Indiana Jones and the Sith Stone
Posted by: Darth Danno 12.19.07 12:01am

ndy crossed back to the bed, sat down, and placed his head in the palms of his hands. This was all just too much. Foreign planets, flying cars, and freaky old men dressed in black robes with mysterious powers. How do I get out of this, he wondered. Even if he were to get out, where would he go, how would he get home, and exactly which way IS home from here? Something told him that once he found whatever he was brought here to find, his captor had no intention of sending him back to Earth. This guy, whomever or whatever he was, just didn't seem the type, time travel or not.

"Get a hold of yourself." He said, as he stood up and started pacing around the room. He was still alive, in one piece, and had his wits about him, for the most part considering his present circumstances. His weapons might not be much compared to what this world had to offer, but they were better than nothing. He just needed time; time to think, to get his bearings, to formulate some sort of plan. If his kidnapper was a bad guy, which seemed pretty certain that he was, there had to be some sort of good guys around. Someone who could help him get back home, providing they didn't think he was simply off his rocker, and lock him up in whatever passed for an asylum in these parts and throw away the key. After all, he had been far away from home before...well, not THIS far away. He'd been in tight situations before this...but nothing ever this tight. One thing was certain, when it came to having an adventure, this one took the cake. The sudden reference to food made him remember how hungry he was.

The door to his room slid open, and a figure clad entirely in silver entered carrying a shiny metal covered tray. Indy stopped his pacing and slowly made his way to where his whip and gun lay.

"Greetings!" The figure said, as it crossed to a table at the far side of the room and set the tray upon it. "I am TC-10, at your service." It spoke in a clearly feminine voice.

Indy casually grabbed his pistol and slid it into the holster on his belt. He slung the whip over his shoulder, and cautiously approached his guest. As he got closer, he realized this wasn't some person dressed in some funny silver garb, this was something made completely out of metal, a real live, walking, talking, robot!

"Who...did you say you were?" Indy queried.

"I am TC-10, at your service." The droid replied.

"And you're...a robot?"

"The correct term sir, is droid. But yes, I am a mechanical being."

Indy began to circle the droid, trying to look at it from every angle. "So you're not some guy dressed up like a rob..., I mean, droid. You're an actual machine."

"Oh I am much more than a machine, sir! We can think, and act of our own accord, droids of this day and age come in a variety of shapes and sizes, to go along with the myriad uses we were designed to perform. My master said you come from a backward planet. I cannot imagine a world so prehistoric that you don't even have some form or rudimentary R1 Astromech dr..."

"Hold it. R1? What exactly is an...R1? And for that matter, what are you?"

Very well sir, I shall give you a brief overview of droids. First off, there are five classes of droids, not counting the cyborg variety. Class one droids are generally the intellectuals. Medical, science, and mathematics droids fall into this category. Class two droids include, but are not limited to: Astromech, Exploration, Engineering, and Repair droids. The R1 through R9 astromech units of course fall within this grouping. Class three includes myself, the protocol droids, along with the servant, tutor, and childcare droids. Class four are..."

"Okay, okay. I get it." Indy said as he scratched his head and crossed to the table. He lifted the lid off the tray and stared down at the "food" he was brought. "What is it?" He asked.

"It is a combination of..."

"Forget it," Indy interrupted, as he placed the lid over the tray once again. "Perhaps it's better if I don't know."

"Suit yourself, sir. I can promise you that it is highly nutritious and quite filling."

"Swell. Let's get back to you. So there are different...droids for different uses?"

"Oh yes, we all have our specialty, and have even developed our own distinct personalities."

"Are any of you designed to, um...kill?"

"I'm afraid so, sir. That however is not part of my programming, thank the maker! Assassination and the like are better suited to Class four droids. Nasty lot they are, not at all personable. If I may be so bold to say so, sir. I wouldn't doubt some of them have developed a taste for carnage. A flaw in their programming, if you ask me."

"So how exactly do you work? Is it some sort of...remote control, or what?"

"Oh no sir, we act on our own accord within the parameters of our set programming. That's not to say someone couldn't change our programming and alter those parameters. But why anyone would want to turn a protocol droid into an assassin droid, or an R2 unit into a Binary Loadlifter, which, by the way, is a Class five droid, is beyond me."

"Riiiiiight. Well, thanks for all the info."

"My pleasure sir. If you need any further assistance, I am at your disposal." The droid then turned and crossed back to the door.

"Any idea how I can get the heck out of here?" Indy said, partly to himself.

The droid turned to face him. "I'm sorry, sir, could you please repeat that?"

"Never mind, I wouldn't want you getting...dismantled on my account."

"Very good sir, enjoy your meal." With that, the droid exited.

Indy stood there a few moments, processing this new info. Robotic people, he mused. He had thought about asking how the unit had come to have a female voice, but didn't have all day for the answer. He turned back to the table, removed the cover from the dish once again, and stared down at his meal. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the food was poisoned. But quickly dismissed the idea, as no one would go to the time and expense of bringing him all this way just to kill him, would they? He picked up one of the utensils and stuck it into the yellow mush; he lifted a smidgeon to his nose, took a whiff, and not being overly repulsed, shoveled it into his mouth. Surprisingly, it didn't taste too bad, and after all, he had eaten some strange things in his travels. In no time the plate was clean, and the droid was correct, it was quite filling, whatever it was.

Shortly after he finished, the door opened once again, re-admitting TC-10.

"Hello again, sir. How did you find your meal?"

Indy shrugged, "I don't know, I just lifted the cover and there it was." He cracked a smile, but the droid made no motion or notion to acknowledge his joke. Indy simply shrugged again. "Sorry, just an old joke from where I come from."

"I'm sorry sir, but I am not programmed for humor."

"Considering who you work for, why doesn't that surprise me." Indy said to himself.

"If you won't be requiring anything else at this moment sir, then could you please follow me, my master desires to speak to you. Something to do with your mission?"

Indy was just about to follow, when he looked down and realized he wasn't wearing his shoes. "Let me put my shoes on," he told the droid, "then lead the way."

Darth Danno