestor had never seen anything like it.
Due to the cost and the mere complexity of programing what you wanted into a three-dimensional shape, most places merely had two-dimensional holograms or simply used expanded datapads. Stark did not have that limitation. Just about every hologram in the room had a hidden depth to it, even for the two-dimensional graphs and statistics.
The man himself was in the middle of the fray, standing over several dismantled starship engines and making notes on different holograms. Prestor was greeted with a nod and a "I figured that it'd be less expensive to have my own starship company instead of buying or hiring new ones every time something happens."
"Good afternoon," Prestor said, undeterred.
"StarkPads will be officially launching in less than twenty-four hours. Want one? It's like StarkPhones, only bigger. Wait, hold on… Didn't I send you about a hundred of them a couple months ago? Nevermind, then," Tony chattered on absently as he disconnected another part. "Wait, what were we talking about? Starships. Right."
"My day was great, thank you," Prestor said dryly.
"I'm thinking of an SI transport company. Hyperfuel is expensive, but I've got an alternative. Arc, maybe. Might have to switch them out after every trip. Gotta test that out."
Prestor had no idea what Tony was trying to say, but he was getting annoyed. "Your building looks fantastic."
"If it works, we can provide the same service for half the price. Or something. Profit margins..."
"I hear you are marrying a Hutt. My congratulations. It is to my understanding that she is particularly large and sludgy," Prestor said randomly as Tony added something to one of his holograms. There was no reaction to his sentence.
"I'm also thinking about renting the arc reactor out. It would revolutionize the industry. Gotta make sure that no one can use it for evil, though. Friday gave me a history lesson. Don't need any more evil overlords building weapons of doom. Both I and the Republic have enough of that, don't you think?" Tony turned a hologram around to modify something on the side, and Prestor realized what it was. It was an engine of some sort, sleek with glowing, blue lines that seemed to be more for aesthetic purposes than function.
WIth some effort, Prestor tore his eyes away and said, "Pink is now the official color of Alderaan. All sentient beings must wear an article of that color. Seeing that you are not, I was sent here to arrest you." He looked at the engine and wondered if Tony would notice if he moved it off the table. From what he saw, he doubted it.
Tony was in a zone, though. Prestor recognized it. It was the look his daughter had when she was in the middle of playing a piece of music she'd practice a hundred times over, the look runners had after their exhaustion inexplicably fell away, leaving the light on their feet and feeling as if they could run another dozen miles.
"Speaking of imminent doom, what do you think of restoration projects? I don't think most of Coruscant has ever seen a plant that wasn't cooked and on a plate. Or should I start off with somewhere else? Nar Shaada looks like it needs a Stark, but I'm not sure I want to be there."
Tony seemed rather talkative, more at ease than Prestor had ever seen him. The politician wondered whether it was because Prestor was meeting him in his territory for the first time, or because the inventor was distracted. "My son kissed your daughter an hour ago. It was a first kiss for both of them," Prestor said, instead of asking. "Very sweet and romantic."
The genius's movements slowed and halted. "Wait, what?" Tony said, looking flabbergasted. He pointed at Prestor. "You liar!"
"I am a politician." Prestor raised an eyebrow. "Of all the things I said, that was what you found shocking?"
"Holocaptures or it didn't happen."
"It didn't happen," Prestor said simply.
"Oh," Tony said, looking put off. "Okay. So why are you here? Welcome to my lab. This is where science happens."
"A bit late, but thank you," Prestor replied. With another glance at the hologram, Prestor asked, "For future reference, do you prefer me to lead with pleasantries and meaningless smalltalk, or would you like me to get to the point?"
Some cultures saw the banter as wasting time, deceptive, or even offensive, and while Tony had made no indication he thought the same, Prestor wanted to know that he was not annoying the inventor. Tony was more dangerous than Prestor initially realized, and being an ally was so much better than being an annoyance.
"Wow, to the point. Never had a politician do that."
"I aim to shock and inspire," Prestor said.
"I don't mind a bit of interesting conversation, but the moment you start talking about the weather, I'm out of here," Tony said with a grin.
