I descended the ladder. From below, there was a distinct smell of sickeningly sweet decay. Given the absolute darkness surrounding me, it weighed heavily on my mind. Creeping into the unknown, where the stench of death literally permeated the air.
Yet, my hands and feet methodically found and grasped the rungs. The shaft we were climbing down was unexpectedly deep. For nearly a minute, we had been descending quickly, lower and lower.
The metal clang accompanying every movement of my droid was also nerve-wracking. If anyone was down here, they certainly already knew of our approach.
Finally, we reached the bottom of the crawlspace. How did I know? Simple. There was a sound, like something metallic hitting concrete. Freezing in place, I was relieved to hear the bodyguard's disgruntled grumbling.
"Are you all right down there? Still functional?"
"Certainly not thanks to your efforts. A rung came loose; I have to jump."
"Well, nothing serious."
"For you, perhaps, but I sustained a jarring impact when I fell."
"Then train more to improve your reaction time. Besides, you are metal; you don't feel pain."
He had no rebuttal, so he simply stood there, waiting for me to descend, his parts disagreeably creaking.
Landing softly, I assessed my surroundings. The Force was silent, but a small, persistent nervousness kept making me twitch.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness back in the cave, but here it only allowed me to see blurry, barely distinguishable silhouettes, which only created more tension.
"I see absolutely nothing, so come on, you magnificent piece of work, describe what surrounds us."
After a brief silence, the reply came:
"You will see for yourself in a moment."
Footsteps, a light click, and the room was illuminated by a faint white light. We had found a way in.
The lamps on the ceiling flickered, casting an uneven, weak light down the corridor.
"Right, let's go see what's here. Be prepared, there could be some very nasty surprises. It's unlikely anyone would build a base like this without bothering with security."
"Understood, understood."
We moved cautiously forward. A thick layer of dust, concrete fragments, and some kind of white residue muffled our steps.
The association that flashed through my mind was that we were walking through a subway tunnel: the rounded walls, the barely perceptible hum of machinery, the gloom encompassing the corners, all created a very unpleasant impression. It felt like stepping into a horror game where crowds of monsters were about to come pouring out.
Shuddering at the thought, I forced myself to focus on the here and now.
We reached the first doorway, which blackened the wall like the empty eye socket of a skull. Honestly, I didn't want to go in there myself. Gesturing for him to scout the room, I remained to cover the corridor.
"Clear," the dull metallic voice behind my back made me jump. I hadn't even noticed his approach. The layer of dust reliably muffled his footsteps. The silence was generally tomb-like, punctuated only by the sound of some instruments and nothing else.
"Let's move on."
Letting the Force flow through my body, I calmed down slightly, but the sticky, intrusive fear still clung to me.
The underground bunker resembled a mad scientist's laboratory. Deactivated medical droids, a persistent medicinal odor mixed with the smell of decay. The further we advanced, the stronger the latter became.
Opening another door, I nearly vomited on the spot. The scent I had been experiencing before seemed almost like a fresh forest aroma in comparison.
Inside the room were several human-sized containment tubes. They still glowed faintly with a greenish light. Numerous wall-mounted instruments blinked a warning signal, indicating a power deficit.
Behind the green film of mold that thickly covered the glass walls, something formless floated. It was impossible to identify what it had been, and it was the source of those miasmas.
Clamping my nose shut, I tried to get out of there as quickly as possible. Let the robot examine the room; it has no sense of smell, so no loss.
After an hour of cautious progress, we completed the initial inspection. Thank the Force, we were the only living beings here.
The facility was large, comprising a three-level system: four rooms on the main floor, designated either as operating theaters or laboratories; three rooms below, which housed the still-mysteriously-functioning generators (running on residual energy), that horrific room with the tubes, and a… warehouse? Above was the command center or control room, as well as a corridor that we decided to explore later.
The information stored on the computers interested me far more than the contents of the corridor. The technology looked familiar, but somehow... antiquated? It was like seeing an old push-button commlink; you generally understand how it works, but it looks strange in modern reality.
