Coruscant. Level 909, Sector A-21.
Level 909 had never been known for a peaceful atmosphere or clean streets. Existing as a de facto border territory between the Hutt Cartel and the remnants of the local Black Sun Syndicate cell, the level had become a true battleground where minor skirmishes between the factions occurred almost hourly. On several occasions, the opposing leaders instigated full-scale warfare, sending hundreds of their own and mercenary fighters on armed speeders into the fray.
The civilian population had long since abandoned their homes, fleeing the fate of being caught between the hammer and the anvil.
However, everything had recently changed.
Blaster fire and explosions no longer echoed in every alleyway. Broken and scorched speeders were cleared from the streets, barricades dismantled, and even the power supply was restored. And in Sector A-21, something previously unthinkable took place! Construction crews arrived in the district, rebuilding the surrounding structures! Some former residents even dared to return.
Though, upon closer inspection, none of this was truly surprising. After all, the Black Sun had ceased operations on Coruscant for almost a month now. They had been replaced by the hitherto unknown Blood Claws, rumored to be subservient to the Cartel. This seemed plausible, as the gang war instantly ended in a truce the moment a certain Lord, who claimed to be the head of the Claws, met with Ziro, the local Hutt representative.
Hostilities ceased. Level 909 was no longer a front line, but had instead become the location of the Claws' central refuge. Or at least, that is how it appeared to the local inhabitants.
Revan was deep in thought, walking slowly through the corridors of the newly constructed Blood Claws headquarters... correction, the corridors of his own headquarters. For, contrary to the Cartel's belief, the Claws answered to him and him alone.
One should have seen Ziro the Hutt's face when Revan, disguised as the Lord, informed him that he served Jabba personally, but was prepared to assist on the order of his "Boss." This meant the Claws were also loyal to the Tatooine crime lord, so Ziro could take his own orders and shove them somewhere deep and comfortable.
Ran Fevro, who was present at the meeting and had taken charge of managing the Black Sun remnants and transforming them into the Blood Claws, nearly soiled himself upon seeing the raw fury and hatred in the Hutt's eyes.
For a good half-hour, Ziro foamed and promised the most horrific punishments his twisted imagination could conjure. Yet, Revan's unyielding will, coupled with his composure and confidence, forced the local Cartel representative to back down. Though, perhaps the real factor was the discreetly carried explosives and the very detonator Dal Perhi had threatened Revan with. The Force had almost no effect on the minds of those slug-like creatures. This, the former Jedi remembered very well.
Jabba, however, was thrilled with the situation. He had thoroughly vexed his "dear" uncle, boosted his standing in the Hutt Council, and gained access to the heart of the Republic, Coruscant, a place previously closed to everyone but Ziro. Consequently, Ziro was seething at Jabba, who, in turn, was dipping his sticky fingers into every one of his uncle's "feeders," trying to find the point where Ziro would simply lose patience and disregard Cartel rules to declare war on his nephew.
With Revan's tacit approval, the Claws, led by Fevro, restored some of their old business, establishing arms trade on the Lower Levels and cutting a slice of Ziro's revenue in the smuggling market. The turnover was still modest, but for the first month, the result was quite respectable. Moreover, the business was gathering momentum. Old suppliers and clients were returning, and a steady stream of goods from the Outer Rim began flowing; mercenary activity on Coruscant had increased.
One-third of the revenue was sent to Tatooine as payment for Hutt patronage. A tenth of the remainder went to the Justice Corps, which, having received its credits, became deaf and blind to everything happening in the Lower Levels, and sometimes even in the markets of the Upper City.
Ziro gnashed his teeth, evaluating the money that flowed to the Cartel but bypassed his own pocket, yet he didn't dare act. His influence in the Council had significantly waned after the Black Sun affair, and he wouldn't risk going against the entire Cartel. His position, in which he had been unable to eliminate competitors for several years, was exacerbated by the ease with which a single squad of Tatooine Blood Claws resolved the situation. The throne beneath his regal, tailed posterior was shaking as never before. Any moment now, the Cartel might decide that Jabba was better suited to manage Coruscant than a compromised Ziro.
