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thefuriousmagician · 3 months ago

Text

What a Beautiful Lie

“I’m sorry, you want to take me where for my first time to a droid bar?”

“Ta Nar Shaddaa! C’mon, it’s nice, promise.”

The two droids currently stood in the 1974’s cockpit, Huyang blocking the larger pirate droid from even thinking about getting into the copilot seat.

“I can say with the utmost confidence that it’s not. Why don’t we go to Coruscant? Or somewhere that… isn’t in Hutt Space and rampant with crime?”

SM-33 let out an exasperated huff of noise from his vents, head rearing in a pantomimed eye roll, “I wouldn’t be takin’ ya there if I didn’t think we could handle ourselves.”

“You might be able to handle yourself! I’m a Mark IV, I’m at a far higher risk of dismemberment than you are!”

“Aye, but you’ve survived for this long haven’t ya? You can handle it. You act like you don’t have balls when you’ve been rallying against the Empire without an organic through the entirety of the war!”

“That’s. Well, that’s different.”

“Is it?”

Huyang folded his arms, fingers tapping restlessly on his forearm. Finally he grunted, exasperated, and spoke, “Fine. Okay. But we’re not taking the Four Seven.”

SM-33 tilted is head, “It’s yer turn to drive.”

“I am not flying the Four Seven into Hutt space. If something happens to it, I’d have to explain quite a bit to Lady Tano.”

“Fine, fine. But yer drivin’ for the next two trips.”

Huyang had never been so anxious on a trip with the pirate. He felt ill just thinking about where they were going. And for a bar! A bar that SM-33 swore by? Surely, it must have some merit if the larger droid liked going there.

It didn’t soothe Huyang’s anxieties though. This was new ground for him to cover. He’d never been to a bar before, much less a bar dedicated to droids. Those were rare and far between in the galaxy, and even so, he never felt the need or desire to visit one. Between the Imperial War and keeping himself online over the years without the Order, he’d never really had the memory space to consider it.

When SM-33 had heard of Huyang’s lack of “fun” though, he immediately suggested it.

Huyang had entered a sort of power saving mode once they entered hyperspace and roused when SM-33 spoke from the pilot’s seat. “We’re here.”

Huyang sat straight with a creak of his aging joints and looked out the transparasteel. Nar Shaddaa floated before them, the amber moon’s atmosphere filled with gray smog and the cities sat on its surface brimming with lights.

It looked just as intense as Huyang recalled it in his databanks.

SM-33 flew down through the smog coated atmosphere, no atmospheric patrol calling their comms to ask them for their business to speak of. The Onyx Cinder soared down towards an industrialized section of the city. Huyang blinked as lights and flickering billboards blinded his photoreceptors momentarily before refocusing. The buildings were tall and stretched up to the smoke in the skies, made up of metal and covered in a wide variety of lights. The ship lanes were crowded with traffic, and the Onyx Cinder expertly carved through the crowd, going down, down, down.

The further down they went, the darker the city got. Natural light trickling through the smoke in the atmosphere diminished rapidly and soon, the only lights were the neons of billboards and signs.

The professor asked anxiously, “It’s here?”

“Aye. There’s a hangar down here ta park and then you walk the rest o’ the way.”

Huyang let out a tiny anxious noise from his vocoder and SM-33 sighed. “If yer so anxious, why don’t ya take out them lightswords?”

“I have them in my storage compartment.”

“Then there’s nothin’ ta worry about!”

SM-33 maneuvered the ship down towards a hangar that has certainly seen better days, figures staring up at them as the Cinder lowered itself down carefully like an organic settling into a warm bath. Several pit droids and old astromechs scrambled out of the way as the modified mint ship shimmied into the space.

“Are you sure it’s safe to park here?” Huyang asked, standing from his copilot seat to help switch off the power to the engines as SM-33 started locking up the cockpit.

“Aye, it’ll be fine. Jus’ need ta triple lock the maintenance hatches and landing gear ‘n’ we’re set.”

Huyang grunted, letting out some hot air from his vents. The older droid was happy for SM-33’s caution, relaxing a little more.

