Chapter 54: A Month in the Game

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. :

Can you believe it’s been a whole month since we ditched Ord Mantell and dove headfirst into the galaxy’s underbelly? If you didn’t know, now you do. Let me tell you—it’s been busy, but honestly? Kinda boring, too. I mean, sure, there’s been blaster fire lighting up the dark, explosions here and there, and the occasional close call, but the pattern's always the same: find pirates or slavers, take 'em down, free the captives, and repeat. Nothing you’d write home about—if I had a home to write to. No damsels in distress, much to Tarek’s disappointment. He’s been dreaming of pulling off some holo-drama rescue and earning himself a heartfelt thank you from a princess.

Instead, we’ve clocked in three pirate groups and dismantled five slaver rings. That’s not counting the odd salvage job we’ve picked up for creds. Honestly? The salvage runs feel more exciting. Well, most of them, anyway. You wouldn’t think a firefight with a trio of Mandalorians would qualify as a side note, but hey, it’s the Outer Rim. These things happen.

So, picture this: we were in the middle of wrecking another slaver hideout, freeing a bunch of poor folks locked up tighter than a Hutt’s coin vault, when the Mandos stormed in. Turns out, they were after a bounty that just happened to overlap with our op. The air got thick, real fast—blasters, gauntlet shields, and a whole lot of yelling. It wasn’t until we got some breathing room to actually talk that they realized we weren’t trying to swipe their prize. No, we were just here to gut the slavers and cut the chains. After some grumbled words and tense stares from under their helmets, we actually teamed up. The Mandos were surprisingly professional, all things considered. By the end, they even swapped contact info with us—just in case. Who knew? Maybe Mandos aren’t as unapproachable as the holos make them seem.

Anyway, fast forward to me in the workshop, talking to myself—or, well, recording a log for Davik. He’s been very insistent on me doing these personal mission logs. Claims they’re useful for “reflecting on actions, identifying mistakes, and strategizing for future hunts.” Sounds like something you’d hear in a Jedi lecture, but hey, I figured I’d humor him.

I was mid-log when Mira snuck up behind me. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

I nearly jumped out of my boots but managed to keep my cool—barely. Turning, I saw Rina with her trademark silent, mocking laugh standing next to Mira, who looked way too amused for my comfort. “Uh,” I coughed to buy myself a second, “personal log. Davik’s idea. He says we should record mission details, reflect on what happened, you know, to improve and stuff.”

Mira’s eyes twinkled with interest, and she immediately zeroed in on my last log. “This wouldn’t happen to be about your little heroic charge at the slavers, would it?”

I groaned inwardly but nodded. “Yeah, I was reflecting on the last op, where I, uh—”

“—where you pulled a suicidal charge to test your phrik armor and gravity gauntlet,” Rina cut in, her tone dry enough to parch a moisture farmer.

“It wasn’t suicidal,” I argued, crossing my arms.

Rina arched a brow. “It was a suicidal charge. And don’t forget the time you dragged Arlos along to ‘test’ the camouflage add-ons on our combat armor.”

“That was a legitimate flanking maneuver!” I shot back, though my voice faltered slightly.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, except we were already winning. Overwhelmingly, I might add.”

I opened my mouth to counter but found I couldn’t. She had me there. “Okay, fine. Maybe it wasn’t the most necessary maneuver, but we did confirm the camouflage works!”

“You’re lucky it worked,” Rina muttered, shaking her head. Mira chuckled at the exchange, clearly enjoying the show.

I threw up my hands in mock defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll dial it back on the experimental field tests. Happy?”

Rina smirked. “For now.”

As the meeting eventually resumed, I couldn’t help but chuckle. This crew might drive me crazy, but they’re my kind of crazy. And hey, if I ever do something completely reckless again—which, let’s be real, is probably going to happen—they’ll be there to give me grief about it afterward.

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After getting roasted by Mira and Rina back in the workshop, Mira let me know why they were actually there. “We need your technical expertise,” she said, her tone casual but pointed enough to get my attention.

“Do I need to suit up for battle?” I asked half-jokingly, though let’s be honest, in this crew, that’s a legit question.

She shrugged. “Might as well. We’ve got to look professional where we’re going anyway.”

And that’s how I found myself suiting up and strapping on my utility belt. A few moments later, we were en route to meet Kado and Davik on Ryloth.

Now, Ryloth. What a place. I started narrating internally to pass the time because, let’s face it, being crammed in a shuttle with a bunch of armed and armored people doesn’t lend itself to casual conversation. Ryloth—home to the Twi’leks, a planet where the economy is practically built on the back of slavery. Its underbelly? A cesspool of criminal syndicates, all clawing at each other for dominance while the galaxy turns a blind eye. Lovely place.

By the time I wrapped up my mental monologue, we’d arrived at our destination. The speeder touched down outside a seedy-looking establishment with neon signs flickering in Huttese and Basic. Kado and Davik were already there, waiting by the entrance.

“What’s the deal?” I asked as I hopped out.

Kado motioned toward the building. “We’re here to pick up some dedicated security droids for the ship.”

I blinked. “Security droids? I was planning to rebuild the IG droids we salvaged and upgrade them to match the Skews and Nicks.”

