Chapter 60: Meetings for the Path Forward

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.

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Jake's P.O.V. :

Team meetings aboard the Stellar Envoy always had a rhythm, a predictable flow that I’d come to expect. Normally, Davik or Kado would kick things off with a rundown of galactic events—the kind of stuff that might be relevant to us, but more often than not just sounded like interstellar gossip. Maybe I was being unfair and they really were that professional, but you have to admit that the way Davik described a Hutt syndicate’s latest internal power struggle had a flair for drama.

After the galactic gossip hour, we’d move on to stock checks and supply status. This was what I’d dubbed “Kado things,” since he always presented it with the precision of a ship quartermaster, even though he wasn’t officially one. Once that was wrapped up, it was Davik’s turn to report on the armory, which I called “Davik things.” His updates were always peppered with minor gripes about wear-and-tear or suggestions for new gear we’d probably never see unless someone dropped a treasure chest full of credits in our laps.

So imagine my confusion when this meeting started with Kado—our usual voice of calm, calculated reason—waving his arms around like a malfunctioning protocol droid, trying to convince me not to build a lightsaber.

“Look, Jake,” he began, his voice strained like a speeder’s repulsorlift straining under a heavy load. “I know how your mind works. You’ve probably already thought about it. But I’m telling you—no, I’m begging you—don’t. Build. A. Lightsaber.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “I wasn’t planning to,” I said, which was the truth. Sure, the thought had crossed my mind once or twice—who wouldn’t want to tinker with one of the most iconic weapons in the galaxy? But even I knew it was a bad idea. If the Jedi caught wind of it, we’d be toast faster than you could say, “bantha on a spit.”

“Oh, come on, Kado,” I added, giving him my best lopsided grin. “You think I’m crazy enough to actually try that?”

Kado didn’t look convinced. “Yes! Absolutely! You’re the guy who took a grav machine and turned it into a personal gauntlet that can mimic Jedi Force tricks! If anyone’s insane enough to try building a lightsaber, it’s you.”

Okay, fair point.

The longer he went on, the more animated he became. At one point, he was pacing back and forth, muttering things like, “The Jedi would hunt us down,” and “Do you even realize how much heat that would bring?” Watching him unravel was oddly entertaining, and—I’ll admit—it gave me ideas. What if I didn’t build a lightsaber, but just made something that looked like one?

A prank was forming in my mind, and I was already mentally cataloging the materials I’d need. A hologram emitter, a convincing handle, maybe a subtle sound effect generator to mimic that iconic ignition hum… Oh, this could be good. Really good.

I didn’t even realize I was laughing out loud—the kind of laugh you’d hear from a mad scientist in a holodrama—until Kado stopped mid-rant and stared at me.

“Jake,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing? That laugh… you’re doing that laugh. You’re thinking of something ridiculous, aren’t you?”

I tried to school my expression into something resembling innocence, but the smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth betrayed me. “I’m just… considering my options,” I said vaguely.

“Don’t,” Kado warned. “Whatever it is, just don’t.”

Tarek, who had been quietly observing the exchange from his seat, leaned in with an eager grin. “I don’t know, Kado. Maybe we should let Jake tinker. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Kado shot him a look that could have melted durasteel. “The worst that could happen? We end up on the Jedi Council’s most wanted list! That’s the worst that could happen!”

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Kado. I’m not building a lightsaber. But hypothetically…”

“No,” Kado said firmly.

“But—”

“No.”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. No lightsaber. Hypothetically or otherwise.”

Of course, I didn’t say anything about holograms. As Kado turned back to his notes, I exchanged a sly look with Tarek. I’d loop him and Rina in later—if anyone could help make this prank unforgettable, it was them.

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After that weird but admittedly amusing start to our team meeting and Kado finally calming down—probably accepting my promise to do as he asked—Kado began with the latest news he’d managed to gather with the help of Davik and Mira. The first topic was the recent conflict on Malachor V. According to publicly accepted reports, the events there were chalked up to a violent skirmish between pirate bands and mercenaries. But the underworld sources painted a far more interesting picture.

The gossip from the shadowy corners of the galaxy seemed to converge on two main points. First, there was something important in the debris field of Malachor V. Most of the fighting apparently transpired there, making it the focal point of whatever treasure or secret everyone was scrambling for. It occurred to me that the groups involved—be they mercenaries, thugs sent by Gardulla, or the pirates I’m still convinced work for her—likely had no idea of each other’s loyalties. Nor, perhaps, were they all entirely clued in about the "prize" they were competing for. Just a messy free-for-all in the dark, like piranha beetles in a barrel.