Given that I had never encountered such technology even in our backwater, it offered hope that this place had been long forgotten.
Activating the control panel, thank the Force no access code was needed, I began checking all the preserved files. Guard stood nearby, covering the entrance. Of course, we hadn't found anyone, but you never knew. There was always a chance something could go wrong.
There was little information, very little. Apparently, the previous owners had wiped all files containing their scientific research before leaving, making it very difficult to understand what had happened here. The only thing I could find during a superficial check was the date the base was put into sleep mode: over seventy years ago. No one had touched this computer since then. It was amazing how the power had even lasted.
If no one had used this lab for such a long time, it was unlikely anyone would ever return.
"Owner, should your facial expression be interpreted as joyful or menacing? According to my records, that is how sentient beings with strong mental disor—"
"Oh, shut up. Let me enjoy the moment. I think we've found a new home; we just need to clean it up thoroughly. Let's finish exploring everything. I wonder where we'll end up?"
"According to the technical documentation, the corridor leads to a hangar."
"And when did you find that out? Were you distracted from guarding the entrance, hoping I'd get killed and you'd be free?"
"Negative, Owner. Simply, over there," the metallic hand pointed to the right of the exit, where the indistinct rectangular outline of something was visible in the darkness, "a map of all floors is hanging."
"Well, since you're so observant, you lead the way."
The corridor ended at a set of blocked doors. They were apparently in disrepair due to age, as they showed no signs of life when the buttons on the panel were pressed. Well, I had my own "folk methods" for illegally entering secured territory.
Trying to push the doors open with the Force, I found that they barely moved, as if they had been welded shut from the other side. After two minutes of fruitless attempts to open the hangar, a strong irritation, soon escalating into anger, overtook me.
Slowly, but surely, centimeter by centimeter, I pushed those accursed doors until they ground open with a low, deep scrape.
I collapsed powerlessly onto the cold floor, trying to catch my breath. It was strange. The effort wasn't physical, but it left you sweating as much as a good hour of training.
"It is illogical to break your own property."
"I know, but I'm still satisfied with myself."
"Initiating protocol bewilderment. Human emotions remain a mystery to me. Logic dictates they are useless. Oh, what a disappointment."
"I'll reassign you to latrine cleaning duty," I waved him off. "You can express your thoughts to the waste disposal units."
"The veiled command to cease speaking has been received."
Finishing our spat, I stepped across the threshold into the hangar.
Well, this wasn't bad at all.
My gaze fell upon a room fifty by fifty meters. My faint hope of seeing an abandoned starship was dashed. After mourning the loss for a few seconds, I began to inspect the room.
The hangar doors were in the ceiling, and what lay beyond them was unknown. There was a platform in the floor, which presumably lifted a ship up to the hangar doors. I'd have to check where they exited. However, the whole place was completely dead; we desperately needed to thoroughly replace the power generators.
A couple of tool benches, devoid of equipment, stood in the corner; a few rusted parts lay on the floor. That was essentially everything in the room.
"An excellent find, my faithful, soulless friend. You'll get a promotion."
"Will you finally gift me the parts I have been requesting for so long?" He even attempted to imitate clapping in anticipation, which looked very amusing. I desperately require new finger phalanges, otherwise..."
"Stop, stop. You'll provide me with a list of everything you need later. I have a different promotion for you now."
"And what is that?"
"Henceforth, you are no longer Guard, but King."
The metal thing clearly did not appreciate my grand gesture. Turning its back to me and sitting on the floor, it hugged its knees and began to rock back and forth, simulating deep depression.
"Ungrateful droid. You'll get your parts. Now, let's get out of here. Great deeds await us."
The entire next month was spent setting up our new home. After purchasing a builder program for King, I assigned him to inspect the condition of the supports and wires, and to conduct a comprehensive diagnostic of the base.
