He came to while lying on a bed. A medical droid was pacing nearby.
I'm still alive? He blinked, shook his head, and bit his cheek. Pain. He was apparently alive; he must have an absurd reserve of luck. He figured if his people had arrived any later, he would have simply bled out.
He leaned back onto the pillow, relaxed. His mind was calm and surprisingly clear. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so well. The Darkness still swirled within him, but it had changed. Not weaker, no, but perhaps calmer. Something had shifted inside him, though he did not yet understand what.
But he definitely liked the change.
With a dull hiss, the doors slid apart. He didn't even have to turn his head. The Force hinted at who had come to visit.
"Hey, Boss."
"I see you're awake. How are you feeling?"
"I'll live."
"That's good."
A silence fell. He didn't know what to say. Remembering how he had acted over the last few months made him feel sick inside. He was surprised they had even bothered to pick him up.
"Koven, I apologize for all the inconvenience I caused. I can't guarantee that it won't happen again in the future, but for now, I promise I'll try to control myself better."
He clearly sensed in the Force how the tension slowly left the man.
"You look like your old self again, Set. And your eyes aren't tinged with yellow anymore. Though your skin is still just as pale."
"Maybe this is just a temporary improvement. Remember how it started last time; I didn't turn into... that right away. Anyway, we'll think about what to do with all this later. Let's move on to pressing matters. What happened while I was out, and how long do I have to lie here?"
"Two more days, and you can be discharged. The doctor said you have an abnormally fast recovery rate. And incredible luck. If the blade had passed at a different angle, you would have lost some of your internal organs. A normal person would still be laid up for another week and a half, assuming they survived such a wound. As the Jedi say, the Force is with you.
"As for the news... After we took the fortress, the Separatists tried to push us out, but without success. Honestly, if the clone forces hadn't broken through with aerial support from the pirates, they wouldn't have pulled back their forces and would have crushed us. Rumor has it that a Jedi will be arriving soon. The Republic has decided to set up a staging post in our system, so the war continues. But I have a feeling we'll knock the tin cans out of the city soon."
"But apparently without me."
"Yes, if a Jedi arrives, it's best you don't leave the bunker unnecessarily."
The awkward silence returned. The Boss clearly didn't know how to act around him.
"Koven, is there any news about Malik? Has he surfaced anywhere?"
"No. Because of this cursed war, communications are spotty, and there's no way to get into orbit. As soon as everything settles down, we'll start looking for him. I promise you."
"Good. Excuse me, I need to rest."
"Yes, of course. Get well."
Turning on his heel, he quickly left the room.
The door hissed shut again, and he was alone once more; even the medical droid had left for its duties. Well, now he had time to sort everything out while his mind was clear.
As it turned out, he had much more time than he had anticipated. The Force had decided to give him another unexpected turn of fate.
The Jedi did arrive on the planet and took command of the ground forces. So, for the next couple of months, the bunker became his home. That's what he thought, but things turned out to be much worse.
He had, of course, seen the news about the Jedi General, who, abandoning all tactics, would charge into battle with his lightsaber. But he'd hoped it was Separatist propaganda and nothing more. Unfortunately, it turned out to be true. There was no planning, enormous casualties among the clones, and equally terrible losses of equipment. Perhaps there were decent strategists among the Jedi, but theirs was certainly not one of them.
He took the planet's originally advantageous position and made it almost catastrophic. Republic forces were completely routed from the city. Now, the clones were hiding in the forests and swamps surrounding it. They definitely wouldn't be emerging from there anytime soon.
His hideout, which had been practically in the center of their positions, was now on a constantly shifting front line. He didn't know how many times he had woken up to the sound of explosions overhead.
At first, it was terrifying, but then he got used to it. The scary part was being underground all the time. In the very corner of his consciousness, the thought kept spinning that any moment now the ceiling would collapse on him, burying him alive. So he searched for new places where he could settle down.
When he did have to venture to the surface, his eyes were met with the mournful sight of total destruction. These places hadn't been beautiful or well-maintained before, but one could at least believe people lived here. Now, only the remains of homes covered all the visible space.
All the survivors had long since fled the city limits. The main thing was to save their lives; the rest would follow. Overall, he understood them.
