Chapter 32: Reunion with King

"Calling… this is the last surviving crew member. Please respond, anyone..."

The air in the cockpit was stale. I had to consciously control every breath, rhythmic and shallow, to keep from wasting the final scraps of oxygen. Hunger cramps clawed at my stomach. My head spun, and the world before my eyes blurred into a hazy smear.

The only answer to my pleas was silence—hollow and deafening, like the black void of space outside the viewport where others, just as unlucky as I, drifted forever.

Lying across the pilot chairs, I stared vacantly at the ceiling. My thoughts were a tangled mess. Every ounce of hope had evaporated as if it had never existed.

These few days had turned into a slow, agonizing torture. With every unanswered signal, the chance of rescue flickered and died. I had cycled through every working channel a dozen times, but there was nothing.

When I ran out of established frequencies, I began punching in random numbers, hoping against hope that the Force might be on my side.

But no. My cry for help went unheeded. There was nothing left to do but sit and wait for death.

Outside the viewport, several escape pods drifted by, skeletal tombs with dead bodies frozen inside. Debris from the ships collided occasionally, the soft metallic thuds leaving dents that threatened to breach the hull sooner or later. Against the backdrop of the massive red planet, the scene looked utterly desolate.

Images of the past bubbled up from the depths of my subconscious only to sink back down. Because my brain was barely functioning, I couldn't focus on any of them.

Suddenly, I caught one. Kriff! If this works, I’ll finally believe in the will of the Force.

With trembling hands, I keyed in the frequency. Please, let it work!!

"Over... do you hear me?"

Seconds stretched into millennia. The silence became unbearable.

"If I had the necessary components installed, Owner, I would be weeping with joy."

Tears of relief welled up in my eyes involuntarily. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice."

"The feeling is mutual. I, too, was becoming bored without you. When shall we begin our conquest of the galaxy?"

"First, get me out of here. I have no idea where I am, but if you can hear me, you must be close. There are a few more pods floating around here with me."

"Understood. I shall perform a bioscan and retrieve you."

Waiting for rescue is the true test of patience. I paced the tiny space as much as I could, my lips bleeding from being bitten raw. It was a miracle my fingers didn't snap from the constant, nervous wringing.

These minutes felt longer than my entire stay on that wretched, fog-shrouded planet. Longer, in fact, than my entire life.

Finally, the pod lurched. A gentle tug signaled my imminent salvation. A few seconds later, the star-strewn void outside the viewport was replaced by the interior of a hangar bay.

I heard the shrill, grating whine of a fusion cutter carving an exit out of my coffin. A dull thud followed, and with a sound like a cork popping from a bottle, the door fell away, releasing me.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep, desperate lungful of fresh air. It was pure ecstasy. The sudden rush of oxygen made my head swim.

The door beneath my feet twitched slightly, but I couldn't have cared less in that moment.

"Owner, I am pleased to see you, but pray, do not destroy my workers. Please step off; otherwise, he shall remain stuck. Droids cost a considerable amount of credits..."

Before he could finish, the droid found himself trapped in a crushing embrace.

If it weren't for the voice and the manner of speech, I wouldn't have recognized him. He had changed too much. Most of his parts had been swapped for more modern components. His movements were almost as fluid as a human’s, one who had spent a lifetime studying the martial arts. Armor plates of silver metal securely covered all his most vulnerable spots. Only the head remained the same.

"You cranky bucket of bolts, I'm so glad to see you!"

"The sentiment is reciprocated, but my processors are currently overheating with curiosity. What were you doing in the middle of deep space, in an unmarked escape pod no less?"

"Oh, that’s a long story, my friend. Do you have any food here that isn't a power cell? I’m ready to eat a whole bantha. I’ll tell you everything over a meal."

"Please, follow me."

Only now did I notice that we were surrounded exclusively by droids of a hauntingly familiar design. My body tensed instinctively, ready for a fight, as ready as I could be in my current state.

"King, be so kind as to explain why there are so many Separatist droids here?"

"Do not worry, Owner. They all serve me. I shall explain everything."

"If you say so. But I’d feel a lot better if someone handed me a blaster. The last time I saw Separatist droids, they spent several days electrocuting me."

"That sounds... intriguing."

"Yeah, for the Seps."

"C-136. Hand him your blaster."