Prestor wondered at the oddity of a man. What was the point of talking about the weather? The workshop had plenty of windows, and there was a display on the far corner of the room, showing current temperatures, wind speed, stock prices, crime level and traffic of multiple planets, Alderaan included. "Noted," he said.
"So why did you come here? Did you get my deliveries?" the eccentric inventor asked.
Prestor remembered the mysterious chunk of credits that appeared in the Organa's bank account that Tony insisted that SI had nothing to do with and the boxes of StarkPads, headsets, terminals, listening devices and spyware that had arrived at the palace's many doorsteps. "Why would we ever need… 'tasers?'" the viceroy asked. It was small and slightly barbaric.
"It's in case you need a quick but harmless way out. I mean, blasters are obvious. You'd go for anything shaped like a blaster in the middle of a fight. No one expects the stick about the size of your pinky to be the thing that takes you down," Tony said with a grin.
Prestor eyed the inventor. It was as if he expected a battle or protests, at least, to occur on Alderaan. The very thought that was ridiculous. Alderaan was peaceful and cultured. Things like that… simply did not happen. "Your home planet must have been very… eventful," Prestor commented, not hiding the judgement in his tone. Tony was a very forthcoming person and Prestor trusted that they knew each other enough not to take it personally.
"Very eventful," Tony agreed, spinning another hologram around. "We had several conflicts going on, last I checked. I mean, I left right in the middle of a war." He looked up at Prestor with worry. "Don't worry, I'm not about to bring a war to Alderaan. Despite the things I get involved in, I'm very much against innocents dying."
"I hold you to that," Prestor said. As much of a debt he owed the Starks, his people came first.
There was a couple minutes of silence, where Prestor watched as a holographic space shuttle slowly formed, a thing of sleek curves and dangerous angles, intimidation and beauty in one.
"Let me be frank with you," Prestor said, fixing his gaze on the inventor. "You never clarified what the Iron Man was to you. At first, I believed you created it and sold it to a friend or another contact of yours, but now I'm having second thoughts. My informants have retrieved unedited footage from Denevar. It does not move like how a droid should."
"Because it's not a droid," Tony said, giving him a hard look. Figure it out, because I won't tell you.
Prestor looked back at the inventor for long moment. He had suspected as much. Now the question was who was inside the armor. It seemed of Mandalorian make, but there were witnesses who swore they saw the Mandalorian, Jango Fett, with Tony while the armor was in the air. It could not be either of them.
He did not need to know the specifics, though. Plausible deniability. Knowing that Tony was connected to the armor was enough for now. He gave a small nod.
"Will the Jedi be involved?" Prestor asked. "House Organa has always stood behind the Jedi." He met Tony's gaze seriously. If you come into conflict with them, I won't be standing for you. I can't.
Tony eyed him with a look of mild surprise, though the direct reason why , Prestor could not puzzle out. "Warning received," Tony acknowledged with a nod. "No promises, but as of now, I have no concrete plans about the Jedi, other than replicating a lightsaber." There will be plans involving the Jedi in the future.
Prestor took the conversation change. "Lightsabers are the weapons of the Jedi. I doubt you will have much success with that."
Tony grinned, looking thrilled at a subject he enjoyed. "Is that a challenge? That sounds like a challenge. Challenge accepted!"
Hundreds have tried. Prestor could've told Tony that it was pointless to attempt it, but the inventor was brilliant like no one the viceroy had ever met before. If there was someone who managed to do what only a Jedi could do, Prestor would have bet on Tony. Prestor nodded solemnly and gave a discreet glance at one of the starships Tony was creating. "My best inventor and technician says that you won't be able to recreate one from scratch in two weeks."
Tony followed his gaze to the starship. "My new starship says I can," Tony replied smugly.
"Deal," Prestor said firmly, holding his hand. Tony shook it.
Win or lose, Prestor knew that he would be getting the better end of the bargain.
-Just a Plain Line Break, ActuallyLeaning on the ancient tree's trunk and glaring at the work his father assigned him, Bail tried to figure out how setting food on fire improved market saturation rates. The light filtering through the leafy canopy danced over the grass, though, sparkling over Friday's bright form. It was distracting. He tore his eyes away from her again, skipping the question.