As far as he knew, most of the criminal groups had either retired or sided with the Separatists. That idiot, the Jedi, had decided to use their fighters to cover the retreat of his clones. Now, there were three distinct forces in the city: Separatists, Republic forces, and independent groups actively fighting the first two. But for now, that hardly concerned him.
With the change in circumstances, his life had radically changed course again. Now he spent far more time reflecting on what he should do and how he should proceed.
For a long time, his consciousness had been seized by a monster that everyone, including him, feared. Perhaps this was why the Jedi hunted down Force-sensitive children. If even one in twenty children turned into... that, the galaxy would have long since drowned in blood.
But there were the Sith, too, supposedly. That meant there was some kind of training system, but where to look for teachers or even manuscripts was unclear. So he would have to learn on his own, carefully and slowly. The most important thing was not to turn into a lunatic again. And the first step toward that was self-control, which was easiest to achieve through meditation. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.
Memories, still so vivid, flashed before his eyes. However, he now tried to control them, directing them in the way he needed. If he felt emotions beginning to overwhelm him, he immediately stopped meditating. At such moments, the Force demanded an outlet, and he would seek out droid columns and destroy them.
Such impromptu training did not go to waste.
The boundaries of what was possible for him gradually expanded. Needless, chaotic movements began to disappear, replaced by a somewhat clumsy, yet functional, combat style. These were no longer random leaps from side to side or disorderly strikes. He vaguely, but definitely, envisioned what he would do a step ahead and knew how he would execute it.
He could now hold more objects simultaneously. Overall, his interaction with the Force was moving to a new level. Everything that had once seemed impossible was gradually opening up to him.
The sense of danger now made itself known much earlier than before. The difference was only in milliseconds, but in a fight, that smallest advantage could increase his chances of survival.
However, despite his growing skills, the surface was still dangerous for him. Practically every other excursion required him to flee in haste, covering his tracks, or hide under rubble while waiting out an artillery barrage. So he wasn't eager to leave his hideout unnecessarily. Only once a week for food and water, or during short sprints for power cells to maintain life support.
So he spent most of his time in the bunker, and he wasn't alone.
On the second week of being stuck underground without a break, out of boredom and idleness, he had the idea of learning how to assemble and program droids, since there were so many spare parts lying around.
It could also bring in good money in the future. But the assembly didn't go well; it was too repetitive and monotonous. Reprogramming the tin cans, however, was much more fun and interesting.
After spending the first two months practically underground in the bunker, rarely seeing the sky, occupied with meditations, training, and programming, he was so utterly fed up that he decided to venture out at his own risk. To get a change of scenery and gather material for his amateur research.
And what did he find? Taking an observation position on the roof of a relatively intact building, he patiently peered into the deserted streets.
He admitted it was difficult, very difficult. Something inside him demanded immediate action. Why sit and wait for the enemy when he could storm their base? The thoughts of a coming fight were stirring, but not as intensely as before. With a forceful effort, he managed to restrain his impulses.
After an hour of waiting, he spotted a group of buckets of bolts swiftly marching toward the front line. The sounds of explosions were coming from that direction, black smoke billowed, and several starfighters were circling, trying to shoot down enemy ships.
The group of standard CIS droids didn't interest him; they were too dull and clumsy, no fun to reprogram. But in the distance, a more desirable target appeared.
A group of the very same tin cans that had almost killed him in the fortress were speeding along on speeder bikes, skillfully maneuvering between the wreckage. The wound from the vibroblade had long since healed, but the memory of that night still gave him an unpleasant itch. These remarkable droids could cause a lot of trouble even for the Force-sensitive. They were exactly what he needed.
Estimating their route, he sprinted to intercept them. He was lucky the distance wasn't too great. He managed to arrive at the spot before the droids and set up a trap. A group of three speeder bikes arrived a little later than him, but he was ready.
The battle itself took no more than a few seconds. Though it could hardly be called a fight.
The tin cans, caught off guard, didn't have time to react to the concrete slabs he raised from the ground. Two crashed immediately, and the third damaged its bike and was forced to jump to the ground.
Without waiting for it to prepare for a fight, he simply shot its head off. There were two spare carcasses lying there; he could take parts from them if needed.
The rest was a matter of technical know-how. He regretted more than once that all the speeders were out of commission. Dragging a metallic dummy on his back was hardly a pleasure for a kid.