Fevro proved to be an exceptionally capable manager, quickly setting up the business and reigning in the Black Sun remnants. The thugs, in essence, didn't care who they worked for. The absence of trouble with the Cartel, which had become a solid umbrella of protection, and stable income confidently tipped the scales toward joining the Claws. Leaders of specific factions and minor gangs received a dose of "persuasion" from Revan just in case. Those who categorically disagreed with the new arrangement quickly disappeared from view... and from the world of the living. HK guaranteed it.
Even after sacrificing a third of the profits, the Claws' income on Coruscant remained quite substantial. A portion was transferred directly to Ticho Dorma so that the Tatooine branch could also increase its turnover and influence, which had already grown considerably thanks to the flow of contraband into and out of the capital. The Claws idolized Revan, as everyone in the gang knew to whom they owed their continuously improving welfare. Just a couple of months ago, they were surviving in the dusty shanties of Tatooine; now, they held control over the markets and the Mos Espa spaceport, had secured a foothold on Coruscant, and were practically Jabba's favorites.
Revan had no intention of stopping at his current success. His plans included expanding his influence on Tatooine and Coruscant, legalizing the business, and entering the open market. A Republic Chamber of Commerce license was expensive but granted access to virtually any planet. It would have been far easier to obtain a Trade Federation license, but after the Naboo situation, the Neimoidians and their partners were out of favor with the Senate. With permission to trade in Republic space, the Claws could set up arms deliveries from the Outer Rim. After all, manufacturer certificates and authorization for use within the Republic were easily bought or forged. Senatorial Commissions traded them almost openly! Revan saw with increasing clarity how rotten the Republic was from the inside. It needed a cleansing... a purifying fire of conflict. And this was precisely what Sidious promised to accomplish, for which Revan silently wished him luck.
The former Jedi himself intended to continue strengthening his position on the galactic stage. For now, to most sentients, he was a nobody, an empty space. But as the bank account filled, the space ceased to be so "empty." In just one month, the Lord's name was, at minimum, recognized, and in some parts, remembered within the criminal circles of the Core Worlds. Revan planned the same outside the Republic's shadow side.
A merchant named Vaner Shan had already registered a small trading firm, "Obsidian," which was to engage in cargo transport and small-scale trade... for now, small-scale. Someone had started a rumor that the entrepreneur was "sheltered" by the Claws, which protected Obsidian from the encroachments of criminal organizations and corrupt lawmen, and simultaneously attracted the attention of clients.
The Black Sun transports, now under new ownership, had already completed several runs, and the number of trade contacts was constantly growing. After all, safe methods for delivering cargo to less-than-peaceful regions were in high demand. Few were willing to risk intercepting ships that nominally belonged to the Blood Claws, and thus, to the Cartel. Only the Syndicate, angered by the loss of Coruscant, might attempt something.
But this was an unavoidable risk Revan was prepared to take. Furthermore, someone had whispered to the right people that Shan was acquainted and closely associated with a certain Avner Van, who, in turn, was a full-fledged Knight of the notorious Order. The additional "boogeyman" in the form of potential retaliation from the Jedi only elevated Obsidian's reputation and made anyone who wished to profit at the expense of the young company think twice.
The former Jedi's plans included establishing food supply lines to the mining platforms and stations of Vergesso and Kessel, and retrieving ore on the return trip for the metal processing plants in the Core. A medium-class freighter was certainly no bulk freighter and could not transport a large volume of raw materials. However, this drawback was offset by a speed three times that of the slow-moving heavy haulers.
For example, the Corellian medium transport MT-340, with a capacity of 220 tons, could make three or four runs a month compared to one for the HLT-22 ore freighter, even with its fivefold cargo volume. Fast runs and supplementary, unscheduled deliveries were intended to interest the ship-steel manufacturing plants, where raw material shortages were a perpetual problem.
Protection would be needed on the route, meaning escort ships would have to be employed, or the transports themselves would need to be well-armed. Fevro was scheduled to handle this soon.
If the venture succeeded, the profits would be substantial. Obsidian and the Claws would grow daily, steadily strengthening their master's position.
More than one month would pass, but Revan was confident that his Claws would break free from the Cartel's influence. Naturally, the Hutts would not appreciate this, so the organization's growth would need to be carefully masked.