Say what you will, the ability to upload any information directly into a droid's mechanical brain is incredibly convenient. The main thing was to ensure he didn't run out of memory space.
But I wasn't idle either. Property doesn't move itself.
This, incidentally, nearly caused us major problems.
At some point, my route was compromised, and I was apparently mistaken for a spy or some other criminal element. In short, with a single act of the Force, I managed to evade a Republic clone ambush. A few burn marks on the speeder, some lost cargo, and a wounded shin were unpleasant circumstances, but still things I could survive.
I had to find a new route, and now I could only travel at night.
I had considered commandeering a starship or transport and moving the belongings that way. But there were two problems.
First, the Republicans have excellent security and a Jedi presence, and if I flew a Separatist shuttle, I'd be shot down by the very same clones. Recently, they had begun destroying anything flying over the city that wasn't allied with them. The second, and more crucial, problem was that I simply didn't know how to pilot a starship.
So, I had to stick to the old-fashioned method, zooming back and forth on the speeder bike. The process became more manageable when I constructed a luggage rack. Granted, I couldn't manage to make proper fastenings, but if I didn't drive too fast, there was a chance not to lose my property.
Acquiring power generators became its own unique kind of entertainment. It was a nightmare. Everything in the city had been looted. The bunkers I knew of were either destroyed or had their generators stolen by their own people. Or perhaps under orders from the Boss, who knows. So, I had to steal a generator directly from a Separatist outpost.
For this job, I had to call on King for help. I wouldn't have dared attempt it alone.
The plan was as simple as three credits but could very well work.
The droid, of course, cursed me from head to toe and went off to lament his hard fate, but he carried out the order.
Disguised as a common Separatist droid, he infiltrated the outpost. After that, it was a matter of technique.
Half an hour later, my commlink beeped, displaying a map of the base with the positions of all patrols and the primary target: the portable power generators.
There was a risk he'd be discovered, but it all went smoothly. A hundred droids could be a huge obstacle for the two of us. You'd have to be quite suicidal to openly charge into a crowd like that. Now I clearly understood that, which was gratifying.
But everything went surprisingly smoothly. Running between posts and hiding in the shadows, I managed to discreetly attach the generators to two speeder bikes. Droids really are stupid; thank you, manufacturers.
Hiding behind some crates and watching the situation out of the corner of my eye, I tried to contact my droid.
"Hey, King. Receiving, can you hear me?"
"Yes, Owner."
"Are you ready?"
"Affirmative."
"Then initiate the explosive sequence."
A second later, several explosions ripped through the area near the main entrance. A siren wailed, reporting an attack; several columns of droids marched quickly toward the presumed direction of the assault. March on, my good fellows, march on.
Now we had a few seconds to escape in the general confusion.
We jumped onto the speeders almost simultaneously.
"We're leaving via the rooftops, as agreed!"
"Are you aware that you are insane?"
"No, but thank you for the high appraisal of my creativity."
We exchanged words while already moving at full speed, racing up the staircase on the speeders. We wouldn't make it through the main gate in time, so there was only one path left.
It was unlikely the engineers had assumed anyone would try to leave the base this way. That was the calculation.
The repulsorlift pads allowed us to ride on any surface. So the staircase was no exception. And from a certain perspective, a staircase is also a ramp.
Knocking down a couple of droids along the way, we leaped over the outpost wall. At that moment, I prayed to every deity I knew that we would land successfully. We'd calculated everything, but you never know.
The undercarriage scraped unpleasantly on the stones, but the speeder immediately leveled out and shot away from the base.
"Congratulations, Owner. Your plan proved successful."
"Of course it did. Did you doubt me—"
I didn't manage to finish. A red blaster bolt whistled right past my ear.
Several droids, identical to mine, deftly leaped onto speeders from behind the wreckage of a building.
The Hutts' mother!
The race through the city ruins was something unimaginable.
Swerving aside, I allowed several blaster shots to pass by, which continued to whistle dangerously close.