“Also,” SM-33 spoke up. “You definitely cannot wear that apron.”

Huyang blinked, looking down at it and looking back up at SM-33, “What? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, and I mean no, droid is wearin’ something like that in this district. That thing is way too expensive looking. Jus’ th’ belt, if you can. Remember, most these droids down here are pirates or thugs or whatever, not toy makers.”

Huyang huffed, “A lot of rules to this outing.”

“Lookin’ out for ya. I’ll wait outside for you, go put yourself together.”

SM-33 stood outside of the Onyx Cinder, a deathstick hanging out of his modded mouthguard as he waited for the professor. He saw the occasional repair jockie take a peak at him and the ship curiously, but quickly rushed away when SM-33 gave a warning with a whirring huff of smoke from his vents.

He perked up when he heard Huyang’s footsteps on the landing ramp and turned to look up at the architect.

Huyang was only in a leather belt, to his credit. Not only that, but it looked like he rubbed himself down in an oily rag to tone down his blue and white paint job. Artificially placed grime was pressed into the gaps between plates and stained the white of his torso and legs where it would conceivably gain the most wear and tear. SM-33 didn’t think he’d ever seen Huyang without some form of covering over his pelvis.

SM-33 whistled, slipping the deathstick out of his mod. “Well, well, well, who’s this pretty old thing?”

Huyang groaned, “Oh, sod off.” But SM-33 could hear the flustered puff of air that came from Huyang’s vents.

SM-33 raised the landing platform with his keys and made sure to lock down everything he conceivably could on the Cinder. He even locked the landing legs to the hangar to ensure someone couldn’t fly off with it.

Huyang watched, arms folded and feeling more than a little nude without his apron. SM-33 came back, stuffing keys and the keycard for the hangar locks into a storage compartment on his person.

“Alright! Ready ta go. C’mon ‘Yang, let’s get ya buzzed!”

Huyang mumbled, “I’d rather not be too intoxicated, thank you.”

“Ah, whatever ya wanna do. This is supposed ta be about ya feelin’ yerself! No organics, no base programming, jus’ you and whatever yer processor desires!”

Huyang let out a considering noise, and started when he noticed the pirate already hobbling off into the metal jungle of the droid slums. He jogged a few steps to keep up and fell in step with him, arms folded behind his back and his fingers tapping anxiously at his wrists.

SM-33 walked with large loping strides through the crowded streets of the industrialized district, Huyang practically stepping on his heels with how close he was staying to him. Every once in a while, the professor would reach forward to grace his fingers over SM-33’s arm, and he would slow down a little to let Huyang look around before they would proceed. SM-33 glanced at the older droid, who currently had his head on a swivel. It made sense, Thirty-Three had to admit. He was the same way when he first came here with his old crew.

Soon, work stations, repair shops, and upgrade stations started fading away into blacklight shops. Here, there was a little more organics than none at all. Being a pleasure droid made decent credits, especially for organics with… interests to say the least. Huyang was quick to avert his gaze, staring directly at the floor and Thirty-Three and his peds. SM-33 didn’t mind though. He gave a polite nod to the occasional flirtatious wave from a few robotic escorts and made a mental note to come back around without the professor to indulge himself.

He told himself he would be starting the older droid light.

Huyang asked, “This is it?”

“Aye.”

SM-33 and Huyang stood before a bar that was crowded all over. The proximity of the metallic bodies in the streets and against the walls speaking in binary to each other made his frame warm, to the point his inner fans kicked up. SM-33 shouldered his way through the crowd and into the bar, making a path for them both.

Huyang scuttled after him, head ducked to avoid eye contact with anyone unsavory. He froze up when they made it inside. The bar was dark and lit with flashing neon lights and filled with steam and smoke. There was a mingling of binary, Common, and Huttese fighting for dominance in the air, loud and clambering for attention in his audio receptors. His olfactory sensors picked up the cloying smell of oil, alcohol, nicotine, cleaning fluids, and a variety of other artificial products that a droid could conceivably be effected by. It was crowded inside too, but a little less chaotic. Droids sat on benches with each other, leaned against the walls, settled at the bar itself. He whipped his head away when he saw a couple of droids with their power sources plugged in and their interfacer spikes entwined.

