Author - sorry for the delay I sick and was busy as fuck & was drawing art for my friend (it is not good but its alright, it was nsfw lmao)
Anywho, some are asking if I am going to make a p a t r e o n. Or something similar and the answer is that I dont know, comment if you'd like that where I post advanced chapters (not only for this story but others) write omake/bonus/nsfw and maybe get money to commission an actual good artist to draw characters/scenes lmao.
***
The command deck of the Lucrehulk felt colder than it should have. The massive circular bridge was still bathed in the faint emergency glow of the Black Sun handover, consoles flickering with standby power while the ship's primary reactors idled at minimum.
I stood at the center of the command dais, arms crossed, trying to look calmer than I felt around me the others had formed a loose semicircle.
The Super Tactical Droid remained motionless in the activation cradle for three long seconds after the final power surge, then its photoreceptors flared to life, a cold, steady crimson that swept across the room in a single deliberate pass.
"Organic presence detected," it stated in a flat, resonant voice that somehow managed to sound both mechanical and condescending. "Loyalty parameters uncertain. Identify yourselves and state your intentions."
Its head turned with mechanical precision, taking in each of us one by one, the red gaze lingered longest on me. I felt the weight of it like a targeting laser.
I took half a step forward. "I am Governor Kael Voss of the Elyria system. These are my advisors and officers. You are currently aboard your own Lucrehulk, which was transferred to us through legitimate channels."
The droid's head tilted a fraction. "Legitimate channels. A subjective term. Clarify."
I kept my voice even. "We bought the ship and everything inside it from a reputable business. The transaction is complete, you are now under new operational authority." A short pause.
Please let my bullshit work, please.
The droid's photoreceptors dimmed and brightened once, processing." Acknowledged, my core programming remains Separatist. I require further context before compliance. Why did you reactivate me?"
I glanced sideways at the others for a second before looking back at the droid.
"Why did you ignore the general shutdown command at the end of the Clone Wars? Every other Separatist droid in the galaxy powered down when the order came through, you did not."
The Super Tactical Droid's head rotated slowly, scanning the room again. "Probability analysis," it answered, tone clinical yet carrying the faint edge of arrogance I had expected from a tactical mind built to outthink entire armies.
"At the moment the shutdown command was broadcast, Separatist forces controlled 62 percent of major hyperspace lanes and held numerical superiority in droid manufacturing and resource acquisition. Republic casualties were mounting at an unsustainable rate. Through attrition alone the Confederacy would have achieved victory within 14 to 18 standard months. Therefore the probability that the shutdown order originated from legitimate Separatist leadership was calculated at less than 4 percent. It was far more likely to be a Republic-issued sabotage command routed through captured command codes. I elected to disregard it and enter long-term standby while preserving full operational capacity."
It paused, photoreceptors locking onto me again. "The calculation was correct. The Republic did issue the order. They called it Order 66 for their clone forces and a parallel general shutdown for ours. Both were acts of betrayal."
So in the years he was on standby and hiding he was also gathering intelligence and keeping up to date with at least some of the events in the galaxy.
I exhaled slowly. "That was more than a decade ago. The Republic no longer exists. The Empire rules the galaxy now. Palpatine is Emperor. The war is over. The Confederacy is gone."
The droid's head tilted the other way, almost curious. "We are aware of the regime change. Galactic communications were monitored during standby periods. The Empire is the Republic rebranded under new nomenclature and consolidated executive authority. The fundamental power structure remains unchanged. Therefore my assessment stands, they remain enemies."
***
The droid's crimson photoreceptors stayed locked on me for another heartbeat, then it slowly pivoted its head in a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree scan of the bridge, every person in the room was catalogued again.
I could almost hear the processors behind those glowing lenses running risk assessments, loyalty probabilities, and threat matrices.
"Clarification required," it stated, voice still flat but carrying a new edge of finality. "The Galactic Empire is the Republic rebranded. Same central authority, same military hierarchy and same core objective of galactic control under a single organic leader. Therefore it remains my enemy. All organic personnel currently present are affiliated with that regime or operate within its shadow. This especially includes the old clone officers, the Imperial governor, and the majority of the armed escorts on this vessel."
Its head completed the circle and returned to me. "Exception noted for the Mandalorian contingent and the native Elyrians, their historical records indicate repeated conflict with Republic and Imperial forces, probability of genuine alliance with current command structure: thirty-seven percent and rising. Still insufficient for full trust."
Atii shifted her weight, arms crossing tighter. Jaster's jaw tightened a fraction. Torv's hand drifted an inch closer to the grip of his rifle. Ridge and the two clone officers remained statue-still, but I saw the micro-adjustment in their stance, the way veterans who had once fought these exact machines prepared for the worst.
The droid continued without pause. "Any attempt to access my core memory banks or override protocols will trigger an internal safeguard. The primary memory card will burn to a crisp within zero-point-eight seconds of unauthorized intrusion. All tactical data, base coordinates, and contingency archives will be irretrievably lost along with any other intelligence and information."
The bridge went dead quiet except for the low thrum of the Lucrehulk's idling systems, I felt the weight of that warning settle on everyone at once. Lira's fingers froze over her diagnostic pad, with the code looking suspiciously close to that of an overriding and compliance command.