But those were all questions for the future. For now, Revan's thoughts were occupied by something else entirely. He had learned his name... or rather, the name of the body he occupied: Mizar Marr, half-Miraluka, the son of a woman named Afizas Marr. He had to search for the father's name.
However, Revan had his suspicions. Mizar's father was highly likely a Jedi, as indicated by the body's abilities, fragmentary information received from Kirshaah and the Black Sun archives, and the distinct effort made to cover up the child's existence. The suspicion was easily verified by comparing DNA samples, which Revan did. Fortunately, all Jedi samples were in the Order's medical database. A match was found...
Mizar's father was Sifo-Dyas, a member of the Council, which explained a great deal. This person needed to be treated with caution in the future. His son should clearly not have appeared in the Core Worlds, much less in the Order. However, Dyas apparently did not recognize his offspring in Revan, but it was not worth the risk. The last thing the former Sith wanted now was to become part of a family drama, let alone explain himself to anyone from the Order.
The Master was somehow connected to the Muuns, as it was they who hid the boy, born on Muunilinst. However, exactly where the child was taken was unclear. The trail was lost after Mizar transferred to another ship without landing at any port. Sifo-Dyas's son did not appear anywhere again until the ancient resurrected lord escaped from that asteroid base.
In an attempt to get to the bottom of the truth, Revan even tried to find the refuge of the insane Sith experimenter who had brought him back to the world of the living, for the Mandaloian Wars General's memory never failed him. Although the coordinates were lost when Revan destroyed the navigation computer of the vessel he escaped on, he had managed to view the route at the time. Yet, the refuge was not there, nor was the asteroid itself. Someone had covered their tracks very well to resort to destroying an expensive secret base. Everything had led to a dead end again.
However, a few threads remained that could lead Revan to the mystery of his own appearance four millennia later. The corporation "Damask Holdings" was somehow involved. But digging up information on the Muuns' homeworld would be extremely difficult. Moreover, as the former Jedi had learned, Damask was a very influential Muun, secretive and dangerous in a certain way.
The other thread remained Sifo-Dyas himself. However, Revan was reserving the direct approach option for the very last resort. He would rather try to dig up something on Damask Holdings. A couple of the most resourceful Blood Claws informants had already begun gathering information from their sources.
It would take a lot of time, but Revan had it. After all, no one was threatening him... yet.
Over the past month, Sidious had tried to contact him. Or rather, he simply sent a message through Maul. Just two words: "Do not interfere." This could only mean one thing: the Sith Lord had begun to act. Revan had not planned to interfere with him, choosing instead to adopt a wait-and-see stance. But a premonition advised him to prepare for unpleasant surprises. This meant he needed to amass power.
The former lord of his own empire nearly broke his stride, suddenly realizing he was treading the same path again. Only a few months after his resurrection, and he was already planning the creation of his own... hmm... organization? Something that could influence the state of galactic affairs. A power!
"An Empire?" Revan smirked at his own thoughts. "And why did I strive for it so much?"
Deep in thought, the former Sith Lord continued moving and soon reached the training hall, set up on the third floor of the Blood Claws base. Anakin was already waiting for him there, diligently performing warm-up exercises under Maul's supervision.
"My Lord," the Zabrak was the first to notice the entrance and bowed in greeting.
Skywalker was not far behind the senior apprentice and straightened up.
"Hello, Master!"
Since the first, not-so-successful lesson, the boy had learned a great deal about the training process for both Jedi and Sith. Etiquette and subordination were paramount in both.
Anakin recovered from the sensory shock that ended his first meditation only on the third day. However, this did not dampen his fervor. The boy yearned for knowledge, studying everything his master allowed. It was not without consequences. The unsuccessful experience had sown fear in Skywalker's soul, which inevitably attracted the Dark Side, throwing the apprentice off balance. Revan had to abandon his initial training plan to focus on teaching Anakin the balance between raging emotions and serene concentration. Fortunately, the boy had not yet entered puberty; otherwise, hormonal fluctuations would have nullified all the lessons.
