FORESIGHT and SCOPE: BOOK TWO

C H A P T E R S I X T E E N

THIRD PERSON POV

"Your ringer is a droid?" Tech inquired with a head tilt to Cid.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. You have a problem with droids, human?" Tay-0, as the clones have come to learn, measured up the intellectual clone. The tall, racing droid resembled a humanoid, with two arms and legs, and five-fingered hands. His head had three teal photoreceptor's in the locations of points of a triangle, with a speaking mechanism under them. His head had the ability of spinning 360 degrees to see behind himself without having to turn his body around. It was debatable whether his conceited personality was part of his programming or not. "You think you can make the split-second calculation to win out there? You want to challenge Tay-0?!"

"I do not have enough information about this sport to determine that at this time." Tech responded with confidence.

"At this time," Fern muttered with a smirk. No one seemed to catch it as the arrogant droid slapped a hand on Tech's chestplate and spat, "Then, take, a seat, Spectacled-Spectator."

"Ha! Spectacled-Spectator!" Wrecker playfully pushed on the intellectual clone's shoulder.

Even Fern snorted into her hand. Tech eyed her with concern. "I hope you are not considering adding this moniker to your already-repleted reservoir."

"Of course, not." Fern scrunched her nose up at him. She then reached her fingers to his face and delicately flicked the center of his goggles with a cheeky grin. "Tick."

"Alright, alright, save it for the course!" Cid waved her arms at her ringer, who nonchalantly strolled away, praising himself and boasting how he was going to win the next race and the one after that. Everyone was ordered by the boss to push the 12-series speeder into the garage and to operate any maintenance required before the next event. Fern and Omega worked on tightening any wires and checking if the systems are functioning, while Tay-0 rerouted any necessary power.

"I'm shocked you can even win in a speeder like this." Fern sighed, wiping her sweating forehead. It was incredibly stuffy with the heat filtering inside and outside the warehouse. "Even with these, I'll admit, decent modifications, there's no way you can go as fast as you need to go to win a race. Durability is completely imbalanced as well with this hunk of a weapon's system."

"And yet, Tay-0 still manages to win." The droid slurred his comeback.

"Well, yeah," Fern rolled her eyes. "That's because I'm assuming everyone else's speeder is in the same condition. You are all on, in short, an even playing field. What I guess allows one to win is strat—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Human," Tay-0 mocked her with a chit-chat gesture. "You are so observant to point out the obvious. What you failed to notice is that MY modifications are the best."

"It was a good observation, Fern." Tech pointed, studying the mechanics and body of the speeder from afar, his hand rested on his chin. Tay-0 whipped his head interchangably between the intellectual clone and Fern and was about to make an indication when a deep, mellow voice resonated in the garage.

"Ciddarin Scaleback."

Everyone raised their heads to the wide entrance and beheld a towering male Dowutin with burnt-orange skin and yellow eyes. He was accompanied by three other nasty-looking individuals, all armed with blasters. Fern glanced over to Cid and noticed the nervous expression on the boss' face.

"It's been a long time since I've seen your shiny claws around Safa Toma." The Dowutin stood proud, chest puffed, and his hands folded behind his back.

"Millegi," Cid put on her tough mask, crossing her arms to put a barrier between her and the friendly visitor. "I'm busy. Get out of my pit." Instead, Millegi strutted over to where Omega and Fern stood, and was immediately confronted with Tech and Wrecker. In her peripheral vision, Fern caught the movement of Tech's finger brushing over his blaster — she subtly reached over and dropped his hand. She didn't need to make eye contact for him to get her message. At the same time, she used her other hand to protectively bring back the young girl by her shoulder.