“‘Yang? You good?”

Huyang looked up to SM-33. He had a hand placed on his shoulder, his head tilted slightly to the side as he seemed to be watching his photoreceptors for… discomfort? Panic?

"Yes," Huyang replied after a moment of small hesitation.

"We can head back if this ain't doing it fer ya."

"No, I'm okay. Come. You know this bar better than I do."

The professor took the lead, his skinny frame allowing him to shimmy through the organized chaos of metal bodies without disrupting droids in deep conversation or drinking or whatever else one did while here. SM-33 made his own path behind him, needing to shoulder a few hulls of metal with clinks and clanks as he moved.

When Huyang made it to the comparable calmness of the bar counter, he was faced with an overwhelming amount of choices once again. The service droid behind the counter looked up, and hummed curiously. "Well, don't we got a fancy one here," the service droid observed, one pair of hands reaching behind it to set cleaned glasses aside, the other pair supplying support as the bartender leaned forward on its elbows. "Hm. I've never seen you around before. Who-"

Before the bartender could even say another word, SM-33 was next to Huyang, wrapping an arm around Huyang's slim shoulders. Huyang let out a choked noise from his vocoder, and SM-33 cheerily greeted, "Fiftee-C! Been a while!"

The bartender straightened and let out a hearty laugh that had it's vocoder whining with static. "Thirty-Three! I thought you got dismantled out in that big galaxy!" It reached across the bar with one of its hands, and SM-33 clapped his own palm against it's in greeting. "Where've you been? I haven't seen you for… well, a long time!"

"Ah, y'know, pillagin', ransackin'… Eh, no more Rennod though."

"Figured as much. He's a legend I hear floating around every once in a while. Never heard anything about you, so I thought you'd crawl back up like the spider-roach you are."

50-C gestured at Huyang, "And I'm also guessing this one's yours. Who's this?"

Huyang cleared his throat, "I'm ah…"

SM-33 broke in, "Y4-N6. I call 'im Yang. He's not me crew, jus' a friend."

"A friend?" 50-C hummed, tilting his slim silver head. "Never took you for the type to like them skinny and chrome, Thirty-Three."

"Ah, not like that! Anyway, this is his first time. Need somethin' light to start us off."

"Mm, sure, I've got something in mind. What fluids can you take, N6?"

Huyang blinked his photoreceptors, "Oh, uh. Nepenthé, caf, alcohols, oil-"

"So, anything."

The professor stood stunned for a few moments before replying carefully, "I can't ingest beer, but I can spirits."

50-C nodded, silver torso spinning on its ball jointed spine to its selection of tonics behind the counter. "I can work with that! Oh, and here." A silver arm spun around behind the bent torso and held out two small durasteel sleeves. Huyang tilted his head, taking one while SM-33 took the other rather eagerly. "Jolt packs, on the house."

Huyang almost dropped the sleeve, "Jolt packs! Well, I- Thirty-Three!"

The pirate droid already had one of the thin circuit boards between his fingers, snaking a thin cord out from under his helm, "What? I told ya, we're here ta feel ourselves! And I haven't had a jolt pack in centuries."

The pirate pulled out a barstool, sitting down heavily with a grunt and plugging in. There was a buzz that sounded from the connection that had Huyang wincing, but SM-33 seemed more than pleased. "Ahh, there it is," SM-33's gruff voice was vibrating with excess electricity. His entire frame relaxed against the counter, head tilting and photoreceptor flickering.

Huyang sighed, sitting down next to the taller droid. 50-C looked up from filling some glasses with nepenthé, asking, "Do you need an adapter?"

"No, thank you."

50-C slid two glasses of nepenthé to the both of them, humming,

"There you are, nepenthé with a little bit of stimulant to spice it up. Holler if you need anything else."

"Thank you." Huyang quietly took the drink, looking down into the black liquid. He swirled it idly, jaw clicking against its pistons, before he lifted it to his faux mouth and took a sip.

