Grey Factories in a Grey Landscape

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Graeme, a freelance smuggler that goes where the cash flows, is about to head off on a journey to pay back his loan to the local crime syndicate, when a particular stallion shows up and states he must do otherwise.

Based during one of the greatest ages in Star Wars lore; Knights of The Old Republic.

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His steel-capped boots were the only things to hear in the hallway, other than the rain's white noise that everyone would've been silently rejoicing in. He scuffed his way down to his apartment for a final pit stop to gather the last of his belongings, passing a Quarren whom he politely tipped an imaginary hat to, receiving a slight bow from the alien in response.

Sliding his key-card through the appropriate security panel, the door to his apartment slid into the ceiling to reveal a hollow, dimly lit room, with the furniture & walls illuminated solely by the incoming sunshine peeking through the clouds. He hesitated to pick up the pair of remaining boxes, his hands brushing against their lids affectionately, & instead he decided to walk out onto the balcony one last time. Just one last time. The shining cityscape distracted him from the chilling downpour, letting a contented sigh escape as vapour through his smirk.

"Leaving so soon, Grae'?"

A smooth voice from inside his apartment asked, & it didn't take him a genius to realise who it was.

"You know me," he replied, without the need to turn around & face his Equestrian comrade "'galaxy ain't gonna explore itself. I'm just packing up the last of my place before shooting off to god knows where." He made a soaring gesture with his hand to show what he meant.

"Well, I'm afraid that is going to have to wait a while." The pony stated, a hint of remorse in his voice as he slowly rummaged through his bag.

Graeme already knew why the horse was here & announced a loud, tired groan that echoed through the apartment, the human slid down the railing's lubricated surface like a whiny child, landing with a thud on the balcony's paved surface. "Postal, mate, why do you always get straight to the point? Do I really need to send those stupid messages? Does he ever think about my needs & wants?" He mewled.

"I haven't given you a letter in months." The grey pony rebuttled. "Besides, my Overseer told me that it isn't a simple memorandum of any kind this time." Pulling a crisp envelope from his bag, it was instantly snatched from the pony's grasp. As Graeme tore the envelope open & skimmed through the letter, an unimpressed expression soon followed that was almost painful to look at.

"Really? Your guy is making me look after one of his little…" he winced "explorers? He knows how I feel about babysitting & they always ask me personal questions I get uncomfortable with!"

"He did tell me that all you need to do is lead it through a certain dimension for Him. Other than that," he shrugged "I know practically nothing."

"Why doesn't he just poof it into existence where he wants it to be, rather than waste my time? Or why not make you take it, seeing how you literally have all the time in the world?"

Postal gave him a deadpan stare "Come on, you're making excuses, you know clear as day that I can only send messages to specific people to distribute," Postal crossed his chest with a hoof "it's against my oath to directly aid anyone or-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," He interrupted, waving his hand about "Thank you for the refresher, 'mum', but I can't keep running around with these errands whenever he wants me to. I've just got an offer by the Mandalorians to do a couple spice runs for them & I need the moolah they're offering."

Postal pulled a map out of his satchel & laid it on a dry part of the ground ignoring Graeme's plea. It was covered with a multitude of small circles interconnected with lines, like a cobweb. A long line ran from a circle at the edge of the map in a path along other circles towards one he pointed to; a circle marked with an 'X'.

"This is the where you need to be, it's just a little detour away from where you are now & you'll only have to look after it for a couple days at most" He pointed at another circle that stood out, also marked with an 'X'.

"The letter says that it's a recently post-nuclear-fallout dimension!" Graeme exploded, pointing at a sentence on the letter that confirmed what he was saying.

"Well, bring a radiation suit, what are you complaining so much about?"

Graeme wiped his hands through his thick hair & down his face, waiting for his stress levels to lower "This isn't about the job, it's about me. I need money because if I don't pay back of my loan from the Exchange then the next time you'll see me will be on a wanted poster. I'm hanging on by the skin of a tooth! You savvy?"

The unimpressed creases on the stallion's forehead slowly died down, sighing "Alright..."

"It's nothing personal, it really isn't," Graeme started to feel somewhat sympathetic for the little horse "& I know you can't help me with anything outside beginning my objective. I'm sorry, but this is just something I have to do, no exceptions." Handing back the opened letter, as the pony made it very clear how disappointed he was through his amber eyes, eyes that could've been mistaken for glow-

Graeme's senses perked up when he heard the apartment door open. He stood up & reached around to his holster, pulling out a blaster, holding it by his side with both hands as he peeked around the door frame. The whistles of a T3-series utility droid rang out, he began feeling the sweat building up on his arms cool him off as soon as it began. He walked into the room closely tailed by Postal, he spied a bronze droid staring back at him with it's single lime-green eye from across the room. It sounded out a handful of disgruntled beeps & whirrs at him.

"T3-A6," Graeme confirmed with crossed arms "I told you we still have an hour before our landing permit expires."

The droid spoke back in an impatient tone.

"Hey, sorry if I'm taking a little longer than I thought I would, just go back to the ship & keep her warm, I'll bring back the last boxes now, okay?"