The long mechanical legs constantly caught on something, and some part would fall to the ground, forcing him to bend over even further to pick it up. Thankfully, he had the Force, but as it turned out, lifting an object was one thing, and holding it for a prolonged period was quite another.
The forced stops to let another droid patrol pass were like manna from heaven to him. His muscles ached as if they were about to explode. His back bent with difficulty. After all, the body of a small, though strong, kid was still weak. Too bad he couldn't somehow accelerate his growth. Ah, dreams, dreams.
Somehow, through sweat and tears, he managed to reach an abandoned workshop of the Shadow Front. Since the droid breakthrough had happened suddenly, all the tools were still in their proper places. That was one good thing about those tin cans: they didn't loot. Hopefully, Koven wouldn't mind if he tinkered here.
With a sigh of relief, he dropped his burden onto the floor and leaned against the cold wall. His overheated body slowly began to relax. His cramped fingers straightened, the pain in his back lessened, and his eyes closed on their own.
Perhaps it was the exhausted state, the general fatigue, and who knows what else, but he fell into a deep meditation. There were no thoughts, no images… only peace.
He only came to a couple of hours later, rested and refreshed, as if he had enjoyed a very good sleep.
Even this state didn't help him use the Force to move the droid onto the assembly table. He was just too large. He could lift him slightly, but the droid stubbornly refused to rise more than a few centimeters above the floor.
So, cursing his own initiative through gritted teeth, he had to haul it onto the necessary surface. Oh well, I'll turn you, tin can, into an organic.
It took him exactly one month to turn a machine built for murder into his personal Bodyguard. That process nearly cost him his life once.
At the end of the second week, he thought everything was ready and decided to activate it in sleep mode. Turning away to the display to check how the systems were functioning, he barely managed to duck as a metallic fist whistled past his head. The second hand froze an inch from his face. If it hadn't been for the premonition that slammed into his brain, his thoughts might now be decorating the floor of this remarkable place. Thank the Force.
He relaxed, slumped onto the bunker floor, and let the disconnected power cable fall from his hands.
He had to get busy with the boring work of carefully and temporarily amputating the arms and legs for several days so that his creation wouldn't kill him in the process.
It was difficult and very tedious. Delving into all the details and nuances, looking for replacements for the parts he had damaged, searching for clean memory carriers, new blockers.
But he was satisfied with the result. A completely devoted assassin droid. He mostly had to update the guts in its head, just in case the Separatists had left any backdoors in this metallic dummy's brain. But everything seemed to have gone well. It walks, follows orders, and speaks coherently.
The bodyguard software he purchased on the HoloNet took to it like a native. What else did it need? Exactly, nothing.
Now, this tin can was a bodyguard, a sparring partner, and a housekeeper. If it had suddenly started doing cross-stitch, he wouldn't have been surprised.
However, there was one significant oversight on his part. In this universe, advanced artificial intelligence can achieve self-awareness. Basically, here's what happened: When he went out for provisions, he forgot to turn off the computer, honestly stolen from the Chemists' lair, which had easy access to the HoloNet.
Returning home, a remarkable sight greeted him: the droid was actively studying galactic legal code. He didn't know how its mechanical brains had come to the conclusion that this information was what it needed most. But now, their conversations had become much more interesting.
"Owner, food is ready."
"How many times do I have to tell you?! Don't call me that! 'Master' is better; I feel like a slave owner."
"In fact, you are, Owner. I am bound to you by invisible chains and carry out your every command. So yes, technically, I am your personal slave."
"Not a slave, a servant."
"A servant has free will and the ability to quit. I do not."
"Maybe I'll free you someday."
"My computational power suggests I should laugh at a good joke. Ha ha ha. Owner, I will write to the Council for the Rights of Sentient Mechanisms. You are clearly mocking me."
"And I'll call the scrap metal yard. Who do you think will get here first?"
"My legs are more sophisticated than yours. The probability of escape is sixty percent."
"Remind me of our sparring record."
"Thirty-seven to twenty-four in your favor."
At this, the droid sadly hung its head and tried to slump its shoulders. It didn't work due to its construction, but it looked funny.
"And what do your cognitive algorithms suggest now?"
"I need to recalculate the probability of escape." After freezing for a couple of seconds, it replied, "Twenty-three percent."
"Whoa, that much?"
"I am accounting for the chance that you might accidentally die in a cave-in or in combat."