SM-33 awakened while Huyang was nursing a half empty cocktail, the glass he had used for the nepenthé already handed off to 50-C. SM-33 straightened with a creak of his joints, groaning, "Ah, that's a lot better. What'd I miss?"

Huyang replied, "Not much. Your nepenthé is getting warm."

SM-33 tilted his head, his pistons slightly overextending. "Oof. Aye, I forgot about that… Hey! Ya already ordered somethin' else?"

Huyang's photoreceptors side eyed him, as he replied, "You overcharged, I'm not waiting on you to continue with this… learning experience? I suppose its a learning experience."

"Wellll, what'd ya get?"

"… Don't laugh," Huyang started, turning in his stool for face him. "It's a Takodana Quencher."

SM-33 did laugh. It was a startled sort of noise, a loud guffaw that had 33's vents huffing with the force of it.

"I said don't laugh!"

"'Yang, that's just a real fancy fruit drink! I'll order us somethin' stronger when I finish my nepenthé."

Huyang bemoaned, "What will that do to my poor processor?"

"Ah, you'll be fine! Ya ain't made of transparasteel!"

"I have a large amount of archival information in my database that isn't found anywhere else in the galaxy. That is most definitely something that fragile."

"Then don't take processor washers or virus clips! Simple as that."

Huyang grunted, thumbing his arm for few moments. Finally he admitted, "There is a rather pleasant buzz happening in my central processing unit."

SM-33 beamed. "See! That's th' spirit! Let's get karked!"

"Not that inebriated. We still need to fly back to the hangar on Lothal."

SM-33 chuckled, "Oh please, I can fly ta Lothal with me photoreceptors shot."

SM-33 snaked out his waste pipe and slipped it into the glass of nepenthé. "Maybe I can talk ya inta tryin' a jolt pack."

"Don't get your hopes up."

SM-33 had learned several things about the older droid over their friendship. One: Huyang was definitely not as innocent as SM-33 thought he was. He had proved that over and over again the more he talked to the professor. Second: Huyang was capable of bantering with him, almost on par with Rennod if he shut off his visual receptors and thought very hard. Third: Huyang was tougher than he looked. And finally: Professor Huyang was the lightest weight he had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

SM-33 could throw it up to Huyang being a drink ahead of him, but that cocktail he had before he woke up from his system reboot was more fruit juice and pop than alcohol. Music had started playing in the bar by now, other than the thrum of aesthetic acoustic and the background of mingling languages. Huyang was listing to the left directly into SM-33's side, one hand gesturing wildly as he spoke and the other occupied by an empty glass that was coming far too close to SM-33's face as the professor gesticulated.

"And I mean, honestly!" the professor shouted, vocoder warbling. "It feels like those organics never listen to me anyway! Why do I even bother trying to give them a lick of advice if they're just gonna, uhh, krik it all up! Shove that wisdom right up my aft I suppose!" Huyang set aside his glass with a clink of finality on the bar counter, groaning, "I swear to… to the Force! And all that is above, Lady Tano is just traveling with me to make me suffer. Or maybe I agreed because I'm a- a… masochist! I'm a masochist. I just love torturing myself and seeing how far I can get without getting completely demolished!"

Huyang's photoreceptors stuttered, digital eyelids flickering at a disjointed timing and SM-33 broke in, "Aye, I hear ya. Organics, annoying little kriffers."

"No!" Huyang roared, and that had SM-33 blinking in surprise. "That's not what I… I mean! They're so…! I love them! I love Lady Tano!"

SM-33 tilted his head, "… Thought she was like… a child ta ya?"

Huyang paused, processing before he shouted, mortified, "That's not what I meant! She… She's my student…! She's my student, my last student! The last student I'll ever-!" Huyang's voice hiccuped. His photoreceptors flickered, narrowed, drooped, and then he dropped his helm into his palms. "S-She's my last student! She's the only student I have left! If something were to happen to her… I don't know what I'd do! I have to keep her safe! But she never listens to me!"