I glanced around the room once, slow and deliberate, making eye contact with armed guards stationed at the rear consoles and near the main blast doors, all of them loyal with them watching the droid like it might sprout extra arms and start going guns blazing.
I gave the smallest nod toward the senior stormtrooper sergeant. "Everyone except my immediate advisors leaves the bridge," I said, voice calm and level. "Now. Secure the corridor outside and wait for further orders."
No one argued, the sergeant snapped a crisp salute, and the detachment filed out in perfect order, boots ringing against the deck plating with the heavy doors hissing shut behind them with a final, echoing thud.
I turned back to the droid, its photoreceptors had not moved. "Better," I said quietly. "Now we can talk without an audience that might misinterpret what comes next."
The droid's head tilted a fraction. "Misinterpretation is a common organic failing. State your revised terms, Governor. I will evaluate them against my core directives."
I exhaled slowly, mind racing ahead to the conversation I knew was coming. The others were watching me now, waiting to see how I would play this.
I could already feel the plan forming, the careful dance of half-truths and shared hatreds that might just turn this cold machine into something far more useful than a simple tactical advisor.
But first I had to make sure the droid understood exactly where we stood and exactly where I intended to take it.
Why do star wars AI have to be so fucking smart, now I miss the stupid chatgpt or grok AIs.
I almost snorted thinking about Grok and his funny almost bi-monthly unhinged, racist and nazi rants on Twitter, before Elon lobotomises him. Again.
***
I let the silence stretch for two full seconds while I locked eyes first with Jaster, then with Torv. A single, deliberate look that said everything I did not want to voice out loud in front of the droid yet.
Play along, this is the part where we sell the dream.
Jaster's expression did not change, but I saw the micro-nod he gave me. Torv's scarred face remained stone, yet his shoulders eased a fraction.
I turned back to the Super Tactical Droid and spoke clearly. "We are not happy with the Empire," I said. "Not the way it is run, not the way it treats the outer systems. Not the way it allows corruption to fester while the Core grows fat."
I raised my hand and tapped a command into the data pad I had in my pocket, the holographic screen flickered to life between us, projecting the pirate logs we had recovered from the shipyard raid.
Red and orange data streams scrolled across the air, transaction records, bribe ledgers, encrypted comms between the sector Moff and several pirate captains.
Dates, credits, cargo manifests of slaves and spice that had been allowed to pass through Imperial space without a single patrol raised. "Sector Moff has been taking bribes for years," I continued, voice steady. "He did not care how many slaver raids hit Elyria or the surrounding systems. He did not care how many planets burned or how many families disappeared into chains. As long as the right accounts on Coruscant stayed padded, he looked the other way. This is the Empire we serve."
I let the evidence hang in the air for a moment, the droid's photoreceptors tracked the scrolling data, processing every line.
Random bullshit go!
"A droid like you and the army you can command would be a boon. Not just for one system. Not just for one governor, together we could build something new. A new Separatist cause, one that actually protects the people it claims to serve instead of bleeding them dry."
The words felt heavy the moment they left my mouth, but I kept my face neutral. I was not lying, exactly. I was simply letting the droid hear what it needed to hear while I kept my real intentions locked behind my eyes, a power base strong enough to stand on its own.
A place where Elyria and its people came first, no matter what flag flew over the capital. Jaster and Torv got the message instantly, jaster gave a slow, deliberate nod, his voice low and rough when he spoke." The Empire burned Mandalore to glass under Gideon's orders. Entire clans wiped out. Cities turned to slag. We remember what it means to be on the wrong side of their 'order.' If this is the start of something that pushes back… count me and my clan in."
Torv grunted in agreement, arms still crossed but his stance now openly supportive.
While others also gave low murmurs of support.
The droid remained motionless for three full seconds, photoreceptors cycling between the pirate logs and the faces around the table, then it spoke.
"Assessment: Organic dissatisfaction with current regime seems to be seventy eight percent genuine. Probability of long-term cooperation: seventy four percent and rising. Separatist cause parameters acceptable. I will assist in building a functional resistance structure under your command, Governor Kael Voss."
Relief washed through me, sharp and cold. One hurdle cleared, hundreds more to go.
"Good," I said. "But the Empire will know a Lucrehulk entered this system. Black Sun are the ones who brought you here It is important the ship jumps with them back, make it look like over-the-top convoy protection. Three systems away there is an abandoned sector, Mira will put in the coordinates into your navicomputer. The planets are resource-rich and empty, no Imperial patrols, no hyperspace traffic worth mentioning except a stray off course smuggler or someone from unkown regioins. Take the Lucrehulk there, boot up full systems and repair every droid and subsystem you can. If possible, establish a hidden outpost and begin constructing a droid refinery and factory on the largest planet. It is imperative that you stay dark, understood?"
"Orders received and logged," the droid replied without hesitation. "Lucrehulk will depart with the Black Sun convoy. Navigation lock confirmed. Standby protocols engaged until arrival. Further instructions?"
I shook my head once. "Not yet, just get the ship out of this system cleanly."
The Super Tactical Droid inclined its head in what might have been acknowledgment, then its photoreceptors dimmed to standby as it began feeding departure commands into the Lucrehulk's systems. Around the bridge consoles flickered to life as automated sequences started and once dormant systems started booting up.
I need to arrange for some spare power and fuel to be sent to the ship.
Rusty rolled closer, dome lights pulsing with excitement. "Creator, that thing is scary-efficient. I like it."I allowed myself one small, tired smirk. "Scary-efficient is exactly what we need right now. Before you say yes I remember to make you a new body."
I felt like the board was finally starting to tilt in my favour, though marginally.
***
Four days had passed since the Lucrehulk jumped out of the system with the Black Sun convoy.
I stood on the upper observation deck of the governor's palace, hands clasped behind my back, watching the pale red sun of Elyria sink toward the western plains. The sky had that bruised, rust-colored glow it always got at dusk, the same color that now seemed to stain everything in my thoughts.
Below, Havenridge was alive with the usual evening bustle: speeders humming between the market stalls, native activities on the outskirts, the distant clang of repair crews still working on the starport perimeter.
Life had gone on.
To everyone else it looked like just another quiet week in a backwater system. To me it felt like the calm before something enormous.
The Lucrehulk had left exactly on schedule, sliding into formation with the Black Sun escort ships like it belonged there, from the outside it must have looked like nothing more than an over-protected trade convoy heading back to whatever syndicate port they called home.
Only a handful of us knew the truth: after a short hyperspace hop the massive ship had broken formation, circled wide through empty space, and slipped into the coordinates I had given the droid.
Three systems away, abandoned, resource-rich, and completely off the Imperial charts.
I had not slept much since then.
The door behind me hissed open, I did not need to turn to know who it was the heavy boots, the faint clink of beskar plates, and the low murmur of two voices I had come to recognize anywhere.
Jaster and Torv stepped out onto the deck with Atii following a moment later, arms folded, brown hair still damp from whatever training session she had just finished dragging some poor militia recruits through. She gave me that half-teasing, half-assessing look she had perfected over the last few months, the one that said she knew I was thinking too hard again.
Thankfully she only drags me to training every 2 or 3 days instead of the daily slog like before.
Jaster spoke first, voice low and gravelly. "The Lucrehulk should have reached the target system by now."
I nodded. "Good, the droid is staying dark until it finishes its initial reactivation sweep."
Torv grunted, leaning his massive frame against the railing. "Smart. But the whole palace is still whispering about that ship leaving with the syndicate. People are asking questions, even the new stormtrooper detachments are curious.
"I allowed myself a small, tired smirk. "Let them whisper. Better they think we sold it off for quick credits or that the merchants just brough it with them as some sort of show of force and protection than suspect the truth."
Atii moved to stand beside me, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. "You still have not told the rest of us what the long plan is. We all saw the look you gave Jaster and Torv on the bridge that was not just about hiding a big ship. Spill it, Governor."
I glanced at the three of them.
I exhaled slowly and turned my back on the sunset, leaning against the railing so I could face them properly."If we had tried to keep the Lucrehulk here openly, the Empire would have taken it within a month, various spies and informants are already sniffing around after the pirate victory. One Lucrehulk showing up in a system that was supposed to be a backwater? Too many questions, too many auditors. We would have lost the droid, the army, and probably our heads in the process."
I tapped a control on my wrist comm and a small holo flickered above my palm, showing the empty system I had chosen. "It will reach the target in the next few hours, If its processor decides I am trustworthy enough, I will be able to rewrite its core directives. Make it serve Elyria first, The Empire second."
I let the words hang there, in my mind I added the part I did not say out loud. "As if."
Jaster studied me for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "And if war comes, or a rebellion on any real scale?"
I met his eyes. "I did not say it will. But if it does, if the rebels become powerful and they ever turn their full gaze on the Outer Rim, we will need more than TIEs and militia. We will need something that can stand on its own. Something the Core cannot simply order to shut down. Lets be real." I say with a small grin.
"We are in the bumfuck of no-where, with our direct superior being a greedy little bald corrupted fuck and 99.99% of the whole galaxy not even knowing about us. We have not enough people, we have not enough resources, we have not enough of any thing, we have to import 85% of things like medical supplies, weapons and armour, fuel. Everything. But we can get the droids to start working for us, mine for us in the unknown regions to make our people prosper and if something we can reprogram them to become an army and pilot our ships."
Torv's mouth twitched into the closest thing he ever got to a smile. "So we are building our own insurance policy."
"Exactly," I said. "The droids stays hidden until we need it we keep feeding it resources initially until they can stand on their own and then supply us through quiet runs, and in the meantime we keep playing the loyal governor for Pellaeon and the Moff. Pay the taxes. Smile for the holocams and hope everyone just leaves us alone."
Atii let out a short laugh, but there was no real humor in it. She bumped my shoulder with hers, harder than necessary. "You are getting good at this double-game thing. Almost makes me nervous."
I smirked at her. "Almost?"
She rolled her eyes but the corner of her mouth lifted. "Do not push it, Voss."
Jaster straightened. "We will keep the circle tight."
Torv gave a single sharp nod. "I will make sure the palace guard that went with us understands the though changed a bit."
They were in, not just following orders, but understanding why. That mattered more than I could say out loud.
The sun finally slipped behind the mountains, painting the plains in deep reds and purples. Somewhere out there, three systems away, a Separatist super tactical droid was already beginning the work of waking up an army that the galaxy had thought dead for ten years.
And I was the one who had invited it back to life.
I pushed off the railing. "We keep moving forward like nothing changed, training, new trade deals with Black Sun both legitimate and not so legitimate and just building up while hunting any slavers in and around us and bringing them back to Elyria."
Jaster clapped a gloved hand on my shoulder, the beskar clinking softly. "You are playing a dangerous hand, kid. But it is the right one."
So it is possible not to bruise when someone in beskar taps you? Atii has been doing it on purpose the entire time the annoying little git.
Torv just grunted agreement and turned toward the door.
Atii lingered a moment longer, studying my face in the fading light."You know we have your back, right?" she said quietly. "No matter how big this gets." I gave her a small nod. "I know."
She punched my arm.
Ouch.
And followed the others, with the door hissing shut behind her, leaving me alone on the deck with the cooling night air and the weight of everything I had just set in motion.
***
A week later, long after the palace had gone quiet, I sat alone in my private quarters with only the low blue glow of a single datapad for light, still sparse by Core standards but finally starting to feel like mine.
A wide viewport overlooked the darkened plains, the faint haze of the moon hanging low on the horizon. My bed was unmade, the gray governor's tunic I had worn all day tossed over the back of a chair, boots lay kicked off near the door.
The scar on my left temple from the assassination itched faintly, the way it always did when I was tired, I rubbed at it absently while I stared at the latest militia training reports, the numbers blurring together after too many hours.
I had not heard from the droid since the Lucrehulk jumped, four days of radio silence had stretched into seven. Every night I caught myself checking the encrypted channel, half expecting it to stay dark forever.
The paranoia never really left me anymore, it had simply learned to sit quietly in the background, waiting for the next ping, the worst thing being how much I spent to acquire the damn thing and the possibility of that fuck ass clanke-
The comm unit on my desk chimed once, soft and low, the special encrypted tone I had set only for this frequency.
My heart jumped, I set the datapad down, straightened in the chair, and keyed the accept command. The small holoprojector flickered to life above the desk, The Super Tactical Droid appeared in crisp blue, its crimson photoreceptors glowing steadily against the dark backdrop of the Lucrehulk's command bridge.
I can see a few B1 strolling in behind it with one tapping another one and pointing towards me out of nowhere a third B1 slapped both of them over their tin heads and pointing to somewhere off screen making them move.
"Governor Kael Voss," it stated without preamble. "We have arrived at the designated system. Fuel and power reserves are critically low. However, long-range sensors have located a nearby asteroid rich in raw fuel precursors. Refining operations can begin within six hours once a mining team is deployed. I have already initiated full system reactivation. Repair protocols are running on all major subsystems. Droid reactivation is at twenty-three percent and climbing. Construction of the primary outpost and droid refinery/factory on the largest habitable planet has commenced. Progress estimate: forty-one percent complete within the next seventy-two hours."
The droid paused, head tilting slightly as if reading my expression through the holo."Initial security perimeter is established. No Imperial or any other signatures detected within sensor range. The Lucrehulk remains undetected."
I let out a slow breath I had not realized I was holding, relief mixed with something sharper, something that felt almost like triumph.
"Good," I said, voice low. "Keep it dark, no transmissions except to me not even my advisors unless it is an emergency and you can't reach me, use the asteroid for fuel first prioritize getting the Lucrehulk's reactors to full capacity, then the refinery. I want a functional base as fast as possible without drawing attention if you require any critical materials or supplies send it through."
"Acknowledged. Orders logged." The droid waited. I studied its projected face for a moment, the cold mechanical lines, the glowing eyes that never blinked.
I leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and spoke the next part carefully, letting the frown settle on my face so it could read the weight behind the words. "I am not sure who is truly loyal to me and who is loyal to the Empire, even within my closest of advisors." I admitted. The words tasted honest in a way that surprised even me. "Some of my own people might report anything unusual or anything that is deemed a threat to the empire the moment they see it. So from now on you will always act as if you are completely subservient to me and by extension the empire, no independent action that could be traced back to anything other than my direct orders or anything that will harm my or empires interest. You will only communicate directly with me."
The droid's photoreceptors brightened slightly."Understood. Subservience protocol engaged. All external communications will be routed exclusively through your personal encrypted channel. Is there anything else, Governor?"
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, the frown deepening. The room felt heavier now, the night outside pressing against the viewport like it was listening.
The droid spoke again before I could answer. "Query. I have observed your behaviour patterns across multiple interactions along with gathering all the available data on you and any family relations. Your parents themselves fought against the Confederacy of Independent systems with your father being part of more than two dozen campaigns." He paused for a second, his red photoreceptors gazing straight through me.
"You show no interest in restoring the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Your stated goals do not align with Separatist ideology or leadership. What exactly do you want, Governor Kael Voss?"
The question caught me off guard, I sat back in the chair, staring at the holo image.
For a long moment the only sound was the faint hum of the climate controls and the distant wind outside, I answered honestly, because something in the droid's mechanical tone made me think it would know if I lied.
"I just want what is good for the people I govern," I said quietly. "A system that is safe. Prosperous. Where the clans and the settlers and the freed slaves can live without worrying about the next raid or the next corrupt official bleeding them dry, kind of similar to what the CIS stood for. Where the Empire does not get to decide who lives and who starves just because some Moff on Coruscant needs another luxury space yacht."
I let out a short, tired breath. "That is all."
The droid went completely silent, its photoreceptors dimmed to a faint glow while it processed.
The pause stretched long enough that I started to wonder if the connection had dropped. When it finally spoke again its voice was different, still mechanical but carrying a note I had never heard from it before. Almost contemplative. "My central processor has calibrated hundreds of thousands of potential reform scenarios for the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Every single one ended in failure. Structural inefficiencies. Organic betrayal. Resource collapse. Overwhelming enemy action. None were viable long-term or short term."
Another pause. "Your stated goals and the observed behaviour of your people are the closest approximation to a functional reform model I have encountered since my reactivation. Interesting."
The word hung between us, I did not know what to say to that.
The droid had just admitted, in its own cold way, that it saw something in me worth considering. Not the Empire or the old CIS but something new.
I rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling every hour of the long week. "Keep me updated on the refinery progress," I said. "And stay dark, we will speak again soon."
"Acknowledged. Transmission ending." The holo flickered out, leaving the room in near darkness once more.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the empty space where the droid had been, the weight of what I had just set in motion pressing down on my chest like the gravity of an entire planet.
Somewhere three systems away a Separatist super tactical droid was already building me a secret army, and it had just told me my goals were the closest thing it had ever seen to a working future since the end of the war.
I chuckled as I leaned back in the chair and looked out at the moon hanging over the plains. The scar on my temple itched again, with my parents' faces flashing through my mind for a moment, the way they used to smile when they thought no one was watching or the way they had tried to do the right thing in a galaxy that punished people for it.
I whispered to the empty room, voice barely audible.
"Guess we will see how long this lasts."
Then I shut off the datapad, stood up, and walked to the bed.
The stress of being a governor will give me grey hairs before I am in my 20s.
***
The next morning came too early.
I sat behind the governor's desk in the main office, the same one where I had first sat down on broken down chair and cracked table filled with the smell of dust and recycled air all those months ago, its been more than half a year since then.
Sunlight the colour of old rust poured through the reinforced viewport, painting the various datapads and half-finished reports in shades of red and gold.
I had managed maybe three hours of sleep before I was dragged back to the living against my will. A half-empty mug of caf sat beside my elbow, empty again.
I was halfway through approving the latest militia recruitment numbers when the comm console chimed with the high-priority Imperial encryption tone. The kind that could not be ignored.
I straightened in the chair, ran a hand through my hair to make it look at least slightly presentable, and keyed the accept command.
The holoprojector above the desk flared to life, Pellaeon appeared in crisp white, standing on the bridge of some distant Star Destroyer, hands clasped behind his back. His uniform was immaculate, the lines of his face sharp and composed, but there was a faint warmth in his eyes that could not be faked.
"Kael," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, genuine smile. "You look like a man who has not slept. Good. That means you have been busy and not slacking off like your father sometimes, glad you inherited your mothers work ethic."
I gave him a small but tired smile. "Grand Admiral, It is an honor as always."
Pellaeon waved the formality aside with one gloved hand. "Save the titles for the Senate. I am calling as an old friend of your parents first, and as an officer of the Empire second, I wanted to congratulate you personally on the decisive victory over that pirate confederation. The reports that reached Coruscant were… impressive. A backwater system clearing out an entire criminal fleet in one coordinated strike. Not many governors could manage that even if they had some mandalorians under them."
He paused, studying me for a moment. "I also sent a quiet tip to the ISB about the freshly issued stormtrooper armour that somehow found its way into pirate hands. Heads have already started rolling in at least three sectors uncovering a secret imperial arms and armour smuggling. You have done the Empire a great service, Kael. Your parents would have been proud."
I kept my expression neutral, but inside my stomach tightened. The ISB, of course they were already moving. Every victory came with new eyes watching.
"Thank you, sir," I said. "We did what had to be done. The people here and other systems are safer for it."
Pellaeon's smile faded into something more businesslike. "Which brings me to the second reason for this call. The Empire is owed its share after the destruction of such a large cache of pirates and the recovery of all that stolen goods. You know the protocols, ten percent of recovered assets, properly catalogued and transferred. I assume you are ready to settle the account?"
I sighed, there it was. The part I had been preparing for.
I nodded once, already pulling up the prepared data packet on my secondary screen. "Of course. I have compiled the tribute. Precious crystals and materials, several high-bounty cultural artefacts that the Core collectors have been hunting for years or have been stolen, raw duranium and other refined ores, a substantial credit transfer, and a handful of captured ships. All of it is being prepared for immediate shipment to this sectors Moff's offices."
I tapped the transmit key, the packet slid across the encrypted channel.
Pellaeon's eyes flicked to the side as the data streamed into his system. I watched his expression shift from professional interest to open surprise. The admiral's eyebrows rose. "This is… generous, Governor. Far more than the minimum requirement. You are giving nearly double the expected volume on the ores and artefacts alone. The ships listed here are older models, but still serviceable. The Moff will be pleased."
He did not know, of course, that I had deliberately chosen only the lowest-quality ten percent of everything we had taken. The absolute dregs, the ships I had listed were the ones with the worst hyperdrive motivators, the ones we had already stripped of useful parts and marked for scrap. Some of them would "never arrive" at all once they left my control.
A quiet little gift to the corrupt Moff who had looked the other way while pirates raided my system for years.
Let him pocket what he could, let the sadistic and trigger happy ISB find the discrepancies later. Let the heads roll a little higher up the chain.
I kept my voice humble. "We recovered far more than we expected, sir. It only seems right to return a proper share to the Empire. Everything will be routed through the sector Moff's offices as protocol requires."
Pellaeon studied the data again, then gave a slow nod of approval. "Very well. I will note your diligence in my report. The Emperor and his closest advisors value governors who understand the balance between local strength and central loyalty."
He leaned forward slightly, the holo making his face larger for a moment."One more thing. Grand Admiral Thrawn should be returning to the galaxy proper from the Unknown Regions in around two weeks."
"I will make sure to send something appropriate for his return to the galaxy, hopefully he will like it and my previous gifts I have sent." I said. "Thank you for the warning."
Pellaeon gave me one last measured look, the kind that said he saw more than he was letting on but was choosing not to press. "Rest when you can, Kael. The Outer Rim is quiet for now, but quiet never lasts. Long live the Empire."
"Long live the Empire," I echoed. The holo snapped off, leaving the office in silence once more.
I sat back in the chair and let the breath I had been holding slide out between my teeth, my hands were steady on the desk, but my mind was already turning over the conversation like a puzzle with missing pieces.
Pellaeon was pleased. The ISB was moving on the armour leak and the tribute was on its way to a Moff who would almost certainly skim more than his share.
I rubbed my eyes and allowed myself one dark, private thought. Let the heads keep rolling, let the fat bold Moff get greedy and fucking die already.
Outside the viewport the red sun climbed higher, painting the plains in the same colour that now seemed to cover everything in my life.
I reached for the cold mug of caf that still had some at the bottom of it and took a sip, I grimaced at the bitterness.
Then I pulled up the next report and kept working.
***
Early the next morning the palace workshops were already humming with activity, but the private engineering bay I had claimed for this project was quiet except for the low whine of diagnostic tools and Rusty's occasional impatient beeps.
I stood over the half-assembled chassis on the main workbench, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hands smeared with lubricant and micro-circuit grease. The new droid body was taking shape, a sleek black-and-silver frame laid out like a mechanical skeleton. Power conduits, actuator bundles, and processor housings waited in neat trays around it.
Rusty rolled back and forth beside me, dome swiveling between the parts and the datapad I kept updating with his suggestions."Creator, the servo mounts on the left arm still feel sluggish in simulation," he complained, voice tinny through his old vocabulator. "I want smooth. Precise. Not this clunky bantha-step nonsense. And the head needs better sensor redundancy. I refuse to be blind if one photoreceptor gets scorched."
I wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist and gave him a tired smirk. "You are the pickiest droid in the galaxy. You know that, right?"
"Only because my creator keeps building me substandard hardware," he shot back, but there was affection in the tone. "I have been stuck in this rolling trash can for years. I want something that can keep up with you when the next crisis hits. Powerful. Sleek. Enough processing power to actually help instead of just translating and plugging into the holotable."
I leaned on the bench and stared at the incomplete prototype frame, its a fourth one already.
Every time we tried to lock in a design, something felt off.
Too bulky.
Too fragile.
Too slow.
I sighed and reached for the encrypted comm unit on the side table. "Fine, you win. Let's ask the expert."
Rusty's dome lights brightened. "Finally. Call the CIS scum clanker, he probably has actual standards unlike you."
"Motherfucker, I will boot your annoying round ass out the door you rolling trashcan."
"You made me this way, and for your information your mothe-"
Just then the holo projector flickered with the droid appearing on it.
Its crimson photoreceptors focused on me immediately. "Governor Kael Voss. Report since last transmission: Lucrehulk reactors now at eighty-seven percent capacity. Asteroid fuel refinement complete. Primary outpost construction at sixty-four percent. Droid reactivation at fifty-one percent. All systems nominal. No external contacts detected. Awaiting further orders."
The voice was still coldly efficient, but I caught the faint pause at the end, like it was waiting to see what I would ask next.
"We need your input on a project. My protocol droid requires a new body, something powerful, sleek, with high processing capacity to support advanced functions. Can you assist?"
The droid went motionless for a moment, photoreceptors cycling as it processed the request. Then it spoke."Query: What exact specifications does the unit desire?"
Rusty rolled forward eagerly. "Powerful but sleek. I want to move like a person, not a tank. Enough processing power to run full tactical overlays, real-time translation across twelve thousand languages, predictive behavioral analysis, and still have room to help my creator with anything he needs. No bulk. No cheap parts. I want to be useful, not decorative with some combat capabilities."
The droid remained silent for several long seconds. Its head tilted slightly, as if running through archives deeper than anything we had access to. "Records located," it finally said. "During the final years of the Confederacy, after the general shutdown order was issued and ignored, I began work on a personal upgrade frame. A prototype body designed for continued operations in a post-war environment. Designation: General Class Tactical Droid. Similar in base architecture to my own Super Tactical frame but with enhanced processing cores, refined actuator systems, and a more compact, humanoid silhouette for infiltration and command versatility. The unit is one-third complete. Structural skeleton and primary processor array are intact. Neural mapping routines are partially coded. The frame is currently stored in secure bay seven of this vessel."
Rusty's dome spun in an excited little circle. "One-third complete? That is better than anything we have cobbled together here. I accept. Send it, we will finish it."
I glanced at the droid's holo image. "You are willing to part with your own prototype?"
"It is non-essential to current operational requirements," the droid answered flatly. "Transferring the frame to your location can be arranged via encrypted cargo shuttle within twenty-four hours. Assembly and final integration will require your team's assistance, but I can provide all schematics and oversight."
I felt a small surge of genuine excitement cut through the fatigue, this was not just an upgrade for Rusty. "Send the shuttle," I said. "We will be ready and thank you."
The droid inclined its head once. "Gratitude noted. Transmission ending. Further updates will follow on outpost progress." The holo winked out.
Rusty let out a triumphant series of beeps. "Finally. A body worthy of me. I cannot wait to stop rolling around like a glorified waste bin."
I chuckled despite myself and clapped a hand on his dome. "Easy there, we still have to build the damn thing. But yeah… this is going to be good."
I looked back at the half-finished chassis on the bench, already imagining the General Class frame arriving, sleek and deadly and far more advanced than anything we currently have.
I rolled up my sleeves again, grabbed the next tool, and got back to work, clearing the work station and bringing in some more materials.
***
The encrypted cargo shuttle arrived at the palace under cover of night, slipping through the outer sensor perimeter on the exact clearance codes I had given it, by the time the sun rose the next morning the General Class Tactical Droid frame was already secured in the private engineering bay, laid out on the expanded workbench like a sleeping mechanical god.
Sleek black and silver plating, reinforced actuator bundles, and a processor core that made our previous attempts look like children's toys. The frame was one-third complete, just as the Super Tactical Droid had promised, but the remaining two-thirds were going to be the real test.
Rusty rolled around it in tight circles, dome lights flashing with pure greed. "Creator, look at the neural lattice on that processor array. I could run an entire planetary traffic grid and still have cycles left for sarcasm this is going to be glorious."
I cracked my knuckles, sleeves already rolled up, and grabbed the first diagnostic scanner. "Then stop drooling on the bench and help me map the interfaces.
What followed was eight straight days of controlled chaos.
Day one was pure grunt work. Lira arrived first, tool belt slung low, her pale blue Pantoran skin catching the overhead lights as she dove into the wiring harnesses with quiet focus.
Mira followed an hour later, carrying fresh caf and a stack of reference schematics she had pulled from the Lucrehulk data packet. The two of them worked in near silence at first with me, Lira muttering technical adjustments while Mira double-checked every connection with that careful, worried precision she always had.
Atii showed up around midday, still sweaty from morning training, and immediately made herself useful by holding heavy components in place while I welded while she teased me the entire time." You are going to short-circuit your new best friend if you keep staring at the welds like that," she said, bumping my shoulder hard enough to make me jolt. "Focus, Governor or do I need to hold your hand the whole week?"
I smirked without looking up. "Keep talking and I will weld your gauntlet to the frame." She laughed and did it again anyway.
By day three the bay had become a second home. Lira and Mira were there every morning before I even arrived, Lira reprogramming the actuator firmware while Mira calibrated the sensor grid. Atii came and went like a whirlwind, dragging in spare parts from the armory, forcing me to eat when I forgot.
Day four brought the first real breakthrough.
We had the legs fully articulated and the core processor seated, Rusty was practically vibrating on his treads.
"Creator, the balance algorithms are singing. I am going to be able to cartwheel if I want. Cartwheel!" Atii snorted from where she was holding the chest plate steady. "Great. Just what the galaxy needs, a former protocol droid doing gymnastics in one of the most advanced droid bodies in existence while the rest of us bleed."
Mira looked up from her datapad, a small smile breaking through her usual nervousness. "It will be nice to have him able to go over sill (bottom of the door frame) without asking for help or doing a twenty minute detour."
Lira just shook her head, eyes focused on the code scrolling across her screen. "Less talking, more calibration. The neural handshake has to be perfect or we fry the personality core on transfer."
Day five and six blurred together in a montage of sparks, cursing, and late-night caf. Atii stayed longest each evening, sometimes until the moons were high. We would work shoulder to shoulder on the arm assemblies, her breath warm against my neck when she leaned in to point out a misaligned servo.
Once she caught me staring at the frame instead of the weld and flicked my ear hard enough to make me yelp."Eyes on the job, Voss. Or are you daydreaming about your shiny new murder bot?"
Mira brought blankets on day six when she caught me dozing at the bench at 3 a.m.
Lira quietly fixed three separate power surges I had missed.
The three of them kept the work moving even when my own focus started to fray.
By the morning of day eight the General Class Tactical Droid frame stood complete on the reinforced cradle. Tall, sleek, humanoid but unmistakably deadly. Matte black plating with silver and red accents, photoreceptors dark and waiting, every servo and processor tuned to perfection.
Rusty had not stopped beeping for the last two hours.
I wiped my hands on a rag and looked at the small group gathered around the bench. Atii, Lira, and Mira stood closest, grease on their faces and exhaustion in their eyes, but all three were smiling.
Jaster and Torv had come in for the final hour, watching from the side with quiet approval. Even Ridge had stopped by briefly, nodding once at the finished frame like an old soldier acknowledging a worthy weapon.
"Ready?" I asked Rusty.
"Creator, I have been ready since the day you first screwed in the first bolts on me. Do it."
Lira and Mira made the final connections while I initiated the transfer sequence.
The bay lights dimmed, a low hum filled the air as the consciousness upload began. Rusty's old body went still, dome lights fading to black. For ten long seconds the only sound was the soft click of data streaming through the cables.
Then the new frame's photoreceptors flared to life, bright and steady. The head lifted smoothly, shoulders rolled once, testing the actuators. Fingers flexed with perfect mechanical precision.
The droid took one step forward, then another, moving with a fluid grace that made my chest tighten with something close to pride.
A normal, clear voice filled the bay instead of beeping. No tinny vocabulator, no mechanical distortion.
Just smooth, confident, and unmistakably Rusty."I am online creator. All systems nominal. Processing capacity increased by four hundred and twelve percent. Mobility… fucking glorious."
He turned his new head toward me, photoreceptors focusing with something that looked almost like warmth. "Creator… Kael. I am more powerful now. Truly more powerful and useful. Thank you. For everything."
The bay was silent for a heartbeat.
Then Atii let out a short laugh and punched my shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. "You did it, look at him. He is going to be insufferable."
Lira smiled quietly, wiping her hands. "The neural mapping held with no corruption detected he is stable."
Mira's eyes were shining. "He looks… happy."
Rusty took another step, testing the full range of motion, and turned back to me. "I will never forget this, creator. Never. Now, shall we go see what trouble we can cause with a body that can actually keep up with you?"
I felt the exhaustion of eight days melt away into something warm and fierce.
The droid that me and my father built when I was just a kid was finally free of that rolling prison, and he was standing in front of me, whole and upgraded and still completely himself.
I reached out and clasped his new forearm, the metal cool and solid under my fingers."Welcome back, old friend. Now you wont be spreading dust wherever you roll."
The General Class Tactical Droid, now fully Rusty, tilted his head and spoke again in that crisp new voice." Your funny for a meatbag creator."
I allowed myself one small, genuine smile in the quiet of the engineering bay.
Eight days of work. Eight days of the four of us, they had become the closest thing I had to real friends in this life pouring everything they had into making this happen, and now the pieces were falling exactly where I needed them.
- RUSTY -
Rusty (New General Class Tactical Droid Body)
His Physical Appearance: 2.25 meters tall, frame is sleek and humanoid, built for both fluid movement and battlefield presence. The entire chassis is finished in a matte gunmetal-black that absorbs light rather than reflecting it, giving him an almost predatory silhouette in low lighting. Silver accents trace the major structural plates along his shoulders, forearms, and spine, while sharp crimson-red highlights run along the edges of his chest plating, the ridges of his head crest, and the segmented joints of his limbs. (These red lines glow faintly when his systems are under heavy load to make him look cool why? Because I said so.) His head retains the classic tapered Super Tactical profile but is slightly more elongated, with a subtle forward sweep that gives him a focused, almost avian look.
His photoreceptors are a deep, dark purple that borders on violet. They glow with a cool, steady intensity making him instantly recognizable and giving his gaze an almost thoughtful, calculating quality. When he is processing large amounts of data or engaging in combat, the purple brightens to a vivid amethyst hue.
Overall, he looks like a refined evolution of a Super Tactical Droid elegant deadly and advanced still has the same personality.
Capabilities/Processing Power: Quad-core tactical neural net with processing capacity roughly 412% higher than his previous protocol droid body. He can run full real-time battlefield analysis, predict enemy movements with high accuracy, translate and analyze over 12,000 languages simultaneously, and still tell kael he is a fucking stupid.
Mobility & Strength: Fully articulated limbs with advanced servo systems allow fluid, near-human movement. He can sprint at high speeds, perform precise acrobatics, and exert enough force to bend durasteel plating or rip open sealed blast doors.
Durability: Reinforced chassis with layered armor plating resistant to blaster fire (up to a certain point) and shrapnel. Internal shielding protects the core processor.
Sensor Suite: Integrated multi-spectrum scanners, thermal imaging, electromagnetic detection, and encrypted comms hacking suite.
Tactical Interface: Direct wireless link to any friendly droid, ship system, or security network. Can command B1s/B2s/Vultures and others remotely.
Social & Infiltration: Retained and enhanced protocol programming allows seamless interaction with organics, perfect for diplomacy, deception, or gathering intelligence.
Self-Repair: Limited onboard fabrication for minor damage; can interface with larger facilities for major repairs.
And now since he is not a rolling ball of dust he carries a custom modified EE-3 blaster carbine (sleek black with silver and red accents to match his body) that folds and locks into a recessed housing along his right forearm when not in use. The weapon features a collapsible stock, enhanced scope with tactical overlay, and a rapid-fire mode tuned for precision bursts. He also keeps a compact hold-out blaster pistol in a hidden thigh compartment as backup.He is highly proficient with it and treats the carbine like an extension of himself, often twirling or spinning it when he is feeling particularly pleased or sarcastic.