"No."
"I beg your pardon?"
For a moment, Dorian Kuat's jaunty mustache twitched upward, like in the old cartoons of my first life. Comically raising his eyebrows and artistically covering his mouth with his palm, the younger brother of the head of the eponymous corporation even backed away from me a couple of steps, staring in disbelief as if at a curious little animal.
"Sam," Dicker's reproving voice sounded nearby. Though he tried to speak softly, I clearly felt the steel notes of displeasure. Rick was obviously certain I would jump at such an opportunity, and my quick refusal had thrown him off balance, just as it had Dorian. "There's no need to be so categorical..."
"Rick, I understand everything... but dragging my people into the corporate squabbles of the Kuat family? We aren't that kind of high-flying birds." Crossing my arms over my chest, I survey both interlocutors with a grim gaze. "One mistake and nothing will be left of the Helldivers. And I'm not sure a different outcome awaits us even in the event of success."
"You are dramatizing, Mr. Sam Altman." Smoothing his mustache, Dorian snatched a glass from a nearby table and, hiding the lower half of his face behind it, spoke in a much bolder and more familiar tone. "I must admit, I expected something else... especially after all those daring and incredible rumors about you and your team of cutthroats."
"These squabbles aren't our level. Kuat, Techno Union, Trade Federation..." Seeing the eyelids of both men flicker, I forced a crooked smile. "No need to take me for a complete idiot. I know who you want to pit me against, and my answer is 'no'..."
"Hm, if you understand it yourself, then you realize that conflict with the Traders is inevitable. Though the board of directors restrains the ambitions of the current Viceroy, it won't last long." Swirling the liquid in his glass, Dorian stepped closer to the panoramic window, forcing us to follow him. "Besides, no one is saying you have to fight the entire Techno Union and the entire Trade Federation, only certain representatives of them..."
"The structure of these corporations is not uniform, Sam." Dicker intervened in Kuat's speech. Standing at my other shoulder, Rick breathed his signature cigarettes in my direction. "The Federation's Board of Directors is against conflict, and they won't interfere if you punch Viceroy Gunray's henchmen in the teeth..."
"And the Techno Union Elder won't be distracted by one of the hundreds of corporations in their union that supports the Neimoidian. Gunray has too little power and influence in his own organization right now, let alone in a giant like the Techno Union." Dorian took the baton back. This pair acted so synchronously and smoothly that I began to have suspicions. Or was it just very good improvisation?
"And? I still haven't heard why I should care about any of this."
Not particularly hoping for an answer, I also began to survey the stunning panorama of space outside the window... specifically, the huge eight-kilometer ship hanging against that very panorama. A true marvel of engineering, a monster in the world of the space fleet, a Mandator-class Dreadnaught.
"Eh..." Seeing my complete lack of interest, Rick definitely exchanged a look with his foppish accomplice from the Kuat family. "Let's be frank for frank, Sam."
Moving away from the window, Dicker summoned a drone with a snap of his fingers, and it promptly set up chairs and a small table by the window so we could continue the conversation and enjoy the local treats right here.
"Hm, Mr. Sam Altman, you have relatives..." Dorian tried to start his spiel again, but I simply turned away from him toward Rick. The old investigator frowned dangerously, but seeing the healthy dose of indifference in my eyes, he exhaled tiredly.
"You don't change, and yet so many years have passed... Fine. What do you want, Sam? I know you've already come up with a price, so tell us and then we'll talk business."
"What do I want?" Pensively looking over both of them, I return my gaze to the window. Noticing the movement of my eyes, both of my interlocutors gasped in surprise, and while Dorian was able to restrain himself and only responded with a sly smile, Rick couldn't help himself.
"Aren't you being a bit too bold? That's way too much for a small gang of mercenaries, as you said yourself." Poking a gnarled finger at me, Rick fiercely downed his drink. "Maybe you want the rank of Judicial Forces general too, and some Kuat and Corellia shares while you're at it?"
Cheerfully shrugging, I return to the expensive-rich food, which I clearly won't be able to afford again anytime soon. There was basically everything here that one could get from the galaxy, and only an idiot would miss such a moment...
"I won't say I'm surprised by such an answer, Mr. Sam Altman." Winking at me with one eye, Kuat popped a couple of shrimp from the planet Dac, famous for its sea harvests, into his mouth. "And I'll answer right away that even if you captured Coruscant for me and took the entire Senate prisoner, I would not be able to hand this ship over to you. But!"
Seeing that I wanted to laugh, Dorian raised a finger instructively. The man clearly looked pleased with himself, and I didn't like that.
"I cannot promise you a Mandator... but Kuat Drive Yards can build you another ship. Perhaps not as large and not as expensive, but still." Damn, Kuat's voice turned into a devil's whisper that crawled right into my soul. "You have your own fleet, after all, and it grows day by day. I'm sure such an armada wouldn't mind a worthy flagship."
Pursing my lips, I quickly turn back toward the window, but judging by the merry smiles of the pair of bastards across from me, my maneuver did not go unnoticed.