SM-33 sat awkwardly next to Huyang as his voice broke like a dry twig underfoot, and pitiful simulated sobs leaked out of him as his vents huffed and puffed with his overwrought emotions.

He didn't know what to do. SM-33 was a pirate. He wasn't good at comfort. He was good at encouraging people to run from their problems, good at distraction, good at banter, good at pillaging, singing, carousing. But he wasn't good at comfort. He looked up helplessly, looking around for something to guide him. Huyang was the one that was good at this, not him. 50-C had turned to look at the commotion and made eye contact with the pirate. SM-33 could see the bartender's wince from where he sat.

A pathetic shuttering from Huyang's vents was what called SM-33's attention back to him. "Stars, 'Yang. C'mon, it's alright… Ya can't even leak, no need ta waste battery on this, heh. Eh…"

He wasn't sure if Huyang heard him and that made it worse, or if the professor was stuck in his own processor, but his shaking grew minutely stronger.

This was not what SM-33 had in mind for their night out. He wanted to make the older droid loosen up, not make him cry.

SM-33 spoke, voice a little louder, "Huyang. Hey. I don't… 'M not… Ya need ta tell me what ya need. What do ya want me ta do? Do ya wanna go back to th' Cinder? Back ta Lothal? Is that what ya need?"

The professor shook his head, fingers tapping anxiously at his helm. "No, no, I don't… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make your trip so bad, I…"

"Ya didn't make no trip bad, 'Yang. I wanted ta take ya here. 'Tis our trip, not mine. Tell me what ya need, 'nd we'll do it."

Huyang let out a simulated sniffle. "I don't want to leave."

"Do ya need a hug?" SM-33 did not know where that came from. Maybe it was from spending so much time around the kiddies, recognizing their need for physical affection while taking care of them as they flew around, looking for At Attin. Maybe it was from taking care of the rat stuck in his eye, or watching the kids reunite with their parents after everyone managed to come out of the pirate invasion mostly unscathed.

Wherever it came from, it turned out to be the right thing to say. Huyang's vents huffed, his vocoder let out a tiny noise. Then the droid's listing became more intentional, shifting to get closer to SM-33's chassis. SM-33 carefully circled his arms around the leaner body next to him and Huyang buried his faceplate into his shoulder. The positioning was awkward, SM-33's embrace was unsure, and Huyang was more laying in SM-33's arms than hugging back. It wasn't perfect. But it was enough.

SM-33's thumb rubbed circles into Huyang's armor, smudging his intentional weathering job. "There, there, 'Yang. I've got ya." He tightened his hug when he felt the architect's plates shake. "I've got ya, 'Yang. Yer safe."

SM-33 held Huyang for what felt like a millennium. He only loosened his hold when SM-33 couldn't hear Huyang's vents puffing against his hands.

He leaned back, holding Huyang's shoulders to keep him upright, "You alright now, 'Yang?"

Huyang rubbed at his photoreceptors, obviously an unconscious mimicking tic, "Yes. I'm okay now. I'm sorry, I-"

"Stop sayin' that, old man. No need for you ta be sorry. I think I got ya too pumped full of alcohol."

Huyang chuckled. "I'm afraid I, uh, can't hold my liquor."

"Tis alright."

SM-33 looked up, finally aware of the music in the bar. SM-33 stood, bringing Huyang with him. Huyang let out a startled, questioning noise, and of course he stumbled on his unsteady feet. "C'mon, no more mopin'! Ya ever danced before, 'Yang?"

Huyang stuttered, "I, uh, no. Read about-"

"Readin' ain't the same as doin' it!" SM-33 practically dragged the stumbling architect into a more open space of the bar, where there were already droids gathering to dance or mill about. "C'mon, follow me lead!"

As expected, Huyang was not good at dancing, especially while inebriated. He moved like he had been manufactured with two left feet. Although, Huyang was of the opinion that SM-33 wasn't either. All he knew were pirate jigs, and therefore all he did were those, even if it didn't match the genre of the song. It made Huyang laugh far more than it probably would've if he was sober. Huyang attempted to at least match the genre to the movements, even if it made him look silly.

