This isn't exactly a plan, per se, but it's a lot better than just sitting here.
I've spent most of today and some of yesterday with as many broken robots and blasters as I can. As you might imagine, this is an activity with a high chance of getting myself killed, as not all robots who appear to be disabled actually are, and not all blasters which seem salvageable are stable enough not to explode in reaction to such unexpected stimuli as being looked at. Still, I've managed a lot of parts.
The science of personal shielding is a long and boring one, and if I weren't having to type this out on my increasingly annoying pad I'd go into more detail just to give you more work to do. As it is, I'll say that I'm making hacked-up FAST units out of spare blaster parts and remind you, when you ask me how the hell that makes any sense whatsoever, that all blasters really do is project small force fields very quickly.
Okay, fine, I'll assume you haven't been through military field training (as unlikely as that is) and mention that FAST units are personal force fields. But that's all the explaining I'm going to do right now. I'm on a bit of a compressed schedule at the moment; I've got a number of these things to build and test, after all. They're both hacked together and made from old salvaged parts. I'm not sure they'll work at all or, if they do, whether they'll take a full blaster bolt worth of fire. They're fairly useless to me if they don't, as even a tenth of a blaster from the bots will be enough to put me in my place for a rather permanent time, but even if that's the case, I'll just hack ten of them together. There's no end of spare parts; the ship's even more decrepit than I thought. The deep-sleep chambers, the docking bay, and the central chamber were apparently the only parts really designed to stand the test of time - the further I've gone exploring, the more run-down I find the place to be. Every bridge-like area is guarded, however, and the decrepitude of the robots guarding them is made up for by their sheer numbers. I've yet to encounter any vengeful robotic search parties, though, so at least they weren't making a coordinated effort to find me.
My mind went back to the deep-sleep chambers. Now there's an idea... if I could thaw out one of the passengers, chances were good - in my mind at least - that they'd be able to call the rest of the ship off. I'd merely claim that I'd docked because I needed supplies. This was true, though I felt it would be prudent to leave out the parts where I tried to steal their most precious cultural artifact. Still, it was a better plan than going into the cargo bay guns blazing.
--
No, it wasn't a better plan.
My translator could make only rudimentary sense of the readouts and controls for the deep-sleep chambers, which should have been my first indication of things to go wrong. I stubbornly refused to let that enter my mind, though. Instead, I picked out a likely candidate from one of the chambers and woke him up. I'd been looking for bridge crew or engineering people, but none of the readouts indicated anyone of the sort, so eventually I just chose one of the people nearest a repaired sector.
The waking process from dark-sleep is slow. I began it and had time to get a few working FAST units assembled before my patient was awake. I discreetly attached and activated them. I wasn't optimistic enough to completely trust my new friend.
The waker blinked a few times, regarding me blankly as his brain activity was slowly brought up to normal. At least, I thought it was a blank look; it's nearly impossible to tell what looks mean on faces that aren't those of your native species. When finally the process was complete, he stepped forward from the now empty chamber and looked around the bay. He then turned to me.
"Qnttzfln oorn nnnnnn ym yn yu qlnrn" he said.
My translator was silent.
This did not mean, however, that it didn't provide feedback. A tiny green light on the side beamed happily into existence. That's exactly what it was supposed to be; that particular light is known universe-wide as "The Happy Little Green Light". The manufacturers of the translators, you see, had long since had a policy of handsomely rewarding anyone who got that button to light up, and so far nearly nobody had.
It meant, quite simply, "You've discovered a new language!"
It wasn't quite the happy occasion right now, however, as it meant I couldn't talk to the being I'd rather rudely awakened and my chances of staying alive were dwindling rapidly. If I ever got back to civilized space, I'd earn myself a small fortune for turning over my translator box, but in order to realize that increasingly far off payday, I was going to have to first not be vaporized.
Oorn, as I'd mentally dubbed my new alien friend, was not seeming likely to help in that matter. Despite the fact that I showed absolutely no ability to understand him, he continued to talk to me. The translator was not being helpful at all when it pointed out that there were harmonics to his voice that I was incapable of hearing. Oorn was getting increasingly agitated, or so I guessed from the rising volume of his voice. Louder and faster speech was hardly ever a good sign.
I'd been keeping relatively quiet despite my silent hope that the robots were not actively looking for me. Apparently this had been the right thing to do, as a loud clanking and a quieter alarm from my panel told me that a pair were on their way to investigate the noise my partner was making. I decided to cut my losses and get out of there, but the instant I tried to leave Oorn reached out and grabbed my arm.
His grip was like iron; he was easily bigger than the security robots and while he was incapable of being as strong, he was more then enough to stop me from going anywhere. The FAST units at my hip started heating up as they attempted to figure out a way to dispel or redirect the energy but they were likely to simply burn themselves out first.
The robots entered the room and, without hesitation, turned toward us, drew their blasters in unison, and shot.
The ancient hacked-up personal shielding units I'd created with my blaster as a soldering iron and a few months of long-forgotten military training received decades ago, surprisingly enough, took the blast and dissipated it entirely before shorting out and burning my hip. Oorn, as he did not possess such a unit, was vaporized. So much for my theory that a native could reason with them.
I drew my blaster, shaking with the knowledge that only one of the dodgy personal shields was now working, and it was beginning to burn into my side as well. It likely wouldn't absorb an entire hit, and I'd be maimed and/or killed. Still, I had time enough to get a shot off before that happened.
I destroyed the robot on the right. Then, as I was apparently not yet dead, I destroyed the other robot.
Neither of them had fired a volley beyond the first. I'd have stopped to consider this - and steal their blasters - had not reinforcements been almost certainly on the way. Instead, I got the hell out of there. I did, however, have a new plan.