The droid spun around & began to head back to their ship, tossing the human a few choice words as it exited the apartment.

Graeme knelt down to stack the final pair of boxes together as Postal asked "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did he just call you a 'raggabund pluviophile'?"

Graeme chuckled "That he did."

"I didn't know droids could build up a personality like that, although I didn't imagine you would wipe his memory anytime soon."

"I haven't the heart for the little todger, I've grown attached to him more than I thought I would. He gets needy when his itch for adventure isn't scratched after a while, he's normally quite chirpy." Walking out the door he started down the open corridor towards his ship, Postal trotting beside him.

"I see you still have that blaster I gave you all those years ago." Postal admired.

"Never let it leave my side. It's gotten me out of more trouble than you'd imagine." ending his response with a snort.

"Oh, I very much doubt that," Postal remarked "why did you reach for it though?"

Graeme pretended to fumble with his boxes, ignoring the question.

"...Bounty hunters?"

"You have no idea how paranoid they make me feel," he uttered "I don't know when the Exchange'll send 'em out to get me, the only way you can tell is - like I said, when posters of my stupid face go up everywhere. They're real tight gits, I've only got a week to pay them back, it's just… can we talk about something else, please? Like why you don't have one of those... cutie mark... things," he cringed slightly from saying 'cutie mark' "I mean, I've been to some Equestria-ish dimensions before, one that had some 'Sillestia' running the place."

"Celestia," Postal corrected "She generally controls the rising of the local star, there's a whole bunch of them scattered throughout the dimensions - all slightly differing from the last, even some... questionable versions."

"Okay, let's not talk about those Celestias, summa them creep me the hell out." the leather-jacket-wearing smuggler made clear.

"I wasn't hinting towards those ones, just the run-of-the-mill versions, let's not go into the ones after sundown."

"Thanks, you know-"

"For the millionth time," Postal yelled, knowing where the conversation would head "yes, I know you're nervous around those types of women!" The duo paused & stared at each other in the walkway, the realisation of what he said suddenly caved in on him "I… shouldn't have shouted that loud about it... sorry, pal, you just keep it keep telling me more times than you should."

Both of them stood in awkward silence, the pattering of raindrops caught Graeme's attention.

"I remember one time you sent me to give some royal stuff to a guy, Helios I think, to help him with some big rain problem he was having."

"Oh wow, I can't believe you remember that far back," Postal remarked, pleasantly surprised "he was a variant of Celestia - well, he is now."

"Seriously? I never went back to see him after that."

"Well, when you met him he was just a colt, but when I met him he was at the height of his power, ruling one of The Four Lands in his dimension."

"Amazing…" Graeme said, awestruck, trying to picture the kingdom.

"At least he used to, anyway." the grey pony whispered to the side, his human companion thought he heard the murmur.

"Pardon?"

"It was a long time ago, sorry, I said it was a long time ago…" Postal quickly said, using the first sentence to pop into his head.

"In a galaxy far, far away by any chance?" Graeme laughed.

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The pair continued their chatter, reminiscing of the past as they walked down the corridor, eventually out into an enormous hangar bay, littered with all different amalgamations of spacecraft types, & hidden behind some was his.

"Still have that charismatic ship, I see." Postal's smug face turned to Graeme.

"It-is-a-box-with-an-engine. What more is there to describe?" He stated, now ticked off that he had to mention his craft of all things.

"But that's why I like it!" Postal exclaimed "It's so orderly & neat compared to the rest of the fleet."

"& that's why I don't like it; standing out too much in a crowd of scruffy, half-broken ships can get me killed. Not like you've ever bumped shoulders with death before." The horse opened his mouth to say something, but it slowly closed as he trailed off into his own thoughts.

Graeme placed the boxes at the foot of his spacecraft's ramp & turned to Postal. "Listen, I'm sorry again that I can't run this errand, but this is something I hav-"

"It's okay, don't worry. I'll just go back to my Overseer, He'll find somebody to do the job, it isn't that important… There's always someone else." Postal stated, rubbing his short mane nervously.

"Gee, thanks, making me feel expendable you are." The human said in a comedic attitude.

"No, I didn't mean it like that…"

"Hue, I know, I know. It was… good to see you again though," Graeme admitted "I hope to meet you again some day, friend."

"It sounds cruel to say this but… I think the only regret I have from the hundreds of times I met you, is not getting to know you well enough. I'm glad we had this talk." Postal beamed, keeping his emotions as covered as he could. "Now just go, you've got a life to get on with."

Graeme sighed & took the pair of boxes into his ship, the ramp closing slowly behind him, not wanting to look back. Walking into the cockpit decorated with flashing, clunky buttons eagerly waiting to be pressed, he pulled a lever to start the engine, the fat cargo ship gradually rose & hovered it's way out of the hangar. As he turned his ship, he looked back into the hangar through splotches of rain on his windshield. His heart dropped into his stomach to find Postal already gone.

"Ditto." He mouthed. As his T3 unit scurried it's way into the cockpit, he placed a hand on the excited utility droid's head, patting it affectionately as they shot off into the cloudy, afternoon sky.