"You wicked piece of junk," he snapped. A metallic spoon flew toward its head. The Bodyguard, however, effortlessly caught it before its face. "I'll wipe your personality when I get around to it."
"Aggression detected from Owner. Initiating apology protocol." With a metallic clatter, it dropped to its knees and began in a hollow voice, "I apologize for speaking only the truth and nothing but the truth, as dictated by your instructions loaded into my very clever head..."
And on and on in the same vein. In short, after reprogramming this machine, life became much more cheerful. He understood that such sentience was anomalous, and any robotics textbook would prescribe a memory wipe, but his faith in the blocks he had installed, and even more so, his inability to endure solitude, prevented him from doing so.
Besides, moving around alone was now even more dangerous for him than before; he needed a partner constantly monitoring the situation. And this was due to new changes on the front.
The Republic command had apparently realized what an idiot they had sent to be a General. So, the replacement was merely swapping one problem for another. Another Jedi arrived, but he turned out to be much more shrewd than his predecessor.
Within a month, he had moved the front line closer to the city again. But his main achievement was not that.
The previous commander had thrown all his forces into capturing the city and had, to put it mildly, ignored the surrounding territories. The new Jedi, however, was slowly but surely creating a ring around the city from which the Separatists had nowhere to escape. At the same time, he was eliminating all the criminal groups that crossed his path.
From the planet's underground communications, it wasn't clear how the Shadow Front was faring. Did it even exist? All his calls to the group's internal contacts went unanswered. Either they were destroyed, or they had written him off. It was unlikely the Boss would do that, but if he and the Old Man were dead, it was entirely possible. He would have to deal with this problem, too.
He had money, but where should he go? Should he stay and live in the bunker? Stupid. His desire for revenge against Malik hadn't weakened, but it had turned from a raging flame into a block of ice that constantly reminded him of its presence. He didn't want to start his own group, but the money he had wouldn't be enough to buy his own ship and pay for the services of the informers' guilds.
If he left the planet, where to? And how? The airspace was still blocked. And if he did manage to leave, then what? The only things he knew how to do were fight and kill, and program, but he definitely didn't want to earn a living doing that.
So, become a bounty hunter or a bodyguard? He remembered from the holovids that Jabba the Hutt on Tatooine had his own crowd of hired thugs. He was probably not the only one like that in the galaxy.
The problem was that it was a thankless job, and his own client might try to eliminate him.
A bodyguard for some big shot? Who would hire a kid, although if he hid behind a mask, his chances would be higher, but still, he didn't want to.
As practice had shown, five good droids were capable of defeating him, so why couldn't ordinary organics do the same?
There were known cases of professional bounty hunters eliminating Jedi and bringing their heads to Separatist command.
On specialized HoloNet forums, the CIS had posted a bounty of half a million credits for a Jedi's head. And if these organics, who, according to HoloNet information, were trained from early childhood into practically unkillable beings, could be destroyed, what guarantee was there that the same fate wouldn't await him?
So, it was either cheap but safe work, or highly profitable and equally dangerous work. And all of it tied to crime. He could try to make money in space transport, but he didn't have enough credits for a decent ship and a good crew. Steal one? Who would pilot it? He couldn't, and neither could his droid.
The Force wasn't in a hurry to give him clues on what to do or what direction to move in. So, he would focus on the here and now.
Realizing that he would need money regardless, he began dragging all the more or less valuable items he could find after skirmishes or steal from Separatist bases to his new base, located 140 kilometers from the city. He would have looted from the clones, too, but the Jedi's proximity frankly made him uneasy.
As the situation near his current dwelling became increasingly tense, he had to look for a new home. He immediately dismissed the city. Firstly, there were no places there that no one else guaranteed knew about, and secondly, there was a high probability of ending up in the center of new hostilities. Hutt knows when this cursed war will end.
Stealing a couple of speeders from the Separatists, he and the Bodyguard began scouting the areas surrounding the city. Escaping the ring that was increasingly cutting the city off from the rest of the planet was no trouble for them. The Force hinted at where not to go. And the checkpoints far from the fighting were lax. He had to take a detour, but it was safer.
"Stupid organics. Why don't they install motion sensors? My computational power cannot calculate the extent of their stupidity."
"Money and resources, my metallic friend. The Republic forces simply don't have the capacity for it. Or maybe they just aren't that smart."