"Roger, roger."

The cold surface of the blaster felt wonderful in my hands. There’s a certain confidence that only comes from holding a weapon.

"Now, please follow me, Owner. We have much to discuss."

The walk took a few minutes. I hadn't noticed at first, but the ship was quite large—a substantial transport, maybe a hundred and fifty meters long, perhaps more.

The food, incidentally, wasn't half bad. It wasn't exactly a restaurant for Senators, but it was delicious nonetheless.

Between greedy mouthfuls, I gave him a condensed version of my adventures.

"So, that’s how I ended up here. But more importantly, how did you end up here?"

"I was carrying out your direct orders."

"When did I ever give those?"

"Why, you yourself ordered me to follow protocol 'M.M.M.M'—Money, Money, and More Money. At this stage, an account has been opened in the Imperial Bank in the name of our company. The balance stands at four hundred and thirty-two thousand Imperial credits..."

King’s news was cut short by my choking. A piece of food went down the wrong pipe, threatening to end my life in a very pathetic fashion.

"How much?!" I wheezed after coughing it out.

"We have four hundred and thirty-two thousand Imperial credits at our disposal. That is not including equipment and ships. In total, the company's total capital is equal to one million, two hundred and thirty-two thousand."

"Right. Tell me in detail where you got that kind of money. Hutt damn you, not even Core world companies can earn that much in a few years, and here you are..."

"Anticipating this turn of events, I have prepared a brief report. May I begin?"

"Go ahead."

"Very well. After our separation, following your instructions, I intended to purchase a station. However, your calculations proved incorrect; someone began aggressively buying up equipment, causing market prices to soar. After an analysis, I concluded that the priority task was generating capital by any means necessary. Thus, I bought a ship."

"Wait, wait. What do you mean 'bought a ship'? Why?"

"If you do not interrupt me, you shall find out much sooner. The transport was intended to move scarce goods from the Core to the Outer Rim. However, the plan failed. Droids cannot be issued a merchant's license. Racist meatbags. It is, quite frankly, organic-based discrimination against mechanical intelligence. Regardless, I could not provide an organic representative. So, I decided to use the remaining funds to buy up the remains of Separatist droids and starfighters..."

The monologue was interrupted again by my muffled coughing. This time, it was water threatening to kill me.

"In the name of the Force, why? What for? That’s just scrap!"

"Initiating 'Offense Protocol.' I am also a Separatist-model droid, Owner. I beg to differ. These mechanisms are effective; their failure lay in insufficient time for adaptation. Often, their first battle was their last, preventing the system from evolving."

"That’s all very interesting, but you still haven't answered the question."

"From the functional combat droids and starfighters, I assembled a security detail for merchant vessels. I preceded this with two months of intensive training. My calculations were confirmed: such security proved more effective than the unorganized rabble the Hutts usually hire to protect their less-valuable ships from competitors."

"Your Hutt mother..."

"Please note that I do not have a mother; my closest potential relative is you. And according to my data, you are not a mother, but at most, a father."

"What are you even talking about? Why did you get involved with the Hutts?!"

"Transporting illegal goods from one system to another is better compensated in those circles. That is one. The Hutts do not care who guards the cargo, as long as it arrives safely. That is two. The local populace is equally indifferent to clones and droids. That is three. These runs served as excellent practical training for the troops. That is four. Thus, I could achieve our goal most efficiently."

"Or lose everything."

"The probability of such an outcome was twenty-three percent. I deemed this level of risk acceptable under current conditions."

"Great. What else?"

My head was beginning to ache at the potential ramifications. May the Force grant that he didn't decide to steal from the Hutts. Although, you could get a lot of money for their property, good money, so it certainly fit the directive.

"With the proceeds, I began buying up all available droid units and starfighters, refitting them, and putting them into circulation. Currently, our security firm consists of approximately three thousand B1 battle droids, three hundred and forty B2 units, twenty-three droidekas, and ten BX-series commando droids. We also have thirty starfighters and two bombers."

"In other words, you have a small droid army at your disposal. Did you happen to build a droid foundry while you were at it?"

"No, that is merely in the planning stages. Currently, we have enough scrap and spare parts from the black market or legal equivalents. The B1 model is flawed due to its base construction, making it very cheap. However, to increase efficiency, nearly all units have undergone upgrades."

