His first mission, as a Company-employed android, attached to a practically legendary crew of Bounty Hunters. And Isa was, so far, spending most of it stacking crates - reorganizing the hold, to make room for all those weapons they were, supposedly, going to seize. Somebody had to rationalize their frankly horrific so-called storage system, down here; somebody who obviously had nothing better to do. Which was, of course, what he did his very best to project whenever any of his crewmates came along.
Such as the moment at hand, when he shifted precisely four hundred and twenty four pounds of spare fittings, rattling around in a lockbox of questionable structural integrity, to find somebody on the other side. âGood morning,â Isa began, in that politely guileless tone heâd selected, back in that bloody garage; the basic vocal program. Not too imposing, nor too interesting. Not enough of anything, really, to draw any attention whatsoever. Or so he hoped. âDo you require my assistance, at this time?â