"Are you sure the Techno Union and the Federation Directorate won't intervene?"
Greed will definitely be the death of me, but just hearing Dorian's words, I already knew I would agree, because I also wanted a huge, kick-ass ship that would carry the seeds of Liberty throughout the Outer Rim.
But jokes aside, because the ship is good, of course, but the fact that Kuat would build it for me is much more important. That fact alone would be enough to finally get rid of many of the viper nests all over the outskirts. Pirate stations, entire planets with slaves and drugs, cartels, syndicates... Kuat's name would stand behind me, which would greatly untie my hands and allow me to put some pressure on the senators through Rick...
Glancing at the former investigator, I knew from one look that we were thinking the same thing. The sly squint of his old eyes promised me support if I finally stopped acting like a schoolgirl at prom and agreed to the deal.
"... These are just small companies. My brother began an active rapprochement with them, expecting to gain access to the Trade Federation's cargo shipping through them." Dorian had been talking all this time, conveying to me the intricacies of the intrigues in the Kuat family, which I no longer cared about. "The Director, on the contrary, likes to settle matters through politics and diplomacy, not with ship cannons..."
"Fine." Interrupting the excited young man, I raise a palm in a stopping gesture. "Let's discuss the details."
***
In the corner of his grimy cabin, lit only by the dim light of a dull lamp, The Spider leaned over an old, battered table that had become something more to him than just furniture—it was his only space for reflection and torment.
"Zeta loves luxury, rich furnishings, expensive carpets, slaves, exquisite clothes, and well-trained servants... but all this is just a pathetic facade on a rotten foundation!"
Striking the table with his fist, leaving another dent in it, the cyborg sat motionless for a few seconds, then slid one hand under his cloak and began adjusting the settings in his own body. Minutes of silence dragged sluggishly in this gloomy and empty room, which was intended for only one thing—reflection and numerous attempts to calm down.
The walls of the once-ordinary cabin were saturated with the Dark Side of the Force. The white walls were covered with soot and traces of lightning and fire. Warped by temperature changes, the metal twisted and cracked, creating thousands of grotesque and eerie patterns. The light of the lamps had long since left this place, and only Darkness ruled over anyone who dared to enter here.
One table, an equally lonely chair... and nothing else.
"I, once a great warrior, engineer, and devoted servant of the Dark Side of the Force, am now frozen like a shadow-choked growth whose roots have grown firmly into the devastated soil of disappointment and betrayal..."
Yielding to an impulse, the former Bith tried to calm down, but only made it worse as the words left the speaker. A wave of force passed through the walls, bending them outward.
Looking at his metallic hands, marred by scratches and scuffs, he remembered his former capabilities and power. That pedestal of might, full of almost divine power... and now what? A pathetic, mutilated shell, forced to drag out its existence with the help of metal crutches and food supplements from an Arkanian mutant.
How could it all have turned out like this?
He remembered how his apprentice, driven by ambition, having learned all the secrets, struck him in the back. Then, The Spider was different—proud, strong, not even allowing the thought that his small, dim-witted pupil could do anything, and so he had let betrayal get too close.
"Stupid boy, thinking he is capable of handling the game I have played my whole life." Jumping to his feet, the cyborg paced nervously in circles around the room, leaving a dent in the floor with every step. "The allies, of course, also rendered me their 'kind' services. Cowardice and faint-heartedness—that was their choice. And here I remain in the void, torn from power, surrounded only by the whisper of memories of what I once was."
The Dark Side thickened around the cyborg. Shrouding him in a veil like a caring mother, just waiting for her beloved child to take the first and last step—giving himself entirely to The Darkness.
"I must regain power. I must rebuild my influence, my connections. Nothing can remain unattainable, and everything can be sacrificed!" Suddenly freezing in an unnatural pose, The Spider took his lightsaber from his belt. Spinning the hilt in his metal fingers, he slowly accelerated, feeling the flows of Darkness penetrate through the steel and reach his few organs.
"The first line in my new game has already been written." Activating the saber, illuminating the gloomy and eerie cabin with a crimson light, The Spider began practicing strikes, imagining the faces of his enemies under every blow. He struck faster and faster, gradually blurring and turning into an indistinct spot with a crimson streak. "Every step, every thought... I turn weakness into strength, as I once turned metal into weapons. All their plans, all their mistake is that they underestimated me! Considered me dead! Weak! Unworthy!"
The strikes only became faster. The power of the Dark Side grew, saturated with the rage and malice of its adept. The former Bith performed incredible things that his former organism was simply physically incapable of.
"Stupid boy..."
The saber turned into a wave of crimson, so fast did the cyborg spin it. Overloading his own systems, straining the mechanical parts to the limit while supporting the organic ones with The Force, The Spider suddenly froze in the middle of the room, performing a perfect thrust into the enemy's presumed heart.
"Soon. Very soon, I will have my revenge."