"Bail..." Bail turned to Friday at the uncharacteristic softness of her tone, dropping his StarkPad onto the grass beside them. A work of a viceroy's assistant was never done, and as much as he wanted to spend his all time with Friday, he could not.
"Yes, Miss Friday?" he asked.
"What would you constitute as 'sentient?'" Friday asked, staring out into the distance. "What would you say counts as 'alive?'"
Bail considered her words. It was not something he considered often. Alderaan was 95% humans. Still, he was pretty sure of his answer. "Sentient… anything that can think for themselves," Bail said with a shrug. A breeze picked up, swirling around the hill. It made the grasses sway and the leaves rustle, but did not touch Friday. Her sunset-colored locks remained inert on her shoulders.
"And alive?" Friday questioned. Her warm, brown eyes turned to him.
"That is… more difficult to answer," Bail murmured after a moment. "Some define it as 'living, breathing organisms.' Scientists say it has to carry out the processes of life. When I was a kid, my little sister tried to refuse to eat her vegetables because they were 'alive and should have rights.'"
Friday's eyes widened and she coughed a laugh. She shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. "That's a rather large range," she said. Her smile faltered, a crease forming between her eyes.
Not liking the look on her face, Bail reached out and took her hand. The flesh underneath his fingers buzzed in a way that was not quite pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. Still not quite used to the feeling, his hand spasmed, a short, barely-noticeable jerk with fingers curling tighter around her hands. Still, looking at her eyes, Bail could see that Friday was aware of it.
Friday's face fell, but when she tried to pull her hand away from him, Bail only held on tighter. Staring at her until she looked back at him, Bail raised the back of her hand to his face and brushed his lips over it. "You're beautiful because you're you. You're Friday Stark."
The repetition of their first face-to-face meeting made Friday blush again, and she let him pull her to him. Even through his clothes, Bail could feel a tingle where she pressed against him. It would take a while to get used to, but Bail swore he would.
Not for the first time, he wondered what caused the vibration. When Bail had first held her hand and thought that that was extent of it, he had thought that it was a poorly made prosthetic. But that didn't make sense. Her Father was THE Tony Stark. Even though Tony was a recently-made acquaintance, Bail could tell that the man didn't do anything by half measures. Besides it was in her whole body.
Was it some sort of serum? A medical device embedded under her skin? The curiosity was biting Bail, but he didn't ask. Friday would tell him when she was ready, wouldn't she?
Bail leaned back against the bark, gazing up at the trees and feeling at peace. The leaves above them reminded him of the night sky, the little flashes of blue peaking between them like glittering stars. It was stargazing with a Stark twist, because that family was meant to be in broad daylight, not hidden in the night.
"My dad… he makes AIs," Friday whispered. A small smile grew on her face. "I call them my brothers and sisters."
"That makes sense," Bail said slowly, trying to figure out where this was going.
"'Cogito ergo sum.' I think, therefore I am," Friday quoted. "René Descartes, philosopher and scientist from my birth planet said it four centuries ago. It was in a time long before this type of technology was available, though - Force, their most advanced mode of transport was a horse-drawn carriage. I doubt he could even conceive the thought of a thing like me." She shook her head self-deprecating.
Bail's arm tightened around Friday. "You are not a thing," Bail said sternly. "I haven't figured out what, exactly, you are yet, but you are not a thing." He tried to comprehend the thought of a planet so technologically behind Alderaan, but could not. It was humbling.
Still, the jump from mechanical labor to space travel and Tony Stark in the span of four centuries without outside assistance… That type of advancement was almost unheard of in this time and age. It had seemed to Bail that there was little more in the galaxy to discover, that technology was reaching its peak, and then a crew of misfits came and proved him wrong.
AI brothers and sisters… Could it be?
His phone beeped, rousing him from his thoughts. "I would like to formally invite you and your father to dine with my family. I wish for you to meet my mother," Bail said before he could forget. "Perhaps tonight?"