The second point was more intriguing: at least one of the groups present on Malachor had an entirely different purpose—an ambush. Who they intended to ambush wasn’t clear, though I had my theories. My guess was that Gardulla’s hired hands had planned to spring a trap for whoever had been tasked with repairing and decoding the data from the "Old Republic Era Relic"—the one predating the Ruusan Reformation. I couldn’t shake the idea that the threads all connected back to her somehow.

I shared my theories with the crew, laying out the possibilities as logically as I could. When I brought up the group that fired on us during our attempted return to the exploded station, I mentioned the likelihood that they might have recovered something before we got there. Some of the crew were skeptical but agreed it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. I reassured everyone—despite being the one to stir up the unease—that the underground Vault itself had been destroyed when I triggered its self-destruct mechanism. Whatever we hadn’t taken, no one else could get their hands on.

Mira, ever practical, volunteered to dig up more information from her underworld contacts. Rina immediately offered to help, noting that with the two of them on the job, we’d likely get a clearer picture instead of the usual half-truths and rumors. That seemed to settle everyone for the moment.

Kado, taking the lull as a cue to move on, brought up the next piece of news. Apparently, Jabba the Hutt had been stirring the proverbial pot lately. He’d been stepping up interference with other crime lords—including his fellow Hutts—while also adding more muscle to his roster. We all agreed it was possible that some of Jabba’s men might have been among the groups active on Malachor V. It wasn’t a stretch, given Jabba’s penchant for keeping his slimy hands in every pie.

After that, the rest of the news Kado shared mostly concerned the Core Worlds and the Mid Rim: a senator’s recent birthday, grumblings about the Trade Federation’s unfair pricing practices, and whispers about the Banking Clan’s borderline-criminal interest rates. Standard fare for galactic politics.

Internally, I couldn’t help but think all of this nonsense had Darth Sidious’s shadowy fingerprints all over it. And Darth "Plague-wise?"—or whatever Palpatine’s master was called. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the guy’s name. I made a mental note to expedite my plans for force-null droids. If I could get my Skew and Nick droid models to counteract the influence of the Force, we’d have a serious edge. That idea would have to wait until after I finished upgrading the N5 droids’ systems, though.

Just as the usual news rundown wrapped up, Shmi spoke up with a question. Her tone was thoughtful, and something about it hinted that she’d been turning the matter over in her mind for a while. It caught my attention immediately, and I put down the tools I’d been fiddling with to give her my full focus. This sounded like it was going to be important.

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Shmi's P.O.V. :

The moment Kado signaled the floor was open before the next topic, I seized the opportunity. I didn’t want to forget, and this felt as good a time as any.

“I have a question about Anakin,” I began, glancing around the room to make sure I had everyone’s attention. “Do you think we can find him some new clothes here in the local market?”

Kado tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Didn’t we already pick up a wardrobe for places not as…” he paused, searching for the word, “…crispy as Tatooine?”

I nodded. “We did, but it looks like our little Ani’s hit a growth spurt. His sleeves are creeping up his arms, and his pants look like they’re ready to give up the fight altogether.” I let out a soft chuckle before continuing. “He’s been eating like a gorg at a buffet lately, and all that exercise he’s getting from playing with ‘Zero’ hasn’t slowed him down one bit.”

I noticed Jake groan at the mention of the name. He pinched the bridge of his nose dramatically, muttering something about “better naming conventions” under his breath. I couldn’t help but smirk. For all his grumbling, he doted on that boy as much as any of us.

“I can extend the time I spend with him,” Jake offered. “We’ve already got a rhythm going with the droids and mechanical stuff. I’ll throw in some extra projects to keep him occupied. Maybe we can build him a speeder that doesn’t explode this time.”

“Hey, I liked that speeder,” Tarek chimed in, raising a hand. “But count me in. Ani’s got a real knack for ships, and I’d be happy to show him a few tricks in the cockpit. He’s already a natural at learning controls—just needs to work on not touching everything all at once.”

Davik leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “If we’re all pitching in, maybe I can make a little game for him. Something to practice… you know, just in case he ever needs to hide during trouble.”

I gasped audibly, the idea of Anakin needing to hide from danger sending a jolt through me. My hand flew to my chest, and I gave Davik a wide-eyed look. “Hide from danger? Ani?”

Davik was quick to wave his hands in reassurance. “No, no, Shmi! I’m just saying… you never know, right? It’s not about expecting trouble, but being prepared for anything. We’ve got the crew, the droids… he’d be safe. Just… y’know, a precaution. That’s all.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but my lips curled into a playful smirk. “All right, Davik. But I’ll have you know, if you keep scaring me like that, I’m going to start serving you bland food. Maybe nothing but ration bars for a week.”