Kado shook his head, crossing his arms. “Those droids might be needed in the field. If that happens, the Stellar Envoy would be left with minimal defenses.”

He had me there. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. The IG droids were tough, but they weren’t designed to sit around guarding a ship—they were built for action. “Fair point,” I said, already shifting gears. “How many are we talking?”

“Two security droids,” Kado replied, “and another astromech.”

I frowned. “Another? What do you mean by another?”

Before Kado could answer, Davik piped up from a few paces away. “We already have an astromech on board. You’d know that if you ever stepped into the cockpit when it wasn’t on fire.”

My face turned redder than the twin suns of Tatooine. “Oh… uh, oops.”

Rina smirked and couldn’t resist piling on. “That astromech’s saved our tails more times than I can count. Especially when we’ve been under fire in space. You’d better give it an upgrade—and a fancy name while you’re at it.”

She wasn’t wrong. I vaguely recalled seeing it scurrying around the cockpit with Tarek and Nick-03 during chaotic moments, but between fixing everything else and getting shot at, it must’ve slipped my mind.

“Alright, alright,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “I’ll get it shiny and give it a name. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Rina deadpanned, her tone dripping with mock sincerity.

With that, we turned our attention back to the task at hand. The five of us stepped inside the establishment, the air thick with the smell of oil, old coolant, and the faint tang of burnt circuits. The place was packed with crates of droid parts, flickering holos advertising different models, and a couple of protocol droids shuffling around assisting customers.

We approached the counter where a scruffy Twi’lek clerk leaned lazily against a pile of datapads. He gave us a once-over, his sharp lekku twitching slightly. “What can I do for you?” he drawled.

Kado stepped forward, his voice all business. “We’re looking for two high-grade security droids and an astromech. No junk—only quality.”

The clerk raised an eyebrow. “You’ve come to the right place. Follow me.”

As we trailed after him, I couldn’t help but glance around, already forming plans in my head. Sure, we’d buy the droids, but I’d have them tricked out and customized by the time they were operational. Security droids, an upgraded astromech, and maybe—just maybe—a little extra flair to keep us ahead of the game.

One thing’s for sure: when I’m done, these droids won’t just guard the ship. They’ll own the field.

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The Twi’lek shop owner was a tough nut to crack—seriously, this guy must’ve had years of experience dealing with armed types like us. I’d initially thought he was just a clerk, but no, he was the real deal. Only a shop owner would stand toe-to-toe with Kado in a bargaining match that intense.

It was just Kado and me holding the line while Mira, Davik, and Rina wandered off. Knowing them, they were either checking out other stalls or just killing time in the way only they knew how. Meanwhile, my combat armor wasn’t doing much to intimidate the Twi’lek. The guy had clearly seen his share of folks like us, and judging by his calm demeanor, he was completely desensitized to the whole "armed and dangerous" look.

I was snapped out of my internal grumbling when Kado tapped my shoulder and gestured for me to follow. Apparently, he’d managed to reach an agreement. The Twi’lek led us to a lineup of droids, gesturing for us to pick.

The selection wasn’t bad, though it was clear the Twi’lek wasn’t willing to part with anything too exotic. I quickly zeroed in on four N5 Sentry droids, solid models commonly used for security. Kado and I exchanged a knowing glance—looks like we were on the same wavelength.

As I inspected the droids, I muttered quietly to Kado, “Common models and that guy still bargained so hard?”

Kado smirked. “He’s got his reasons. I’ll explain later.”

The final piece of our purchase was an R3 astromech. It wasn’t as versatile as an R2 unit, but it had its own specializations that I could work with. I was already brainstorming upgrades and mods as we loaded the droids onto a repulsorlift sled and hitched it to our landspeeder.

Once we were on the move and had some privacy, I finally asked Kado about the intense bargaining. “What was his deal? He didn’t seem desperate to sell.”

Kado’s face darkened slightly. “Turns out the shop owner’s been harassed by some mid-level syndicate. They’ve been trying to strong-arm him into selling droids at dirt-cheap prices. Happens every week.”

I frowned. “Why didn’t he just report it to the local authorities?”

Kado snorted. “On Ryloth? Authorities either don’t care or are in the syndicates’ pockets. When I pressed him for more details, I found out it’s not a big syndicate, but they’re no pushovers, either.”

“And you offered to handle it?”

He nodded. “Figured it’d be a good way to stretch our legs. We’ve been hunting bigger fish anyway; this’ll be a warm-up.”

By the time we reached the speeder, the others were already there, inspecting the droids we’d bought. Mira had her arms crossed, and Rina raised an eyebrow. Davik let out a low whistle. “N5 Sentry droids, huh? Pretty standard fare.”

Rina smirked. “Didn’t think you’d go for something so... basic.”

I rolled my eyes. “I built the Nick and Skew droids practically from scrap. Imagine what I can do with these models when we have actual resources.”

That seemed to win them over. I could see the wheels turning in their heads as they considered the possibilities. If they were anything like me, they were already imagining those droids souped-up and ready for action.

Back aboard the Stellar Envoy, we wasted no time. While the droids were unloaded and secured in the cargo bay, we all gathered around the holo-table to start planning our next move. This syndicate had made the mistake of targeting the wrong Twi’lek shop owner—and we were about to make them regret it.