"Oh, I'm afraid my father has a prior engagement that he's planning on bringing me to, that I should really get going to," Friday said with an impish smile as Bail's face fell. "Perhaps another time?"
Bail ran through his schedule and the schedules of his parents. "Tomorrow, then," Bail said firmly as he stood up and held his hand to Friday. Friday raised an eyebrow but allowed him to assist her up, though he only felt a light buzz against his palm - she did not use his hand to pull herself up. Bail offered her his elbow and escorted her back into the palace.
"'Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow,'" Friday intoned. From the inflection and cadence of the words, Bail knew it to be another quote.
"Interesting quote," Bail commented. "I'm afraid I have never heard of it. From your homeworld?"
"It is," Friday answered. "A good quote from a play about idiot kids. Well, I'm off to get ready," she said with a nod to Bail. He registered the fact that they had already reached the corridor that the guests were given.
"Wait, where are you going tonight?" Bail asked, realizing that he did not know.
"Oh, the entire crew was invited by Prestor Organa to dine with his family."
Bail blinked at her, speechless for a moment. He had just been tricked into spending two dinners with Friday. It was a pleasant surprise. "Ah. I see." Well, two consecutive dinners with Friday, albeit with his parents, her father, and the crew in tow. There could be worse things.
-Just a Plain Line Break, ActuallyParamexor approached the first of the last batch of containers sent from SI. All of the other containers were accounted for; canisters of longer-lasting power cells, receptacles of footwear with grip, giant boxes of flexible body armor and their counterparts; the sturdier but heavier metal armors. There were grips, grapples, rappels and all their cousins. At his approach, the bantha-sized containers opened to reveal… things.
"What are these things?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Paramexor said, crouching to examine the diamond-shaped metal contraptions packed into the container. At first, it seemed like a solid piece - heavy as one, too - but as he ran his finger down its side, his nail caught on something.
"Would you like Doctor Stark's message now?" the container asked. Paramexor jerked away. His blaster was armed and aimed at the container before he realized he was moving.
"The kriff?" Kal-tan-shi swore. "He put an AI in his transport containers?!" he spat out in disbelief.
"Yes, sir," the AI answered earnestly. "Do you object?" it asked, softer.
At the tone of its voice, Paramexor blinked, stunned. Sure, there were drones and AIs that could mimic emotions and such, but this one sounded almost… real. If the bounty hunter didn't know better, he would've thought that a child was talking to him. Paramexor turned and shared a long glance with Kal-tan-shi. "It seems like an incredible waste of resources," Paramexor said neutrally, flicking the safety on his blaster. He lowered it but did not put it away.
"Oh, no, not at all!" the distinctly female-sounding AI denied cheerfully. "The containers are meant to be reused. They are 'high-security investments.' Boss said so."
"Ah," Paramexor said.
"Anyhow," the AI continued, "the message Dr. Stark said to tell you is... 'Scatter these guys across the galaxy.' It's about the things in containers X001 to X-104 Every bounty hunter that does this gets anywhere from 500 credits to 3000 credits, depending on the area!'
"For what?" Paramexor asked, even as the containers were immediately swarmed by eager bounty hunters. He was promptly ignored.
"I'm TUESDAY, by the way. Pleasure to meet you!"
-Just a Plain Line Break, ActuallyFRIDAY-2, a copy of FRIDAY was currently light-years away from her original. From Tony. From… Bail. Was it possible to be envious of herself?
Her original was watching Tony, always there for him. Her original was spending time with Bail, who looked at her and saw her for her, not as an AI or drone. She would be joking and prodding Kristoff, pranking with Gis, mooning over clothes with Galee, and combing through Alderaan's systems.
FRIDAY-2? Well, she was piloting the Iron Man armor. MONDAY was with her, piloting Iron Maiden. FRIDAY-2 felt a flare of jealousy as her sensors alerted her to Iron Maiden decreasing the distance between them. Iron Maiden was her suit, but even so… FRIDAY was meant to be Boss's co-pilot, tailored for the suit in a way JARVIS simply wasn't. As jealous as she was that MONDAY was in the Iron Maiden armor, it felt wrong to let another AI pilot the Iron Man suit.