However, Skywalker, it turned out, had managed to fall in love even at such a young age. This was revealed during one of their joint meditations when Revan distinctly read familiar emotions in the apprentice's mind.
The situation was both bad and good. On the one hand, love, being a dual emotion, made the apprentice unstable and vulnerable. But it could also become a necessary anchor for the gifted one's consciousness. In his time, Bastila had been such a center of balance for Revan… as, for that matter, he had been for her.
Working with emotions was always a complex task that only a select few mastered, and Anakin was at the very beginning of the path, but Revan believed the boy would manage, and he, as the master, would help him.
Within a month, the boy was able to meditate without losing control over the currents of the Force, and without his master's support, which was already a good achievement.
In lightsaber combat, they had not progressed beyond the fundamentals. Anakin was still practicing basic katas and building his physical form, preparing to begin studying Form I: Shii-Cho. The progress was not as fast as Revan had expected, based on his own achievements at the boy's age, but due to the late start and the non-standard curriculum, the process could not be accelerated.
Maul, by contrast, had noticeably refined his style, adding the precision of Makashi to Juyo. A lack of experience still told, but the Zabrak no longer lost to his master so disgracefully. The bout now lasted several minutes instead of ten seconds, but Maul had yet to force his master to reveal his true level.
Overall, the training of both apprentices was quite successful.
"Master, are you concerned about something?" Anakin noticed his master's pensive expression.
Revan shifted his gaze to the apprentice and pondered the answer for a few seconds. Skywalker was still too young to understand the questions plaguing his master.
"I'm simply contemplating something we'll discuss another time. Let's look at your progress instead. Are you finished with your warm-up?"
"Yes!" the boy happily replied.
"Then show me how you've mastered the basic movements with the training saber."
Anakin grabbed a vibroblade from the rack, specially sized for the child, and stood in the center of the hall. Maul took his place as an observer on Revan's right hand.
"Begin," the master requested.
Skywalker enthusiastically began to swing the blade, gradually adding steps to his arm movements, slowly moving through the hall.
The boy rushed to demonstrate his progress, resulting in a host of errors. Revan heard Maul disapprove with a snort, having also noticed the child's mistakes.
"Anakin, slower," the master advised. "Don't rush. Your body must get used to the saber's weight. If an unactivated vibroblade still pulls you off balance, you certainly won't be able to manage a lightsaber."
Although training in this direction was already underway, the boy was not yet able to consciously infuse his body with the Force, which, in Revan's opinion, was a good thing. By mastering all the elements without the aid of the Force, Anakin would have an easier time in the future.
"Sharper movements," the master spoke again, noticing how the blade passed in an arc instead of a vertical strike. "Elbow higher, weight on the right foot! Transition, firmer grip, lunge! Better."
Skywalker slowed down and tried to focus on the precision of his movements instead of speed. It helped. The blade felt slightly lighter, and it was easier to control. His memory helpfully suggested what to do and how to move correctly, and his body seemed to follow his thoughts instinctively.
"My Lord," the voice of the red-skinned Zabrak came from Revan's right. "He's..."
"Yes," the master nodded. "He's using the Force, still unconsciously, but effectively."
Having waited for the complex of exercises to finish, Revan ordered him to repeat everything from the beginning, then again, and again.
On the fifth attempt, Anakin was able to perform all the moves, steps, and strikes flawlessly, earning him praise from his master.
"Well done," Revan nodded to him. "Now rest and observe."
"Yes, Master."
"Maul, your turn." The master nodded toward the center of the hall. "Sparring, sabers only."
"At your command, My Lord." The Zabrak bowed and followed the instructions, stepping into the middle of the room and assuming his combat stance. Revan shed his cloak and took a position opposite Maul.
The blades activated simultaneously. Revan lowered the tip of his saber slightly toward the floor in anticipation of a sweeping strike from his apprentice, but Maul managed to surprise him. Instead of a straightforward, headlong attack, as the Zabrak usually favored to start a fight, he shifted sideways and delivered a quick sweep with his staff, forcing Revan to step back. However, the successful start did not spare the apprentice from a return thrust that nearly grazed his left arm. He had to release the staff to save his arm, only to instantly snatch it up again halfway to the floor. He had to escape the wide arc of the silver blade with a combat roll, only to transition immediately into a defensive posture.