Davik’s hands shot up in mock surrender. “You wouldn’t dare! All right, all right, I’ll behave. You win, Shmi.”

That broke the tension, and soon enough, the room filled with laughter. Even I couldn’t keep up my pretense of sternness. The sight of Kado trying not to chuckle and Jake shaking his head in amused disbelief warmed my heart. These people had become my family, and even in moments of levity, that bond was undeniable.

As the laughter subsided, Kado cleared his throat, his voice regaining its usual calm. “All right, then. Let’s get back on track. But first, let’s make sure to add Anakin’s clothes to the list. We’ll make it a priority.”

“Thank you,” I said, my gratitude evident in my tone. It wasn’t just about the clothes—it was about the way they all cared for everyone including Ani, like a troublemaker of an assistant, Anakin was one of their own.

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Rina's P.O.V. :

With Shmi’s request addressed and Kado signaling for us to move forward, the meeting shifted to what has become a customary moment: Jake's turn to dazzle—or, more often than not, baffle—us with his latest projects. This time, he began by outlining the status of the N5 Sentry droids.

Jake’s upgrades were, as expected, impressive. He’d managed to integrate advanced scanners, enhancing the targeting algorithms to rival the precision of his Nick droids. He even calibrated the new gravity modulators, which he claimed would give the N5 units better stability and maneuverability, especially in uneven terrain. On top of that, he added ship crew protocols, enabling the droids to assist with basic repairs and even operate the Stellar Envoy’s turrets if needed. The way he casually described these improvements made it all sound routine, but the sheer amount of work involved was staggering.

Then Jake shifted gears, quite literally, to show off his latest creation: the “Decoy Ball.” Or at least that’s what he called it. The problem was, the thing wasn’t a ball at all. It was very clearly square.

“Jake,” I said, raising an eyebrow as I picked up the angular device from the table. “Are you sure you know what a ball looks like?”

He looked defensive, like a Loth-cat cornered in a pantry. “It’s called the Decoy Ball because ‘Decoy Square’ sounds... silly. Like the name of a market or something.”

I stared at him, deadpan. “And ‘Decoy Box’ didn’t occur to you? You know, a word that actually fits its shape?”

The faintest hint of color rose to his cheeks, and I could see him struggling not to admit I had a point. The crew burst into laughter at our back-and-forth, and after a moment, Jake let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. You win. It’s the Decoy Box now. Happy?”

“Very.” I smirked, setting the device down as the laughter settled. To spare Jake from more teasing—he was still grumbling under his breath about names—I moved the meeting along to my turn.

“I’ve got news about a potential side job,” I said, immediately earning the attention of the crew. “It’s a chance to take a break from blowing up pirate ships and raiding slaver camps. Something simple for a change.”

Naturally, questions followed.

“Who’s the client?” asked Kado, leaning forward.

“How much are they paying?” Davik chimed in, already looking intrigued.

“What’s the actual job?” Tarek added, his tone cautious.

I held up a hand to keep things orderly. “First off, the client is one of my usual contacts from my info broker work. He’s a private individual who values his anonymity, but I’ve worked with him before. His transactions are always straightforward, and my contacts in the underworld have never flagged him for dishonesty.”

That seemed to satisfy Kado and the others for the moment. “As for payment,” I continued, “the client’s offering 30,000 pegats. That’s about 300,000 Republic credits, give or take.”

Davik let out a low whistle, his eyebrows rising. “That’s enough to buy three Stellar Envoys. Generous for a side gig.”

“Exactly,” I said, grinning. “Now, for the job itself: the client needs a team to investigate a suspected anomaly. He’s been getting conflicting readings from his ship’s scanners and wants a physical confirmation of what’s there. According to him, there’s no danger—he’s certain because his ship has been ejected from hyperspace near the anomaly three separate times.”

Tarek frowned thoughtfully. “A hyperspace disruption zone?”

“Possibly,” I said with a shrug. “The client didn’t give a lot of specifics, just that it’s baffling his tech. The mission’s simple: check out the location, document whatever’s there, and report back. Straightforward, no complications.”

“And you’ve already accepted the job,” Kado guessed, folding his arms.

“Of course,” I replied. “With that kind of pay, how could I say no? What could possibly go wrong?”

It was a rhetorical question—an attempt to keep the mood light—but my words had an unintended effect. From across the table, Jake gave me the deadest stare I’ve ever seen, the kind of look that could wilt a fresh blossom vine.

I blinked at him, confused. “What?”

Jake didn’t respond immediately, just shook his head as if I’d done something profoundly reckless. It wasn’t until later that I realized what I’d done because according to Jake: I’d just challenged someone called Murphy. And judging by Jake’s expression, he was the only one in the room who understood the gravity of that mistake.