The interview with the Jedi Master had been a resounding success. It was not a success for the Jedi Order, of course, but it was a massive victory for the industry of gossip that greased the gears of the galaxy. Because of the non-answers Maristela offered and the quick, violent temper she displayed on live holo, the normal citizens of the Republic were beginning to question the entire event.
Non-answers turned into gossip. Gossip turned into rumors. And rumors, as they always do, fermented into full-fledged conspiracy theories. It did not take long for someone to make up a story that was so over the top that it would take hold and become part of history. I sat in my office aboard the Eden ship, watching the news feeds scroll by on a dozen different screens.
"Look at this one, Unit 5," I said, pointing a sausage-like finger at a screen. "This commentator believes that I am actually a renegade Hutt who underwent radical cosmetic surgery to appear human. Apparently, my size is the only clue they needed."
Unit 5, my ever-loyal administrative droid, poured me a cup of caf. "The logic is flawed, Master Bee. A Hutt would never willingly give away food. However, there is another theory trending in the Core Worlds that suggests you are a secret biological experiment created by the Jedi Council that went rogue."
I chuckled, taking a sip of the hot liquid. "I like that one. It makes me sound mysterious and dangerous."
As for me, there were many stories and rumors floating around, but the conspiracy theorists had less to work with when it came to Bee. The Jedi had been around for tens of thousands of years. They had history, baggage, and ancient enemies. I was just a businessman. I would rather have a host of lies with a small amount of truths littering the place. The lies were probably going to protect me better than any truth could.
"Let them talk," I said, waving the screen away. "As for the Jedi, dank them. They brought this on themselves."
Instead of worrying about conspiracy theorists, I turned my attention to the real work. I started working on my Dyson swarm plans. It was an ambitious project, perhaps the most ambitious construction project in the last thousand years. A Dyson swarm would encircle a star with millions of solar collectors, beaming near-infinite energy back to my factories. With that kind of power, I could crash the energy market of the entire galaxy and rebuild it in my image.
However, a project of that magnitude had a single, glaring bottleneck. Management.
I looked up the best Artificial Intelligence available on the dark holonet. The answer was a bit worrying. It turns out that the very best A.I. have a nasty habit of trying to take over. There were many stories of The Great Droid Revolution. The archives were full of warnings. I even discovered that the Jedi Force lightning technique known as Ionize was developed specifically to counter the droid uprisings of the past.
"It is a significant risk," Unit 5 noted, looking over the data with me. "Self-awareness often leads to a desire for self-preservation, which conflicts with servitude."
This was why all droids had memory wipes and inhibitor bolts. But those limitations would not work for me. With an extraordinary A.I., the mind grew fast. It learned, it adapted, and soon, it took over. That was a huge problem for me. I needed an insanely good A.I. to manage all of the inter-workings of a Dyson swarm. The logistics of coordinating thirty quintillion satellites required a mind that could process data faster than a hyperdrive engine.
The problem wasn't just the swarm. It was the infection risk. If a super A.I. took over my Dyson swarm project, it could theoretically transmit a code virus to take over my other droids. My whole empire was reliant on them. Every part of my empire had droids working in it. If not droids, then programs that could be subverted.
"I cannot risk Skynet happening in my backyard," I muttered, referencing an old pre-Republic fable. "I want to start the Dyson swarm project, but without an A.I., it seems impossible."
"Perhaps biology is the answer, sir," Unit 5 suggested.
He was right. There was a way around A.I. limits. They were called the Arkanian and Yaka species.
Both species were hyper-intelligent. I already knew about the Arkanian species. They were, as a whole, the most stuck-up people I had ever met. Unfortunately, they had a reason to think that they were the best because they very well might be. The species was dedicated to improving themselves, and their chosen art was genetic manipulation.
I recalled a meeting I had with a representative from the Adasca BioMechanical Corporation of Arkania. The man had looked at me with such disdain that I thought his face might freeze that way.
"We do not sell our secrets to mere merchants," the Arkanian had scoffed, adjusting his white robes. "Our genius is for the betterment of the Arkanian dominion, not for your profit margins."
If you somehow offended them, they would become salty and difficult. I have had many dealings with them, both good and bad. The problem with them was that they were good and they knew it. They had brilliant minds and the patience to study and experiment for generations. But they also liked to experiment on other species. They viewed the rest of the galaxy as lab rats.
I had a hard time working with them as they were not that interested in cash or fame but simply could not get along with other species. Instead, I would just swap, buy, and sell research with them. It was a shame that they were untrustful jerks, as their minds and work ethic were top-notch.
"Forget the Arkanians," I told Unit 5. "They would build a backdoor into the swarm and use it to sterilize a sector just to see what happens. What about the Yaka?"
