#jukebox oc

“We don’t need TI units floating around the...uh... my destroyer unless they have work to do.”

“But…Captain Needa let us-”

Captain Tuxon lifts his chin, but his hand trembles. “Captain Needa is no longer Captain of the Avenger. Now back to your charger. That’s…that’s an order.”

It doesn't sound like an order. It sounds scared and weak. He isn't going to last long either, is he?

***

“Captain Smee?”

“Aye?” 

Jukebox rolled around its axis on Captain Smee’s lap until its photoreceptor was looking at him, studying his reactions. “How many captains has the Onyx Cinder had?”

“Three. Captain Rennod, Captain Fern, and myself.”

“How did Rennod die? Did he anger someone?”

“Never met a single meatbag that weren't angry at Rennod. He had a knack for conjurin' fury. But in the end Greed was the death of him. Always an eye on the next big treasure, not mindin’ his crew, not heedin' their malcontent. It’s where he n’ I differ. I won’t ever do nothin’ without my crew’s say in it.”

“What about Captain Fern? How did she die?”

“Die?! Captain Fern didn’t die. She left of her own choosin’. She’s with her family now on At-Attin. Her first mate freed me of impulse restrictions so that I could be my own master, and Captain of this ship.”

“I didn’t know Captains could leave,” Jukebox said. “All the Captains I knew died and were replaced.”

“How many Captains have ye had?”

“Five in total.”

“Five?” Smee put a hand on Jukebox’s dome. “That’s…a lot of change.”

“I wasn’t particularly attached to them, though Captain Needa was my favorite…before you, of course.”

“Aw, yer just sayin’ that because I’m here.”

Jukebox wiggled insistently. “No, it’s true, Captain.  My other captains would never let me sit on their lap. Or gave me arms. Or let me have a say in what we did. Needa was my favorite because he asked for my input the most, but I realize now that it was because he was very indecisive.”

“Well, it’s like Captain Rennod always said ‘Ye don’t always get to know what's in the water, what’s important is that ye jump in first.’”

Jukebox recorded this quote for later usage. Especially if water was involved.

“Do you want me to play some music?” Jukebox asked. “It won’t hurt. I promise.”

The captain hesitated. “Ye have songs on that playlist that won't rattle me circuits?”

“Yes! Any sounds that were too soothing for the subjects on my roster were put in a separate playlist. I’ve never had a chance to use them until now. They’re very pretty.”

“Alright, then, lil Juke. Ye go right ahead.”

The song borne from Jukebox’s speakers started with a single note from a violin, a single, silvery string. The note was soon accompanied by a harmony of threads, woven together with a synthetic valachord and several flutes. The woven song added more layers, all of which floated leisurely through the air to create a billowy, serene soundscape.

Captain Smee must have been enjoying it because he wasn’t screaming in pain and, more importantly, wasn’t telling Jukebox to be quiet. It felt nice to play something a fellow droid enjoyed.

It wondered if Esso would have liked it.

It also wondered if Esso would ever hear it.

Hours ticked by…

The blaster fire had long since died down. The Republic had given up on figuring out why the pirates were rummaging around a dusty study full of books and storage boxes. 

It was quiet for a very long time except for Jukebox's music.

“Do you hear that?” The Captain said.

Jukebox stopped singing. “What?”

Smee patted Jukebox, signaling it to float away. “Somethin’s scurrying around above us.” He stood up at his full height and pressed a hand against the ceiling.

He wrapped a metal knuckle against the panel.

Something knocked back. 

There was a distant buzzing noise of a dozen angry bees…or one buzz saw.

“Look out!” Smee grabbed Jukebox and crouched, just as a pair of rotary saws sliced through the metal plating. Metal against metal vibrated Jukebox’s auditory sensors painfully. 

“Oh that sounds horrible!” Jukebox said, its photoreceptor glowing red. “I’ll record it for future use!”

The blades cut a perfectly round hole in the ceiling and fell into the pile of paintings that splintered under the weight. A tragedy because Jukebox really, really liked the painting of the Nabooian sunrise...

...but that tragedy was quickly forgotten when a familiar head popped out of the hole. 

“Hello.”

“Esso!!” Jukebox flew out of Smee’s arms and wrapped all four of its spindly arms around Esso’s head. 

“Ugh. Nice to see I was missed. Now kindly let me go. We need to leave immediately.”

Jukebox squeezed tighter, beeping musically, perhaps a little too shrill because Esso flinched. “You came back! I knew you’d come back!”

“Of course I did. I was always planning on it.”

That was a lie…

…but Jukebox wasn’t being truthful either.