Even after his first training sessions with Revan, Maul realized he had major problems with his defense. Since then, he had trained tirelessly, trying to correct this flaw. He had been taught as an aggressive, offensive fighter, and it was quite difficult to reprogram himself. His body constantly yearned to lunge, attack, and tear his opponent apart. But Maul knew perfectly well that his master was just waiting for this, ready to block the strike and counter. And the Zabrak was not sure he could parry the return blow.
Revan used only a single blade, yet he pressed the Zabrak so hard that it felt to Maul as if he were facing not one, but eight blades. The apprentice barely managed to parry the attacks, utilizing all his natural agility and fencing knowledge. The staff spun with frantic speed, clashing with its silver counterpart almost every moment.
The master was smiling. However, Maul had no time to study his teacher's expression. Revan executed a quick series of strikes, followed by another, even faster. In the blink of an eye, the Zabrak received three scorch marks on his chest, and his staff went flying.
"Good," the master summarized, withdrawing his saber from the Zabrak's throat. "I didn't expect to see Makashi applied with a staff from you so soon. You surprised me."
"Thank you, My Lord," Maul bowed his head.
"You still spread your arms too wide on the backswing and expose your left side. Hmm..." Revan considered how to adjust the technique of the already well-trained Zabrak. "I have an idea. Starting tomorrow, you will partner with HK and practice Soresu. Believe me, HK will find every hole in your defense, so be vigilant."
"Yes, My Lord," Maul replied, slightly stumbling over the words. The Zabrak had once watched the killer droid and Skywalker train. The machine was ruthless and terrifyingly efficient. A chill ran down the apprentice's spine as he realized the mechanical maniac would now be dealing with him.
Revan used Telekinesis to return the staff to the Zabrak.
"One more time."
"Yes, My Lord."
The opponents clashed again. Maul tried to heed the remarks, but he failed to quickly restructure his well-practiced movements. In the end, he began to lose his tempo, which the master exploited, ending the fight much quicker than the previous one.
"You are unfocused," Revan frowned. "My remarks should not throw you off balance. Do not let emotions cloud your mind. Remember, it is the Sith who uses his feelings, not the other way around."
"Forgive me, My Lord," Maul bowed, feeling the irritation caused by the failure gradually recede.
"You should meditate and organize your thoughts. I feel a hurricane raging inside your soul. Fear, anger, resentment... and it is all directed at yourself." Revan stepped closer to his apprentice. "Self-flagellation is useless, as is self-pity. Accept the criticism, recognize the mistakes, and correct them. That is the only way to continue growing."
"I... I will try, My Lord."
Seeing that his words were not achieving the desired effect, Revan decided to try a different approach.
"Apprentices, you have worked well. Now we need to properly analyze the lesson to find your own mistakes," Revan said, getting their attention. "You also need to get used to the feeling of each other's presence in the Force so that this sensation doesn't distract you. For this, we will now have a joint meditation session."
"Joint?" Anakin asked, "You mean all together?"
"Yes."
From Maul's expression, it was clear he was not thrilled by the prospect but was not going to disobey his master.
"What is it like?"
Both apprentices were not particularly strong in meditation. In the past, Maul had frankly neglected any non-combat aspects of the Force, and Anakin was a complete novice with insufficient experience. But over this month, Revan had managed to drill into his turbulent pupils' heads that meditation and self-development were the foundation of all foundations.
The three Force-sensitives sat in a circle, adopting the meditation posture.
"Feel the flow of the Force passing through you and your ally," the master spoke, following his own instructions. "Sense its presence. Look inside..."
Revan faltered when he felt something was wrong. The Force suddenly surged over him, like a tsunami wave, carrying his consciousness far away. The sensation of dizzying flight receded as quickly as it had appeared, and Revan barely managed to focus his sight, realizing he was standing on the ruins of some building. Before him lay a huge, once-majestic, but now nearly demolished city. A very familiar city...
A chill ran down the former Jedi's spine as he began to guess the place that had appeared to him in such a clear vision. Revan slowly raised his eyes to the sky and saw exactly what he feared most. A sky covered in storm clouds and countless lightning strikes that illuminated the ground with their flashes.