The goal of the trip was to feel himself, right? It was to be free, something that Huyang and SM-33 couldn't be, at least not really or legally.

But they could pretend for tonight.

Huyang could pretend that he wasn't a lightsaber architect left behind by time and SM-33 could pretend he wasn't a pirate droid without a crew and an illusionary future.

Huyang watched SM-33 as he tried to match his steps, awkward and loping as he was between his bulky frame and his peg leg. If he was organic, he would grin. Instead his photoreceptors narrowed in a pantomimed smile. They were so close, Huyang could feel SM-33's puffing vents and pneumatics on his armor and joints.

Perhaps it was the liquid courage sloshing around in the droid's wastebucket and coursing through his circuits. Perhaps it was being caught up in a beautiful lie like this, that they could dance and be more than they were designed to be. Perhaps it was something more.

Whatever it was, Huyang took a step closer, directly into SM-33's space, grabbed the pirate droid by the wires extending from the back of his head, leaned up on his ped's toes and pressed his forehead against his and clacked his faux mouth against 33's grill.

There was a shock of static electricity between their face plates, and it made Huyang jump, but he didn't let go. In fact, he pressed closer. SM-33 let out a tiny startled grunt, but otherwise leaned with him. The grunt morphed into a growl that vibrated his grill and Huyang's vents huffed in response. Huyang released him after a few moments, but it felt like they had been entwined for hours.

They stared at each other, SM-33's single photoreceptor gazing at the older droid in shock. They stood like two statues in the middle of the dance floor, before SM-33 took Huyang's hands.

And they continued to dance.

The walk back to the Cinder was uneventful. Huyang leaned more on SM-33 as they walked, giggly and talkative as ever. He gestured wide and broad as he told SM-33 stories of the galaxy that he thought he would like. 33 was more than eager to trade, telling Huyang about his tales of plunder and scavenging. The alcohol made both of the droid's vocoders looser than usual. Huyang told 33 about his time as a Rebellion spy, stories that even Ahsoka didn't know and 33 talked about Rennod and the old crew of the Onyx Cinder.

Unlocking the Onyx Cinder was difficult. Between the two of them, they barely had the dexterity to undo all the locks on the ship. Huyang collapsed from laughter when SM-33 tried to tug off the stuck hangar lock after undoing it with his keycard and fell down when it popped off with a thoonk.

By the time they clambered back onto the ship and Huyang had settled into the copilot seat, SM-33 announced, "Ready for takeoff! All settled, 'Yang?”

"Aye aye, Smee," Huyang called back drowsily.

They flew out of Nar Shaddaa the same way they had come, and soon had entered hyperspace to get to Lothal. SM-33 stood, flicking on autopilot and ensuring the Cinder was on course before he turned back to Huyang who was staring at the colors flashing past in the viewport.

"Do ya need help with that oil smudging yer armor?"

"Hm?" Huyang flicked his gaze away, and looked up at SM-33. "I think it quite suits me, don't you?"

SM-33 chuckled, "Aye, it do, but unfortunately, you like keepin' up appearances fer yer Lady Tano."

Huyang grunted, slowly standing from the copilot seat. He stumbled a step or two, but then regained his balance and dragged himself over while holding the wall. "I don't think I need help… Where's your sonic?"

"Here, I'll show ya."

Huyang did need a little help undoing the utility belt and reattaching it to his apron, but otherwise, he cleaned up rather nicely. SM-33 had to admit, it was impressive considering the droid was very much sloshed.

By the time he crawled back to the cockpit where 33 waited, he was back to his old chrome self with the apron strapped around his waist and hiding his pelvic plates. 33 had to admit, he would miss seeing them.

"You okay ta get back ta the '74?" SM-33 asked Huyang once they landed in the hangar where the T-6 was parked. Unfortunately, the T-6 was just in another hangar suite.

"Yes, I'll be fine," Huyang unsteadily stood, and paused. "Thank you. For taking me to the bar tonight. I had fun."

33 nodded, "'Course. 'Nd we can go again whenever ya want."

Huyang hummed, photoreceptors lidding, "I'd like that."

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