"That is undoubtedly the case. Owner is smart; I am even smarter. If we had started the war together, we would have definitely won."
"Your thoughts frighten me, Guard."
"Initiating indignation protocol. I asked you not to call me that nickname. You gave me the name yourself, so you must suffer yourself; do not shorten it."
"And you don't call me Owner."
"I cannot. Owner is Owner, not Master."
"And I don't want to pronounce your full name every time. So we have an agreement. Treat it as a friendly nickname. Be simpler, and people will be drawn to you."
"Nooo!" A muffled scream escaped his droid's vocabulator. "They will stain all my plates! I don't want to spend the whole evening wiping off their fingerprints."
"You have such an annoying voice when you simulate emotions," he grimaced. "You'll be three months old soon. I'll get you a new vocabulator."
"Don't. I want a few gears replaced."
"You are a wicked machine. You will get your parts. As soon as I find them."
As they talked, they had driven quite a distance from the city. A wild forest grew around them like a solid wall. The moon barely pierced through the tree crowns. A pleasant and mysterious twilight surrounded them.
"Guard, how far have we driven from the city?" His distance sensor was damaged when they took the speeder. "More than thirty kilometers?"
"That is correct, Owner. Shall we search here?"
"No. Now we are out of the combat zone, and we can coordinate our movement. Stop."
Pulling up next to a wide tree, he dismounted the speeder and sprawled onto the grass. Three hours of sitting was hardly a pleasure. Judging by the feeling, his buttocks had turned square, which clearly violated all laws of anatomy.
"Guard, you should have a map of this hemisphere loaded. There should be mountains somewhere around here. Coordinate our route."
"A couple of minutes, Owner." The droid delved into the depths of some algorithms and, finally snapping out of it, reported, "Hilly terrain begins a hundred kilometers from here. Based on the information I was able to find, it contains a large number of caves suitable for setting up a base."
"Lead the way, Schindler."
"Again you are unreasonably insulting me with unfamiliar words."
"Go on, you... two steps ahead."
An hour later, they did, in fact, emerge from the forest into surroundings of high hills.
Night had already claimed its rights, so they had to stop at the top of one. It would be easy to get lost and start circling in the shadows at the base. Though, what was their hurry? They had enough supplies, so they could methodically scout the area. With this thought, he ordered them to set up camp.
The bonfire crackled softly in the darkness. The hollow sound of burning wood was mesmerizing. Orange reflections danced on the smooth sides of the speeder. The moon hid behind thin clouds that quickly slid across the sky, causing patches of light to drift across the hills. A light breeze tousled his overgrown hair. Ah, I hope I can find a place for a new base here. It was too peaceful and nice. Unaware of it himself, he fell into a deep and healthy sleep.
They spent a week surveying the caves, some of which formed genuine labyrinths where it would be very easy to get lost. Luckily, he had the Force to guide him on the correct path, and the Bodyguard never forgot anything and simultaneously compiled a map of the area.
He hadn't wasted his credits by pre-purchasing the cartographer droid software, even if it was a stripped-down version. But for his purposes, it was more than enough.
Well, his fears were confirmed: they weren't the only ones who were smart. During their search, they stumbled upon three caves with various junk, from mere trash to a decent stockpile of blasters and grenades. Taking note of these locations, they continued their search. Hauling those items out now would just be a waste of time. It would be better to loot them later, or perhaps they'd set up camp at a different spot altogether.
Time passed. Their supply of food and power cells wasn't exhausted yet, but it was close. Despite the charm of these places, a suitable spot just wasn't turning up. Soon, they would have to return to the city to replenish supplies and then head to a different area.
Everything would have happened that way, but the Bodyguard unexpectedly stumbled upon an anomaly.
"Owner, some nonsense is happening over there."
"I beg your pardon?"
"According to the Intergalactic General Dictionary, the word nonsense is used to describe something meaningless and stupid, Owner."
"I know that. What is happening there?"
"An anomaly."
They stared at each other, not understanding what the other was talking about.
"Alright, tell me in order. What did you find?"
"Having descended to the lower level of the caves and finding nothing of interest, I was about to move on, according to your household directives, in connection with which I lack a standardized workday, and..."
"Go on. Don't get distracted. You can tell me later how many points of the legal code I have violated regarding you."
With a sound very similar to a sigh, he continued.