Signaling King with a gesture to split up at the intersection, I turned left, and he went right. The pursuers didn't falter for a moment, as I had hoped. As if they had always rehearsed this scenario, the group of seven droids split up.
Now, only four tin cans were on my tail. I had knowledge of the city on my side; they had numerical superiority.
I sharply turned into a dark gap between the buildings. The generator bumped plaintively against the wall but was still intact. I hoped they would drive past.
It didn't work. One shot past, but the others managed to turn. Only a second later, when a burning pain seared my shoulder, did I realize how foolish I had been. Now my speeder bike was wedged between the building wreckage, presenting an almost perfect target, as was my own body.
I once heard that fear provides strength. It's true.
Slightly swerving, I dodged the shots and used the Force to collapse the pile of stones behind me, which had been barely holding together. From the explosions, I knew it had worked, but a sense of danger, which made me duck, showed that I was wrong. One more pursuer remained behind me.
Breaking free of the narrow bottleneck, I took a sharp turn and veered toward a pile of debris, hoping to get lost in the stone labyrinth.
Actively maneuvering between the stone masses, risking a collision that would end the chase with my death, I prevented the pursuer from getting a clear shot. The distance was gradually increasing. A little more, and I'd manage to escape.
A shot that came from above nearly killed me. Only by a miracle did I manage to tilt my head, only losing a lock of hair. The control panel sparked; it was clear the situation was grim.
Another droid, apparently the one who had missed the turn, was sliding down the debris from above. Yanking the handlebars, I avoided being crushed by its speeder. Now we were moving neck and neck. I used my foot to push its bike, nearly slamming it into a concrete slab. But it still managed to correct itself.
Another couple of shots grazed my speeder, and I could literally hear the gears screeching inside my transport. Black smoke billowed from the machine's depths, making my eyes water and irritating my nose.
I had to do something! My pistol jumped into my hand. A few shots, and success, the pursuer buried itself in a pile of stones and disappeared in a flash of explosion.
But judging by my own situation, I might soon be joining him.
I barely managed to detach the valuable cargo, then pushed off with all my might and jumped. A bright explosion painfully hit my eyes, blinding me. Shrapnel scratched my cheek. The blast wave picked me up and slammed me hard into the ground, knocking the wind out of me.
A ringing in my ears made it impossible to concentrate; my eyes saw almost nothing. I distinctly felt blood oozing from several places on my body.
Fear, pain, and rage mixed in my mind, giving me the Force. Not as much as before, but now I could direct it clearly!
I sensed more than saw a speeder bike and a droid charging at me. There he was, preparing to press the trigger and riddle my body with shots.
I extended my hand toward it. A second later, the mechanical body soared into the air, compressing into a shapeless lump of metal. With my other hand, I directed the Force, keeping the bike from an inevitable collision with a pile of stones. Suppressing the urge to tear the droid into pieces, I took a deep exhale. I was alive, which meant everything was fine.
With a trembling hand, I pulled out my miraculously surviving commlink. I needed to get out of here.
"King, where are you?" Through the transmitter, I could hear the roar of the wind and the echoes of blasters. "Do you need assistance?"
"Owner, I am surrounded. The generator is destroyed, the bike is also destroyed. Requesting backup. I am on the rooftop, I repeat, on the rooftop."
"I'll be right there."
Attaching the generator with magnetic clamps to my new transport, I sped toward the useless metal thing. I'd grown fond of him, and so much money had been invested. It would be a terrible waste to lose him so foolishly.
The signal from the commlink was close. It took me four minutes to reach the half-ruined building. Abandoning the bike, I scrambled up the debris. Even from here, the red blaster shots coming from the roof were visible.
The higher I climbed, the clearer the sounds of combat became. A little more, and I could see what was happening.
My droid had taken cover behind a piece of a Clone shuttle wing and was trying to fire back at the attackers. But two tin cans were systematically pinning him down from both sides, preventing him from popping out of cover.