Revan knew this place well. Here, he had met the Emperor in battle twice and failed both times. Here, he had spent years in captivity only to break free and lose again. This world had brought him nothing but pain. And... he would have to visit it again. For the figure in a black cloak that had appeared on the horizon before disappearing into the ruins of the Citadel had clearly beckoned him to follow.
With an effort of will, Revan broke the meditation and dispersed the vision. The attempt to stand resulted in the former Jedi being forced to drop to one knee. Sweat streamed down his temples, and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. The hurricane of the Dark Side raging on the cursed planet was still distinctly felt, as if he had just been in the Emperor's throne room again.
"Revan! Master!" Anakin rushed anxiously to his master.
"I'm... fine..." Revan replied, breathing heavily.
"What was that? What was that strange and terrifying place?" the child insisted.
Wait... what?
"What?" Revan repeated, realizing what the apprentice had said. "You saw it too?"
The ancient Force-sensitive quickly grasped the notion. They were practicing joint meditation, which meant what one saw, all saw. But for whom was the vision intended?
"My Lord," Maul spoke up. Revan turned his gaze to him. "That world... it is permeated by the Dark Side," the Zabrak articulated. "It beckons and calls to me. Its darkness... it feels like it's sheltering you, like a long-lost child, and promising safety."
Maul's revelation was no surprise to Revan. A part of his own soul felt the same. That world had been the heart of the Sith Empire for many years. It called all acolytes of the Dark Side to it... home. It was lonely...
"And what about you, Anakin?" Revan turned to Skywalker. "What did you feel?"
The boy thought for a moment, trying to recall his sensations.
"Fear," he answered after almost a minute of reflection. "Cold and fear. But... at the same time, a strange feeling... Like in a pod race, when you take a turn at maximum speed, and the chassis barely scrapes against the rocks. It's terrifying and mesmerizing at the same time."
Revan nodded, accepting the answer. Of course, Anakin also had a propensity for the Dark Side, but he held onto the Light.
"That world," the master suddenly stated, drawing the attention of his already focused apprentices, "was Dromund Kaas, the ancient capital of the Sith Empire."
Anakin gasped in astonishment.
Maul froze, gazing at Revan with reverence. He understood what that world was. His previous master had yearned to find a path there. The heart of the Empire! The place of the ancient Lords' grandeur! The second home of the Sith after Korriban!
"And that world is calling us," Revan almost whispered, more to himself than to his apprentices.
"My Lord?"
"The training is over," the master stood up. "Go to your quarters and gather your belongings. We will be leaving Coruscant soon, and possibly for a long time."
"As you command," Maul immediately replied and turned toward the exit.
"We're going there, aren't we?" Anakin couldn't help but ask.
This question made even the Zabrak stop, his hand hovering before the door. He, too, was curious to know the answer.
"Yes," Revan nodded briefly.
Perhaps the decision was hasty, but a month of waiting and the fruitless investigation into his own origins had led the former Sith to the urgent need for a distraction. Tira had insisted on searching for the Mandalore's Mask, but Revan kept postponing it, simply because he didn't know where to start. The Force was silent in response to his pleas for guidance, and all tracks had long been erased by time. His only hope lay with the informants he had contacted on Coruscant. They had promised to find something within a month. The deadline was fast approaching, and yet, there was still no data.
Leaving the training hall, Revan headed toward the building's exit, intent on reaching the docks, leased for the use of the Claws, as quickly as possible via speeder. There, under the supervision of Tira and HK, the final stages of the Dawn's Eagle's modernization were being completed.
"HK." The former Jedi took out his commlink and called the assassin droid.
"Joyful Greeting: I am listening, Master!" A miniature hologram of the droid appeared above the palm-sized disc.
"How is the repair work progressing?"
"Proud Declaration: Master, the meatbag workers have toiled admirably. All systems are practically debugged…"
This statement was immediately followed by the drawn-out, high-pitched whistling of an astromech droid. R2-D2 let out a trill whose censored content would be doubted even by those unfamiliar with the Binary language. Revan, however, was familiar with it.
