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The making of a Shard- Part 1/X

The room was white sterile, but sometimes the green cortex of the machine mixed with the black oil would seep from time to time in a pattern reminiscent of the brain pathways, the neo cortex and the frontal lobe.


In the middle of the room there was a pool of a strange, uncanny orange liquid. It seemed to be electrically charged, crackling with sparks here and there. A large pool, deep where one could get lost inside of. Many machineries acted with steely hands inside of it, cables moving on its own, plugs wanting to connect somewhere. The electrical current inside the orange conductive liquid guided everything inside it to connect itself to somewhere, it was the message, the intelligence inside the lightning. The magnet had to connect with the steel, and for every plug there was a socket waiting for it.


The mechanical body on the deepest chasm of the pool was of Lisan. A slender metallic body covered completely in that liquid, in order to get rid of the rust and the wear and tear of time, being immersed inside that rejuvenating liquid was a necessary step in the monthly maintenance of the droid. Now without skin, with cables and other appendages crawling and swimming towards it, connecting themselves on every crevice and slid and opening and socket inside Lisan. A multitude of tentacles overwhelmed the body, sending the intelligence and the message it contained inside the body.


It contorted as if were alive, opening its jaw and maybe, perhaps, wanting to talk, moving the empty place where its arm should be and having some sort of unknown body language indicating it wanted to move legs it did not had.


The tentacles were many, hundreds of them, insulated cables that connected the body to some sort of machine on the exterior that constantly whipped the body with that same electricity, electrifying not the computer components of the droid, but the hardware and chassis, electrolysis to reinvigorate it.


Then the cables started to drag the body into a new part of the pool.


More machines, now them being claws, reassembled the missing limbs of the body. One by one, as it started to resemble something less sad than a limbless potato that it was before.


It had no eyes, no facial features. Nothing that could resemble a human for maybe the skeleton, everything was hand crafted to resemble someone without skin.
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The orange liquid now started to change into a green color, as the cables dragged the body into another zone of the facility, where through a window scientists cladded in green and black made notations on the process, watching and controlling the levers and sensors of the delicate process.


The orange liquid, after being replaced in the pool, still lingered on stuck in the chassis, and the green unknown agent started to react to it, mixing and matching like opposite forces making love and making war in order to create something new, chemicals starts to break down and die, then the waste of the breakdown caused other chan reaction of a terrible large complexity that only those scientists could comprehend with the aid of machines, ending ina chain reaction that created a layer of meat and skin attached to the chassis.


A layer of cloned skin that, due to the electrical palpitations of Lisan, would feel real and would attach itself without need for hooks of some sort. Hair, long and brunette. Photoreceptors that were meant to look like real eyes, a fake nose, and the wear and tear of age and life in general making small imperfections on the skin like ripples and acne, some melasma and birthmarks that could identify a being. Even fake genitals and nipples for the breasts, something Lisan never would consider except for the fact that, as royalty in Hapan, she would be expected to be bathed by royal handmaidens.


By the end of the hours-long process, the body was covered in a white silk miasma as the waste of the new cells being grown. The body was launched into a bath of white frigid water, peeling the waste product out of the new body. Letting everything be bathed in the cold waters, Lisan hugged herself, feeling the temperature. She had, after all this time, pretended to feel cold and hot, but somewhere along the way, those sensations became real for her, and now she lived as a flower of the mountain in the sensual world, a world of pure sensations of the mind, being guided by the five senses. So she touched herself to feel the new skin, and smelled the water, felt her hair and washing it by caressing it to feel the fingers thru the hair.



Then, the body started to move again. Climbing up, pushed by a disc shaped elevator. The water escaped into some small crevices like those of the brain pathways, again, while a powerful hot wind started to dry Lisan.


She opened the mouth, the electrochemicals of the droid body, like oil and break liquid were used to replace the smell of the human breath to appear more human. She washed and dried her hair along the wind, loving that sensation of the hand feeling the newly washed hair while the buzzing of the machine sent a never ending gust of the Korriban desert wind to her, making her feel at home under the red sun.


The windows opened, the sun was setting yet it was still bleeding red on the Sith Holy World. The streets were busy with siths and acolytes alike, only believers were permitted inside the holy tomb world of Korriban, a mix of an ecumenopolis, cathedral and tomb for dark lords. That was because in his might, Lord Dreadwar never created a tomb for himself, and his temple started to grow in size, growing and growing until it uncaringly ate the other tombs and the other temples, and the other cities and the other continents, creating an ecumenopolis with a center of gravity firmly pressed in the temple of the one true god of the Sith.

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Naked, Lisan went into the courtyard, wondering if she could wear a sunset like a dress.


But by the time people could see her she covered herself with some illusions of the perfect clothing for someone in her position. She actually did not knew what those dresses were because they were made from a mix of telepathy and illusions, transplanting the ideal dress from the mind of the people gazing at her and then constructing the illusion based upon that.


Then, a small trip to the red desert of Korriban. An airspeed took her there in no time. She knew how it was, red and vast, a cacophony of sounds hit her “eardrums”, the mix of the airspeeder noises and the winds roaring. Yes, she did had actual clothes there. A proper Tusken would cover herself in the deep desert with the thickness of robes, albeit sith color coded desert robes.


Stepping outside of the speeder, Lisan ventured into the desert. Losing herself to the wasteland of heat and wind. So much heat that you could cook an egg with enough time and patience, and so terrible winds that they could skin a man alive. The red sands in her feet felt extremely hot and she loved that sensation, almost relaxing. Leaving herself to fall from a high dune, playing almost like a child.

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When she finally ended her toboggan fall, she knew she was in the right place. And started to dig a bit. Using TK she removed sand from the right place, uncovering a secret tunnel behind a metal door like inside a bunker.


She covered the door with sand, secret in a random part of the vast deserted wasteland on the scorching Korriban red sands.


The cave was small, full of weapons and explosives stored in boxes. It was Lisan´s private war cache. With her own Enigma Machine to speak with the rest of the Inquisitorium she started to decode the message that Lord Catalyst made some intern leave for her, for her mission as an Inquisitor. With a diadem microphone she started to speak in binary, unlocking the secret codes to her call.


She listened to everything, nodding while remembering the information, storing it in some part of the brain. Then, nonchalantly she hanged the microphone on top of the enigma machine.


She started to play with her thumbs fast, inhumanly so. Her cheeks were red ruby, not because of blood vessels but more likely because of some sort of heat under the skin on the chassis.


-AAAAAAAAAAA- Lisan said, clearly nervous.-AAAAAAAAAAA- Rubbing her hands faster and faster.


Lisan composed herself, finding her center of balance and letting go of her fear. Then she thought to herself if such a thing was some sort of heretical chanting. But, ignoring that small lapse in judgment Lisan finally composed herself like the Sith Master she was. She called and called the Dreadwar troops, enlisting the help of a bunch of zombies to pack her things on her personal flagship to leave Korriban for her next mission.

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She came back to a Korriban Hangar, her ship on the drydock, the kilometer long Jihad of Apollyon, a literal giant wasp that had been carved hollow, with a chitinous exterior reinforced with the best durasteel of the Empire. And then, she crossed the threshold to enter the ship, murmuring to herself along the way that: -I never met a Jedi in my entire life. This is my first time trying to kill one.-​
 

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