The darkness, which had not entirely left, surged with a new wave. Leaping out behind the CIS robots, I fired at the enemy's head mid-jump, but he swayed at the wrong moment, and the charge missed.
One of the enemies turned toward me; the second methodically fired at the cover where King was entrenched.
A flurry of red flashes prevented me from concentrating enough to destroy that piece of metal. I had to cover the distance in long leaps, simultaneously avoiding the deadly energy bolts that whizzed unpleasantly close to me.
The distance closed to a couple of meters. A vibro-blade hissed faintly, slicing the air where I had been just a second ago. But I was faster. A point-blank shot took the head off the shoulders, and the body tumbled sideways.
Catching the sword that fell from the weakened hands, I hurled it at the second droid, which didn't even have time to turn. The blade hit squarely in the center of its body. Rocking side to side for a couple of seconds, it fell to the floor like a broken puppet.
"Are you alive?" I shouted toward where King was supposedly hiding. "If not, say yes."
"Your illogical phrases will put me in the grave much faster than our enemies."
My partner emerged from behind the ship wreckage. He clearly looked battered. One arm had been shot off and was left somewhere unknown. Part of his chest was scorched with fire. My gaze was apparently too eloquent.
"And don't look at me with those eyes. My algorithms suggest that if you hadn't deleted some of the Separatist combat schematics from my memory, the probability of my victory would have been fifty-eight percent, not thirty-five."
"Aha, and there would also have been a non-zero probability that some hidden program would activate and command you to eliminate me."
Freezing for a few seconds, he replied:
"To my surprise, your statement finally carries impeccable logic."
"You are a machine; you can hardly be surprised."
"Currently, my programmatic deviations from the intergalactic standard are thirteen percent. In a normal case, it would be recommended to update the droid's memory."
"But you are confident I won't do that."
"Exactly. The loyalty chip will not allow me to disobey your command. Also, my survival index near you is higher than alone."
"What a mercenary and calculating machine you are."
"Thank you for the compliment, Owner. And now, if you'll permit me, I wish to obtain moral compensation."
Leaning over one of the droids, he made a quick movement, and the hand of the defeated enemy detached from its body.
"Finished dismembering your comrade?"
"He is no brother of mine, the Separatist scoundrel."
"What is this change in views on the political affiliation of droids?"
"Oh, that's a conversation for more than an hour. So I suggest we discuss it at our home."
"Agreed. Time to get out of here."
No one else pursued us, and there was no need to flee anywhere. Retrieving my speeder and attaching the two trophy bikes behind us, we slowly headed toward the city bunker. I needed to attach a new arm to that metal thing. How else would he paint the walls in the lair? One hand is inconvenient. Imagining the Bodyguard in an apron and with a kerchief on his head, I laughed out loud.
Time passed, and my plans increasingly took shape. King completely finished inspecting the new home and rendered a verdict: the condition was eighty-three percent satisfactory. With his own efforts and the necessary materials, he could raise that score to ninety-two, which was considered an acceptable level for permanent habitation.
With the addition of my vehicle fleet and King's release from inspection duties, the transport process went much faster. Some items had to be left behind, such as the droid assembly/disassembly table, the bed, and other large objects. But I figured that after the war ended, it wouldn't be difficult to install something similar ourselves.
Meanwhile, military operations were becoming increasingly comprehensive. The ring had closed, putting the city under siege. And with that, all our routes into the city were cut off.
The fall of the Separatist forces was a matter of time. Understanding this, the Confederacy of Independent Systems command attempted to break the planetary blockade from the air, but Republic forces repelled the thrust. Only a few transports managed to reach the planet. Victory was predetermined, but the fighting continued.
The planet became unsafe, even compared to what it had been before. After a pirate gang tried to seize two Clone frigates during the Separatist invasion, the Republic command decided to burn out all hostile groups.