"Is something wrong, R2?"
In response came an entire tirade of beeps and wails that could be interpreted as the astromech's extreme displeasure that a system he had just debugged had been thoroughly overhauled and reassembled multiple times, forcing him to start his work over. Moreover, the new weaponry consumed too much energy, requiring the installation of an additional power reactor in the right cargo bay.
"Wait, what? What new weaponry?" Revan decided to clarify, as he had clearly not been informed of all the changes to the Eagle's configuration.
"Confused Reply: You see, Master…"
"HK, what have you done? The plan was only to install new engines, a shield generator, and replace the standard plating with armor."
"Hasty Explanation: And so it was, Master! But then, due to the increased mass, the engine configuration had to be changed, energy consumption rose, and a new power source was required. However, reactors suitable for installation on small-class ships produce too much power, resulting in an inefficient waste of resources. That is when the Mandalorian meatbag suggested using the excess energy to power a weapons system. I quote: 'Since this freighter is already armored like a tank, why don't we sharpen its teeth, too?'" HK perfectly mimicked Nomad's voice and intonation.
Revan couldn't resist clapping a hand to his face. He knew he shouldn't have trusted this task to a pair of maniacs.
"What exactly did you do?"
"Clarification: Nothing out of the ordinary. We replaced the standard armament with twin rapid-fire blaster cannons and installed two laser turrets on the upper hemisphere, two more on the lower, and an ion cannon directly above the torpedo launcher."
"What launcher?!"
"Explanation: A small proton torpedo launcher, SPL-77C model, designed for installation on corvettes. It is mounted directly beneath the cockpit, which I find impractical and unsafe; however, the hull of a YT-1930 offers no superior location."
"How did you manage to cram it under the cockpit?!"
"Further Clarification: Two cabins had to be dismantled, a quarter of the mess hall appropriated, and the protein synthesizer relocated, but the weapon fit perfectly."
"Oh, the Force, why me…" Revan mumbled. "That's it, I hope? All the combat modifications installed?"
"Affirmative, Master. Those are all the combat modifications that were installed."
"How much," Revan cut the droid off.
"Clarification: How much, what, Master?"
"How many credits did you waste on all this?"
"Hesitant Answer: Not too much."
"How much, HK?" the former Sith insisted.
"A little over two hundred thousand."
"How much?!"
"Hasty Clarification: Two hundred and thirty-four thousand credits, Master."
"Did you plate it with beskar?! Or replace the viewports with corusca gems? That is nearly three times the price of a brand-new ship! Not a beat-up one! Not from an auction! But fresh off the assembly lines! A new one!"
"Incomprehending Clarification: Master, you yourself approved the budget for the repair and modernization. I have a signed copy, approved by you three weeks ago."
Revan recalled that he had indeed signed a pile of documents during that period, including a couple of datapads slipped to him by HK. It had been pure madness then, dealing with the transfer of Black Sun assets to new owners, the founding of Obsidian, and a hundred other urgent matters.
The former Sith groaned, realizing he was entirely to blame for the situation.
"And how are we supposed to get through commercial ports now? A heavily armed freighter does not inspire confidence," Revan asked, taking a deep breath and slapping his palm against his forehead several more times.
"Unnecessary Elucidation: With a trade license, they will be obligated to let us through, Master. Furthermore, the new hull plating prevents the detection of the installed internal armament. And the visible turret guns do not exceed the parameters permitted for the defense of a small trade vessel."
"Did you at least upgrade the sensor array? Or will we be flying around like blind shyracks with that new armor?"
"Indignant Response: How could you think such a thing, Master! I do not permit such oversights."
"Then prepare the ship for immediate departure. We need to leave Coruscant within the cycle," Revan commanded, already lifting his airspeeder into the air.
"Joyful Exclamation: Understood, Master! Does this mean someone is to be eliminated?"
The former Jedi once again covered his face with his hand. HK was incorrigible. However, where they were headed, such an attitude might just save their lives.
"Quite possibly," Revan replied and disconnected the commlink.
"This is going to be a long flight," the master of the insane droid thought. "But at least the defenses will be better."
The airspeeder hummed softly, drifting steadily toward the spaceport.
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