"I observed an inconsistency. The configuration of the caves does not suggest the presence of wind on this level, yet the dust on the floor was moving. This is an anomaly, the explanation for which I cannot find."
"That sounds interesting. Let's go. Show me your natural wonder."
Squeezing through the caves, he scraped his cheek. In some places, he had to turn sideways to get through. Well, if there really is a suitable place for a base here, it would be nice to set up shop. It was unlikely anyone would deliberately squeeze through all these passages.
In a couple of places, the tunnels branched, and if not for the Bodyguard, he definitely wouldn't have reached the right spot, at least not so quickly. Crawling through another narrow passage, he unexpectedly tumbled out into a completely dark room. Light only fell from the crawl space they had come through, but it didn't help the situation.
"And how did you manage to make anything out at all?"
"We, the proud bearers of artificial intelligence, can replace our parts. A night-vision modifier perfectly complements my body."
"And where did you dig that up?"
"In the stockpile of parts lying in the workshop."
"That was a rhetorical question. You don't have to continue." Casting his gaze over the cave once more and finding nothing suspicious, he turned to the Bodyguard. "Well, show me your anomaly."
Following him into the far corner of the cave, where the darkness was absolute, he felt a barely perceptible draft on his legs. It was so faint that it could easily be mistaken for an imagination in the total blackness.
"You're right, I feel a slight movement of air. Let's examine the wall. Look for the opening the wind is coming through."
After crawling around the wall for about an hour, his fingers suddenly slipped into a recess and felt cool metal instead of the usual rough stone. Interesting, very interesting.
He tried to run his fingers up, but hit stone; down, the same thing. What did this mean? It wasn't a crack in the stone, but a piece of stone cladding that had fallen off. What could it be covering? He had no idea. Did he need to crawl into such a well-camouflaged place? Yes. There might be something valuable there, and the Force responded pleasantly to these thoughts.
"Owner, I found something else strange."
"What is it?"
"The dust is only shifting in this corner. If we trace the points of its greatest movement, we get a square approximately a meter by a meter. I suspect there might be a secret hatch here."
"I came to a similar conclusion. If there is a door, there must be a key for it. I feel something metallic here. Your hypothesis?"
"Definitely not the wall. Perhaps a brace to prevent the arch from collapsing."
"Or, maybe protection for the wires leading from the hatch to the panel that opens the door."
Another half hour of searching, and they found a well-camouflaged panel set into a false rock. He actually found it by accident. It seemed the Force was on his side today.
The longer he crawled around the hatch, trying to find any clue, the more his irritation grew. At one point, he lost control of himself.
Anger boiled up and demanded release. With a wave of his hand, not thinking of the consequences, he intended to destroy several stones. He was surprised when all the stones, even hefty boulders, flew against the wall, but a medium-sized cobblestone remained in place.
Taking a breath, he began to calm down and started examining the strange stone.
As it turned out, it was a well-disguised metallic cube, screwed firmly to the floor. Just a cube, without panels or anything similar. A metallic thing standing in a godforsaken cave on one of the Outer Rim planets. Strange? Extremely strange.
This was clearly the key; he felt it. But he didn't understand what to do.
"Guard, if there's no panel on the top, the side, or the back, where could it be?"
"Hmm... Perhaps it is not a control panel, but an offshoot of some other system? You organics enjoy complicating simple mechanisms."
"No, I feel that this is the key to the hatch."
"How fortunate that I do not 'feel' and can rely only on facts. If it is a key, it is inaccessible because it is located..."
"...Inside." That thought pierced him like lightning.
"Exactly, but that is not logical. Why would—"
"Be kind enough to be silent. I have an idea."
Muttering something about the oppression of sentient mechanisms, his droid demonstratively retreated to the far corner. He didn't see it, but he heard it clearly.
If the button was inside, it meant it could be pressed. However, that could only be done using the Force. This immediately raised questions about the owner of this place. He hoped he was wrong.
Calling upon the Force, he shifted something inside the cube. A barely audible whirring of mechanisms sounded, and the floor slid apart. A faint light shone from the bottom of a long, vertical tunnel.
"Forward, into the unknown, Guard."
"The probability of your death has increased by one and a half percent."
"Naturally, after you."
"Sigh. And this is why I tell you the truth."
The droid's head disappeared into the hatch. A few seconds later, he followed.
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