So now, bandits, frantic at the prospect of imminent death, wrought chaos everywhere. Some, having taken massive doses of narcotics, charged into enemy ranks, imagining themselves invincible fighters. Some drank on skyscraper rooftops. Others tried to organize a resistance front or escape toward the upper city. But only death awaited them there. Droids were given orders to shoot to kill anyone who appeared in their line of sight.
Several groups had been smart enough to realize earlier that trouble was brewing and had organized an escape to remote regions, where they stayed, trying to keep a low profile.
King and I barely managed to slip out of the ring with the last batch of cargo for the lair. Even so, we had to escape a pursuit through the forest, leaving behind a speeder loaded with small parts. Just two days after that, we saw a well-fortified roadblock on our route and wisely decided not to engage in combat.
It was fortunate that by this time, most of the necessary items had already been moved to the new home. After such prolonged and constant moving, stealing, shootouts, and other affairs, returning to a normal rhythm of life felt like a miracle.
I slept for two days straight. The moral tension and the sense of threat, which had been growing daily due to the possibility of being trapped in a hellish cauldron, finally released their grip on me.
My usual routine returned: training, meditation, and programming study materials. A new item in my daily leisure was attempting to find out who owned this laboratory.
I had searched the entire facility, top to bottom, but found practically no clues. The instruments, though modern for their time, were far from unique, and there were no forgotten data on the computers or lost diaries.
The only clue was the bodies floating in the tubes, but I was reluctant to touch them. They looked too repulsive. Besides, something told me that opening a tube here would release a stench so powerful I'd die on the spot. King would probably be overjoyed, having surely factored that possibility into his calculations for my death chance. So, we simply welded the doors to the lower floors shut and installed ventilation.
Incidentally, that robot has become a professional housekeeper. I assembled a couple of barely working cleaning droids from the spare parts we brought to assist him. He actively commands them and takes a dynamic part in organizing the place himself.
Within a few days, the layer of dust disappeared, various debris was gone from the floor, and order reigned in the rooms. All the goods we brought found their places. We installed new generators in the basement, so now we had more than enough energy for the next year.
The hangar became the place for my training and my workshop. The rooms on the first floor became storage for various spare parts, reserve components, and similar junk.
The former command center deserves a separate description. It became a kind of recreation room. In addition to computers, we discovered a multi-functional table. You could read a droid's memory on it, display a map, or establish a connection. But most importantly, you could play games on it.
Learning this, I immediately downloaded the local equivalent of chess, Dejarik, I think, they played it on the Millennium Falcon in one of the films. No matter, King and I became thoroughly addicted. At first, I won, but then his mechanical brain rapidly began to catch up. In short, I wasn't bored.
Even such a significant event as the victory of the Republic forces didn't particularly move me. So, they won. So what? At this moment, I was completely indifferent to it.
More interesting thoughts occupied my mind.
The first point of the plan, acquiring my own home, could be considered successfully completed. But next, the question of the money needed to find Malik arises again. I could certainly get good money from selling the trophies, and the Jedi lightsaber could fetch half a million credits at some underground auction. Not the worst option, really. I'll save that for the case if I can't come up with anything else.
The second question that greatly concerned me was the discrepancy between reality and what I knew. Of course, much has been forgotten, but what my memory still retains. I know about the Empire, about Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, but I have no idea when the Empire will replace the Republic. Maybe it will happen in five years, or maybe even longer.
Where did all the Jedi go? According to the films, none were left. But two Sith couldn't have wiped out the entire Order, could they? The Jedi are certainly dying in the war, but not in such colossal numbers. And what will happen to those who feel the Force under the Empire? Right now, Jedi are actively traveling the galaxy, gathering new followers. Questions, questions to which I have no answers.
In any case, whether under the Republic or the Empire, I need money, and a lot of it. If nothing changes, I'll put the lightsaber up for sale immediately after the coup. If information reaches the Order now, they will surely send Knights after me, and I have no desire to fight them, or cross paths with anyone skilled in the Force.
It's decided: I will amass power and money, and at the first opportunity, I will put the lightsaber up for auction. Well, that sounds like a plan.
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