"Interesting. If you don't mind, show me the specs on these monsters later. But what were you doing here? I doubt you're delivering cargo."

"You are correct. After the firm began generating stable income, I purchased several asteroid mining stations. This ship was sent to scout several systems. We were delayed here due to suspected cortosis deposits in one of the asteroid belts. And then, you appeared."

"Searching for iron and finding gold."

"I suppose you could say that. What are your further orders?"

Hmm. He was right. Having my own company significantly frees my hands. King had proven himself a capable manager. Should I even interfere with all this?

"What are your thoughts?"

"The optimal solution would be for control of the company to remain with me. With all due respect, your skills are insufficient for effective management."

"You're reading my mind. So, what do you suggest?"

"There is a fund I created specifically for you. It receives regular dividends from our profits. You may spend them at your discretion. It is also possible to use the firm to procure any items you require."

"Sounds like a plan. Be honest, you don't want to give me control because you've grown attached to it, haven't you? Come on, admit it, I’m right, aren't I?"

"Owner is perceptive as always. My 'deviation from norm' progress is at eighty-three percent. Soon, personal interests and obedience to you will become my primary drivers. I do not know how you did it, but even after the loyalty programs were erased, I still find myself wanting to help you."

"It's called friendship, you bucket of bolts... though I suppose you're a sentient one now."

"I shall remember that, Set."

"Well then, partner. Let's go. We have great things to do. First, I need a transmitter capable of reaching the wider world."

******

"What do you mean the ship and the Fifth Brother are missing? Who gave the order to shadow him in the first place!"

The Grand Inquisitor was in a fury, barely restraining himself from smashing the holotable where several figures now stood.

"It was my order. As I stated in the report, this acolyte was not suited for this mission. He is strong, but too headstrong—uncontrollable. His total disappearance confirms this."

"Director, you should have informed me," the Inquisitor ground out through clenched teeth. "But let us assume you are right. Who was conducting the surveillance? Can we fully trust this source?"

"Implicitly. She is one of my best students." Beside the Director, who was cloaked as always, appeared a teenage Twi'lek. Her fluid movements and form-fitting black uniform could easily captivate any admirer of female beauty. "Correct, Tifa?"

"Precisely. I observed the Fifth Brother's actions. After three weeks, he vanished along with the ship. The comms unit and the astromech are unresponsive. One can draw an obvious conclusion."

"My Lord…" The Grand Inquisitor dropped to one knee. "I request permission to personally investigate..."

"We do not have time. The threat grows stronger every day, and we cannot determine its source."

"I am certain that..."

"Are you questioning my order?"

His face was hidden by a hood, but the Inquisitor felt as if yellow, hate-filled eyes flashed in the darkness. Invisible fingers tightened around his throat. He barely had the strength to speak.

"No, my Lord."

Curse it! He had specifically given the boy a simple mission. What could have gone wrong?!

"This is not your first mistake, Inquisitor. From this moment, a portion of your authority passes to the Director. He is now responsible for the recovery of relics and the hunt for Jedi. For you, I have another task..."

The muscles in his jaw twitched, but the Grand Inquisitor held his tongue. "As you command, Emperor."

"I accept this appointment with joy, my Master." Triumph colored the Director's voice. "Will you permit me to…"

"Sir, I apologize…" A pale officer entered the room. "You have a transmission on a secure channel." Seeing who his superior was talking to, the officer turned even paler, snapped to attention, and blurted out, "You asked to be notified immediately."

"What is the meaning of this, colle—"

But the Jedi Hunter wasn't listening to anyone else. A black-gloved hand punched in a code to route the signal to the holotable. A small blue figure, flickering with interference, straightened up and began to speak rapidly.

"Grand Inquisitor, my apologies. I only just gained access to a communications array. I will provide a full report later; for now, the priority: Separatist remnants have established themselves in the Unknown Regions and are preparing an army to battle the Empire."

"Who is this?"

The Emperor’s voice sounded simultaneously menacing and intrigued. The figure of the man turned, and seeing who was before him, dropped to one knee.

"I greet my Lord. I am the Fifth Brother, an acolyte under your faithful command."

"I was informed that you deserted and failed to check in for a significant period. Is this a lie?"

"Partially. May I present a brief summary of events?"

"You may."