Deactivating the saber and hanging it on his belt, the cyborg dispersed the mist of the Dark Side that had gathered around him with a sweep of his cloak. A single desire of the former Bith was enough to calm down and recover.
With his chin tilted up with dignity, he immediately left the cabin and a few minutes later was sitting down across from his most important ally.
"Feel better?" Thoroughly chewing on the lekku of a Nautolan, Zeta Magnus greeted the cyborg without looking up from his food and tablet screen. The giant sat at a huge table, and servants scurried around him. In the corner, exquisite music played on some ancient and relic instruments from Coruscant. Next to the mutant stood a Twi'lek with a fan. Dressed only in gold jewelry, she tried to look anywhere but at the master's table, where a couple of her kin also lay, her face frightened and mournful.
"I'm fine..."
Hoping to move away from the topic quickly, the cyborg sat in a special chair that raised him to the height of the table. Lounging and crossing one leg over the other, The Spider surveyed his partner's feast with disgust and, with difficulty suppressing his irritation, asked the question that interested him.
"What news from the galaxy? How did our Banite friends react?"
"Hm, just as you predicted." Piercing a piece of Nautolan with a huge fork more like a pitchfork, Zeta Magnus blissfully sent it into his mouth, struggling to control his smacking and satisfied groans. "They clearly expect us to get involved in the conflict between the Federation and those mercenaries..."
Though the Arkanian tried to speak indifferently and calmly, the Force user felt perfectly well that the giant was barely restraining himself from growling. His stupid personal vendetta against some weaklings from the Outer Rim was almost touching, if it didn't interfere with their plans.
"You'll deal with them later; once we get rid of the Banites, you can bring all our might down on their little planets." His ocelli flashing displeasedly, The Spider felt the mutant's hatred toward him for a moment but did not react to it in any way, perfectly imagining what was going on in the head of this crazy creature. "Right now, it's much more important to get rid of another of our enemy's trump cards."
Pressing a few buttons on his datapad, The Spider sent a data package to his counterpart with a light flick of his hand. An incredible secret that had been kept for hundreds of years and which only a couple of people in the galaxy knew... was now sent by ordinary mail.
"Your awareness amazes me." Without voicing the question aloud, Magnus nevertheless surveyed his interlocutor pensively. The giant had suspected his ally of various dark dealings with the Siths of the Bane line before, but such revelations increasingly convinced him that sometime in the past, The Spider had been one of them. "It's a bit far from us... To avoid being noticed, we'll have to fly outside the Outer Rim. And take only drones with us... The Yam'rii clones are good and strong, but they don't take prisoners. The bugs pay for their strength with their brains..."
"I understand." Nodding conciliatorily, the former Bith himself understood that their new task was much more difficult and dangerous than leaking the Sith information network. "But the prize will be worth it..."
"That's true." Rereading the message again, Magnus leaned back in his chair. "Fine. We'll do it, but..."
"But?"
Catching the quiet "but" dropped at the end, The Spider abruptly leaned on the table, and pressure began to spread around him. Lately, he had been struggling to restrain himself in the presence of the cloner, and his daily whims, caprices, and madness were already getting on The Spider's nerves.
"I still want to do something about the Helldivers... Those little upstarts, cursed bugs!"
If only the metal mask that replaced his face could express all the storm of emotions the cyborg was feeling...
"Dreams, dreams."
Thinking about this melancholically, he leaned back in his chair again, calming himself and hoping that the stupid mutant would soon create a suitable body for him that could withstand the power of the Dark Side and not be inferior to metal in strength and maneuverability. With his knowledge in cybernetics and engineering, and Zeta's talent in genetics—they could create something amazing...
"I'll burn their worlds, destroy them! I'll cover everything in poison so that every moment they feel pain and despair, slowly dying and remembering the day they crossed my path..."
"Are you finished?"
His simple question and calm tone knocked Zeta off his improvised speech.
"What? Ha! No, I've only just begun!" the giant answered him defiantly and leaned forward slightly, clearly trying to look threatening.
"In any case, we will not intervene in the conflict. It's a trap, and I'm sure Plagueis or his new apprentice will be waiting for you nearby. Either themselves or by hiring worthy hunters to catch you."
"I know..."
"Most likely, all this redistribution of influence, corporate games, and the Federation's dissatisfaction are for show. The Muun has always been famous for such games until he got caught up in researching the Force. So I assure you, as soon as you just show up nearby, everyone will flock to your soul."
"I know."
"My plan, on the contrary, offers a nice alternative. To strike our enemies where it hurts and ruin their own scheme..."
"I KNOW!"
Striking the table with a heavy fist, Magnus stared at his overturned plate, breathing heavily. For several minutes, the giant recovered, not taking his eyes off the tabletop. His body shook slightly, and he himself muttered hoarsely under his breath.
But time passed, and while the cyborg enjoyed the music that had started playing again and poked around in his datapad, the Arkanian mutant looked at him with a clear gaze and asked a question in a perfectly sensible and acceptable tone.
"So, are we flying to Dromund Kaas?"
***
Read early on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan