Chapter 65: Droids, Death, and Dumbly-Named Machines

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all of it's Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it's original characters are however mine.

--------------------

Jake's P.O.V. :

Rina must be thinking I’d forget my helmet had filters. Good thing she isn't here because I do not want to see that smug expression of hers. Why am I talking about filters, you ask? Well, because the stench of rotting corpses lining the hallways on our way to the security office is beyond words. "Smell" doesn’t cut it. Even calling it a stink would be an insult to every bad smell I’ve ever encountered in my life.

And, yeah. I forgot about my helmet’s filters.

Only remembered when I saw Kado and Davik putting theirs on. That was after I got a lungful of corpse-miasma and promptly voided my stomach. So, yeah. Not an experience I want to repeat. And definitely not one I want Rina knowing about.

While I was busy grumbling in my head, we arrived at the security office—if the station map was to be believed. As expected, the doors were locked, and without Rina here to work her usual magic, we had to make do.

Good thing I’m not useless.

I pulled out a modified data spike and jammed it into the door terminal, linking it to my gauntlet. A flick of my fingers activated the slicing program I’d loaded up—one designed to safely bypass the system’s security and unlock the door without tripping any alarms.

Turns out we’ve been spoiled by Rina’s speed because after a few seconds, Davik, in true Davik fashion, remarked, “This is taking longer than usual.”

I made an exaggerated, elongated groan of displeasure. “Aaugh.”

He smirked. “Still waiting.”

Before he could get out his third complaint, the terminal let out a sharp beep, and the door slid open.

I was just about to make a crack about not needing Rina at all, but Kado beat me to it. “So, Jake can do what Rina does,” he mused, “just slower.”

I let out another zombie-like augh to properly express my disapproval.

Davik snorted. “Right. Let’s get moving.”

Davik signaled that he’d enter first, followed by Kado once he gave the all-clear, and then me. I followed in, already pulling out my second data spike as I approached the main terminal.

With a quick flick of my wrist, I plugged in the spike and activated the full slicing suite on my gauntlet—security bypass protocols, anti-virus sweeps, data retrieval routines, and, most importantly, the ghost identification program. That last one was designed to trick the system into thinking I had the highest access privileges available.

As the programs ran, I glanced over at the others. “This is gonna take a while. Might as well make yourselves useful and see if you can find the armory while we wait.”

Davik gave me a nod but threw a glance at Kado. “You stay here with him.”

He didn’t say he thought my situational awareness was questionable. But I know that he knows that I know that he thinks that.

Not gonna lie, he’s not entirely wrong.

I sighed, turning my attention back to the terminal. The code was unfolding across my HUD, and I watched as my programs worked their magic.

At first, the security system put up a fight. Firewalls layered like durasteel plating, forcing my bypass routines to chew through them one by one. The anti-virus detected my spike, but my counterprogram shut it down before it could raise any alarms. A few more seconds, and I was into the mainframe, navigating the command structure like a swoop racer threading through a canyon.

Then came the fun part—convincing the system that I wasn’t just a guest.

I activated the ghost identification program. The screen flickered as my slicing suite worked to inject a fabricated command into the system’s recognition database. The trick was making it look authentic—if the system detected any inconsistencies, it’d lock me out faster than a Hutt stiffing a bounty hunter.

The screen glitched for a moment. Then another.

I held my breath.

And then—

Access Level: Overseer Granted

The terminal let out a series of confirming beeps, and the display shifted, welcoming me as if I was the head honcho of this place. Rolling my shoulders as if I’d just won a sabaac hand.

I grinned. Oh, Rina, eat your heart out.

--------------------

With the most punchable smirk I could muster—helmet or not—I turned to Kado and, in the smuggest tone possible, said, “I’m in.”

Did I wait for his reaction? Nope. Didn’t need to. I was already diving headfirst into the system, fingers dancing across my gauntlet as I worked through the station’s security protocols.

First things first—adding our identities to the security database. No need to get shot at by the system’s defenses if I could just tell them we belonged here. Simple, efficient, and part of the plan.

Next, I started pulling up logs and inventories. Most of it was standard—weapon stockpiles, droid manifests, patrol routes… but then something really caught my eye.

An experimental project.

Project Name: Stupidly Humongous Interceptor Tank

I blinked.

Then I laughed.

Okay, whoever was running this place had a sense of humor. And judging by the name alone, I already had a very strong hunch about what this was.

“Kado,” I called out, still grinning. “You are not gonna believe what I just found.”

He tilted his head, waiting.

“Something called the Stupidly Humongous Interceptor Tank—”

Kado let out a soft chuckle. “Stupidly humongous? That’s an actual designation?”

I nodded, still scanning the data. “Looks like the guy in charge of this place had a real flair for naming things.”

As I continued retrieving logs, Kado gave me an approving nod. “Smart thinking, Jake. You didn’t just focus on security; you’re pulling everything useful.”

And just like that, my face heated up.

I could handle underhanded compliments. I could handle smack talk. But a sincere praise? That hit harder than a Wookiee’s backhand.

Kado saw my reaction and immediately let out a good-natured laugh.

Before I could retaliate, Davik returned, his tone all business. “Found the barracks.”

I looked up as he stepped inside.

“And?” Kado prompted.

Davik crossed his arms. “Looks like a small war happened in there. Blaster burns everywhere, bodies riddled with shots, and a lot of droid remains.”

That got my attention.

“Hang on,” I said, “send me a recording.”

A moment later, my gauntlet buzzed, and I pulled up Davik’s footage. I focused on the droids first—old, bulky designs, built more for intimidation than efficiency. Their shapes tickled something in my memory, but I couldn’t quite place them.

“Gimme a sec,” I muttered, using the terminal to run an identification scan.

The system took a moment before displaying the result:

Sentinel Droids – Old Republic Era Model

Oh.

I recognized these now. Sentinel Droids. Same kind used during the Jedi Civil War.

“They must’ve been part of the station’s security,” I mused, scrolling through the data. But something felt… off. The positioning of the bodies, the damage patterns—this wasn’t just some routine security engagement.

I frowned. “Why does it look like these droids fought the station staff?”

Judging by the attire of the corpses, they weren’t intruders. They belonged here. But the droids hadn’t been protecting them. They’d been attacking them.

Kado gave Davik a nod. “Jake already patched us into the security system, so opening the sealed weapons lockers should be easier.”

Davik smirked. “Now that is good news.”

While they talked, I glanced at my gauntlet. The data retrieval had finished. I skimmed through the logs, hoping for a more comprehensive history of what happened here.

But no such luck.

Looks like the real logs were in the station boss’ office. Figures.

Still, as I scrolled, something made my stomach drop.

Entry Detected: Force Null Sentinel Droids – Status: Locked Down

I stiffened.

The words Force Null were enough to make my brain go into overdrive. But the droid designation? I already knew what this was.

My pulse spiked for half a second before I kept reading—

Status: Disabled
Notes: Subject placed under study due to rogue behavior.

Oh.

Oh, thank kriff.

I’d panicked too early.

The droid was disabled. Being studied. Not active.

I must’ve made some kind of noise because, next thing I knew, Kado and Davik were right next to me, their postures tense.

“What?” Kado asked.

I let out a breath, rubbing my helmet. “False panic.”

Davik raised a brow. “There is no such thing as false panic.”

I waved him off. “Closest description I could think of. What happened was—I just read about a droid we fought on Malachor V.”

Both of them went dead silent.

I gave it a beat. Wait for it…

Then—

Two sharp gasps.

I grinned to myself. Oh, this is fun.

I kept going, dragging it out a little. “Turns out they were disabled and being examined on this station.”

Two simultaneous sighs of relief.

I leaned back. “Huh. That was kinda fun.”

Kado just shook his head. “One day, Jake. One day, someone’s gonna deck you for doing that.”

Davik crossed his arms. “And if it’s me, you’re not gonna see it coming.”

I snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

But my mind was still racing.

If those droids were being studied, then whoever was running this station had probably records on findings as to what made them go rogue.

I exhaled, looking at my gauntlet.

“Alright,” I muttered, “next stop—the Armory.”

--------------------

I commed the Skew and Nick droids, setting them on scouting duty. Skew-01 and Nick-01 were headed for the Armory, while Skew-02 and Nick-02 made their way toward the Station Head’s office.

A series of acknowledged responses followed—affirmatives all around. Good. That’d save us some trouble.

With the droids on task, Kado, Davik, and I moved out.

This time, unlike earlier when we had to creep through the station to avoid security turrets, our path was straight as a blaster bolt. We didn’t have to slink around anymore—the system knew we belonged here.

But that didn’t mean the walk was pleasant.

Because the corpses?

They were still here.

And these weren’t the chaotic sprawled-out bodies we saw before. These ones were lined up, all generally facing the same direction.

Executed.

That was the only word that fit.

I didn’t slow down. Not because it didn’t bother me—because it did. But I knew this wasn’t our puzzle to solve. I’d leave that to Mira and Rina. They had the sharp eyes and sharp minds to dig through the whys and whats of all this.

We?

We had an Armory to check.

And when we got there, I immediately saw what Davik meant when he said a small war had gone down.

My first theory—droids going rogue? Yeah, that was out the airlock.

From the way the Sentinel droids were positioned, they weren’t attacking indiscriminately. They were in defensive stances, fighting alongside some of the staff, while others—also in staff uniforms—had been the ones on the offensive.

Not a clear-cut droid rebellion, then.

Because if this had been the usual ‘killer droids go haywire’ situation, they wouldn’t have been backing up any organics.

And the people attacking? Some of them… didn’t even have weapons.

Or maybe I was assuming. Maybe their weapons had been taken after the fight. Hard to say without a deeper look.

But that was not my priority right now.

I turned my attention to the lockers. Most of them were already popped open, their contents either emptied or nearly emptied. Some still had weapons sitting inside, forgotten in the chaos.

I wasn’t about to just trust that the room was safe, though.

I toggled my armor’s scanner and did a quick sweep. No tripwires, no motion sensors, no nasty little surprises waiting to turn us into very messy wall paint.

“Looks clear,” I muttered. “Let’s check the open lockers first.”

We moved in.

The weapons inside were… fine, I guess. Standard issue. Serviceable.

But after everything I’d done to our arsenal? These were bantha fodder in comparison.

Still, parts were parts. We could always use spares.

We moved to the sealed lockers next. I bypassed the locks with ease—at this point, the station’s security was more inconvenience than challenge—and we cracked them open one by one.

…More of the same.

Nothing terrible, but nothing impressive, either.

Davik nudged a blaster rifle with his foot. “Well. That’s underwhelming.”

Kado hummed. “Better than nothing.”

Yeah. Barely.

But before we could sort through what was worth keeping, my comms unit beeped.

Skew-01.

The droid's report crackled through my helmet’s earpiece, reporting that they were closing in on our position. Good timing.

“Copy that,” I said. “Hold position at the entrance when you get here.”

I glanced at Kado and Davik. “We’ll wait for the droids before we go looking for that Stupidly Humongous Interceptor Tank machine.”

Davik snorted. “You have to stop saying that with a straight face.”

“Not happening,” I said.

Because the name was so unbelievably dumb that it looped back around to amazing.

But dumb name or not, my gut told me this thing was important.

I opened a channel to Mira.

“We’re about to go looking for an experimental machine,” I told her. “Also gonna be keeping an eye out for anything that might point to the cause of the hyperspace anomaly.”

“Understood,” Mira responded. “You have a theory?”

“Yeah.” I grinned under my helmet. “I’m betting on the experimental machine.”

“Because it’s experimental?” she asked dryly.

“Nah,” I said. “Because it’s got a stupid name, a stupid acronym, and it’s experimental.”

There was a pause.

Then, a resigned, “Copy that.”

I chuckled and cut the link.

Alright.

Time to go find the dumbest-named, probably incredibly dangerous machine in this whole kriffing station.

What could possibly go wrong? Ah kriff, my mouth talked before I could stop it.