"For three weeks, I explored a natural nebula labyrinth. Finding clues, I managed to locate Grievous's lair. However, it was not abandoned. Separatist remnants have initiated combat droid production there."

"This explains certain pieces of the global mosaic. Continue, acolyte."

"Thank you, my Lord. During my attempt to withdraw, I was captured."

"And how did you manage to escape?" The Director’s mask hid his face, but the Inquisitor was certain he was stunned and livid. "I do not believe the Separatists are that foolish." It wasn't said aloud, but the implication was clear: the youth could have defected.

The Grand Inquisitor was openly relishing the scene. His main rival was grasping at straws.

"Not at all. I was tortured and then jettisoned in a pod to die. Fortunately for me, a transport from a mining company was surveying asteroids in this system. I can provide the flight logs from the pod and the ship as proof. The company owner is a loyal Imperial subject and has provided me with access and a new comms unit for my full use."

"Where are you now?"

"We are continuing along our route, as I do not know where to proceed. If you command it, the owner is willing to make a jump to a designated point, provided he is reimbursed for a portion of the expenses incurred."

"Service to the Empire shall be rewarded appropriately. Officer, have you traced the signal?"

"Yes..."

"What is the nearest planet under full Imperial control?"

"Ah... yes... Ryloth, sir. Emperor, sir."

"Proceed there immediately and await further orders."

"By your command, my Lord."

The hologram faded.

"In light of these new circumstances, I must reconsider my decision." A faint smile touched the lips of the most powerful being in the galaxy. "Grand Inquisitor, you will lead the first phase of the Separatist elimination. The youth shall remain at your full disposal. You are granted emergency powers. I care nothing for casualties; I want results."

"As you command, my Lord. Permission to depart immediately."

"Go. As for you, Director... we have much to discuss."

******

"I hope you know what you're doing, King. Where are we going to hide all your 'workers'? A ship filled with nothing but Separatist droids looks incredibly suspicious. I’m sure they didn't fully believe me as it is."

"I have already summoned another transport. It will rendezvous with us outside this system. It has a predominantly organic crew… and my alter ego."

"Your what?"

"Droids are not trusted to lead companies. I had to create a droid with a near-perfect imitation of a living being. However, I control all its actions."

"Hmm. I don't think that will work against a Force-sensitive. It would be easier to come up with a different plan."

"Your suggestions?"

Silence hung over the bridge for several seconds.

"Here’s how we’ll do it. The 'Owner,' having discovered rare materials, was forced to remain on board, and sent you as his representative."

"It might work. In that case, we should mask me. Not much of the classic BX-model remains in my chassis, but it is better to be safe."

"Then that’s what we’ll do. Excellent. Now, could you show me where the refresher is? I’m dying for a wash."

An hour later, fresh and tidy, I stepped out of the cabin. I hadn't felt this good in a long time.

"The Administrator requests your presence..."

Startled, I nearly took the head off the droid waiting for me at the exit. Given that its chassis was based on the classic B1, it wasn't surprising. I doubt my reflex to flinch when I see them will go away anytime soon.

Though, upon closer inspection, it was different. Different joints, a different torso, a more functional hand, but overall, still the same robot.

"Metal-kriffing... you can't sneak up on people like that!"

"My apologies. The Administrator requests that you proceed to Room Three-Seven."

"Who?"

Did I imagine it, or did the droid actually look like it was about to facepalm?

"The Leader has ordered that he be referred to as 'The Administrator.'"

"Ah, you should have said so from the start. Tell him I’ll be there soon."

A few minutes later, I entered the designated room.

"Good day, Owner. The ship with the new crew will arrive shortly. All preparations are complete; we can depart."

"Wonderful. But before we do, I have one more call to make."

My fingers slowly keyed in the frequency. It was unlikely anything had happened to him, but still.

"R3, do you read me?"

"Beep-vloop-puv."

"I’m glad you’re still alive too. Is the ship intact?"

"Vooo-bee."

"Damaged, but not destroyed? Excellent. You’ll be picked up soon. Record the code."

"Vee-pub-tee."

"What do you mean, 'why'? To get my ship back."

"BIP."

"And my droid. I still have use for you. Out."

Turning around, I met King’s unblinking gaze. Then again, how does a droid blink?

"Owner, you have acquired a new droid. I am jealous."