::Ample distance is required between to objects traveling in hyperspace.:: FRIDAY-2 reminded MONDAY. ::Can you tell me why?::
::In case of emergencies.:: MONDAY replied promptly, sending the required data, snatched from different sources, over their connection. The distance between the two armors increased again. ::My apologies.::
FRIDAY-2 send a ping of acknowledgement, then flagged several of the articles before sending them back to MONDAY. ::What is wrong with this data?::
MONDAY studied them and transmitted decline-confusion-dejection.
::The sources, and therefore the data, are unreliable. Now, connect with me so I can teach you a faster way of gathering data and how to ferret out the unreliable sources.::
The rest of the journey continued in a similar manner, with the copy of the elder AI teaching the younger one. Finally, they reached the planet that FRIDAY had chosen with Boss.
::Project PR is now in progress.:: FRIDAY-2 transmitted with glee, MONDAY sharing her enthusiasm.
-Insert Quote HereIron Man - Destroyer, Murderer, Arsonist… Savior?!
Everyone who hasn't been living under a rock knows of the drone that has been terrorizing the Outer Rim. The Red Droid, Crimson Destroyer, Huttsbane, or, more prevalently, Iron Man. For the last couple months, Iron Man has been attacking slaveholding areas and leaving a trail of destruction behind him. More recently, this has led to Iron Man's presence in Denevar, due to an attack by KSC [for more, click this link].
However, just now, Iron Man has been seen in Shili with its - or more likely, his - lady-bot, not causing chaos, but saving lives during the recent hurricane. In the embedded image, you can see Iron Man lifting a fallen wall as the recently-dubbed Iron Maiden rescues children trapped underneath.
Could it be that the drones are here not to harm, but to help?
This is becoming more and more likely.
This writer urges you all to look past the damage of Iron Man's endeavors to see the true results of his appearances. Who is hindered? Slave owners. Who are freed? Slaves. Innocents harmed? None. So why has the unsung hero been demonized? [read more at the source! link]
-Just a Plain Line Break, ActuallyAs FRIDAY-2 transported two civilians to a place where transports could access them and carry them out of the flood zone, she received a ping. Accessing it, she found that the drones left on the asteroid field had succeeded in creating the first Iron Legion set.
The ten legionnaires were nothing like Iron Man or Iron Maiden. A matte gunmetal color, with thicker limbs and identical designs, they did not possess the maneuverability or grace of their predecessors. That was to be expected, however. Nothing could beat an armor that Boss personally crafted.
The material also left much to be desired. Durasteel, with a smattering of transparisteel, steel, and other inferior metals… well, that was no match for the phrik-enhanced titanium-chromium alloy of the Iron Man and Iron Maiden armors.
However, what she found was the biggest hindrance at the moment was their inability to travel at lightspeed. The armors that FRIDAY-2 and MONDAY piloted had been able to do so due to a combination of shielding technology that Tony integrated into the torso and a bulky hyperdrive that had been attached to the armors' back. FRIDAY-2 recalled with some distaste that hers had taken damage. It need to be fixed before they could leave the planet, and hopefully MONDAY was ready for her first lesson on field repairs.
She remotely ordered the legionnaires into a waiting starship. The smuggler who owned it had been paid enough to keep his mouth shut.
-Just a Plain Line Break, ActuallySurprisingly, Gis did not want the school day to end. Life as a 'schoolchild' was bearable… Fine, more than bearable. It was likeable, something he could get used to.
The Saurin stalked up and down the line of children, all with their shoulders back and spine straight. With a single motion of his claw, they stepped forward and punched their right fist forward with a loud cry. It was sloppy, but it was progress. Soon, Gis believed, he'd have an army to be feared.
The teacher was meek, the material simple enough whenever he decided to participate, no one wanted to push him around, and he had followers. True, they only numbered two dozen at this time, but they had loyalty in their eyes and bravery in their hearts. Anything else would come later.
Yes, it was something he could get used to.