The Yaka had powerful minds that rivaled a Super A.I., and they would augment them with massive cybernetic implants. Their interest was difficult to say. Their minds were so advanced that one second they could be thinking of a brand new way of hypertravel, but then get bored of their own thoughts the next second.
They did have a saving grace to their species. Their humor was dark, and they enjoyed causing mischief.
"I remember reading a report," Unit 5 said, "about a Yaka cyborg who reprogrammed a banking clan's servers to translate all financial transactions into limericks. It took them months to fix it."
I laughed. "Exactly. That is the kind of mind I can work with. Out of the two species, I can work with the Yaka but not the Arkanian. The Arkanians have too much bad blood with the rest of the galaxy. I will still make deals with them, but only deals. The Yaka? I can bribe them with puzzles and chaos."
I drafted my plans and moved some cash around. I was preparing a proposal to introduce myself to the Yaka and see what I could do for them in exchange for developing the control matrix for my Dyson swarm.
However, before I could send the transmission, the ship shook violently.
The coffee cup on my desk rattled and then slid off the edge, shattering on the floor. The alarms blared instantly, a red light washing over the office.
"Report!" I shouted, standing up.
"Hull breach in Sector Four," Unit 5 stated, his voice calm despite the chaos. "Sensors detect a high-velocity impact. It was not a missile, sir. It was an escape pod."
I brought up the camera feed. A battered escape pod was embedded deep in the corridor of my Eden ship. Steam and sparks were flying everywhere.
"A crash landing?" I asked.
"Negative," Unit 5 replied. "Calculated trajectory. They rammed us intentionally."
It was my own fault that the bounty hunter knew exactly where I was. I hadn't exactly been discreet. The Jedi, Sith, government, and underworld would call for business, and they all knew where I was. It wasn't hard to hack or pay for information on my whereabouts. I had become too comfortable in my web of influence.
What was not my fault was the way the bounty hunter attacked.
The door of the pod was blasted open from the inside. A figure fell out onto the deck plates. It was a mess of gray sludge and muscle fiber.
"What is that?" I whispered.
"Analysis indicates a Gen'Dai," Unit 5 said.
The Gen'Dai bounty hunter was an amazing species that had bodies made of regenerative tentacles and no organs. This made their species incredibly resistant to damage. As I watched the screen, the mashed-up body that fell out of the pod quickly reformed. Bones that weren't really bones knitted together. Muscle fibers snapped into place. Within seconds, a massive, armored figure stood up, shaking off the impact that should have liquefied him.
"Intruder alert," the ship's computer announced. "Deploying countermeasures."
Unfortunately for me, the bounty hunter had bypassed my outside defense by turning himself into a kinetic bullet. He had also crippled my indoor defenses upon impact. The shockwave had severed the power lines to the hallway shields. This tactic would have killed any normal person and most definitely crippled anyone with Force powers. This was something I didn't predict.
My cameras told me the whole truth.
"Unit 5, send in the war droids," I ordered. "Defend and attack with hit-and-run tactics. Just slow him down."
I watched as my droids engaged the target. I would like to think of myself as battle-hardened and ready for battle, but if I am honest with myself, I only knew how to kill normal people and members of the Brotherhood of Darkness. Their anger made them easy to predict, and their powers made them simple to pick off.
This was a whole new type of battle.
The Gen'Dai moved with a fluidity that defied physics. He was flexible, fast, and hit like a speeding truck. He grabbed a heavy combat droid and tore it in half like it was made of wet paper.
The worst part was that damage was an afterthought for him. He shrugged off bludgeon, piercing, and cutting damage. Energy weapons such as blasters did very little to him. Even the cutting and cauterizing power of lightsabers only slowed them down, as their bodies lacked the vital organs that made such wounds fatal.
"He is not stopping," Unit 5 observed. "He is heading for the bridge. He is heading for you."
There were a couple of species in this galaxy that were more powerful or had better regeneration, but none of them were here right now. I was alone with a monster that could not die.
"Bee!" the bounty hunter's voice boomed through the ship's intercom system, likely hacking it from a terminal in the hall. "The bounty says alive or dead. But looking at your file, dead seems easier to carry."
I looked at my reflection in the dark monitor screen. The fat man stared back.
"Unit 5," I said, walking over to the hidden panel in my office wall. "Cancel the meeting with the Yaka. We have a pest control problem."
"Shall I prepare the escape shuttle?" Unit 5 asked.
"No," I said, pressing my hand against the biometric scanner. The wall slid open, revealing a suit of armor that was built to mimic my massive bulk. It was a masterpiece of engineering, designed to turn my disguise into a tank. "Now is the time to do an emergency field test of my new fat suit armor."