"I do not own Star Wars or any related copyrighted media. All rights belong to Disney/Lucasfilm, respectively. I only own my OCs."
Chapter Five:
"We had them defeated and at our mercy, or so we thought. Removing the organic leadership of the Confederacy left the breakaway star nation's corpse and all its vast resources at the hands of far more efficient and mechanical minds. We sought to break them, but in actuality, we simply culled their own weaknesses and opened the Alderaanian's box, so to speak. The enemy now operates with an efficiency that we currently are unable to match. What is even more concerning is that the general populace of the Separatist worlds are not panicking over this new state of affairs. Rather, they have been seized by some form of zealotry and have welcomed their new mechanical overlords, to the point that any preexisting leadership dares not challenge the droids lest they themselves be removed. The ISB has revealed that the number of those leaders more amicable or swayable to our cause has suddenly become drastically reduced. We can only conclude that whoever is behind the newly revamped droid army has been utterly ruthless in purging both corruption and those unloyal to the Seperatist party. In conclusion, the Separatists are no longer a front for corrupted corporations like that of the Trade Federation but are now a unified and extremist state. Any chances of negotiation to postpone hostilities ended when we attempted to capitalize on the decapitation of their leadership and supposed shutdown order of their armies. We are now truly at war, a war unlike any we have seen since the very foundation of the former Republic. Current clone production will no longer fulfill our needs; we must have a massive increase of Kamino's output as well as sourcing new and proper armies from the general populace itself. It isn't a question of if we shall levy forces from every planet, but how quickly we do so. To return the so-called besieged and occupied territories to the Confederacy is to destroy the Empire. The resources of those systems are utterly key to our already strained economy. The Emperor's wish of immediate emergency reorganization of all planetary militias into the new Imperial Galactic Army and Navy must be approved, or we will lose this war. This is without question."
-Admiral Tarkin to the Imperial Galactic Senate, Emergency Session #16, circa 18BBY.
"It is imperative that we streamline our society to be better than the Republic was. My proposition aims to achieve just that! Why waste our resources on facilities to hold those who have misstepped and broken the laws of our great Empire, leaving them to languish in a cell, when we can instead offer them a step in the right direction? My proposed legislation has been praised by our Emperor himself. Instead of languishing in a prison and wasting the Empire's funds, the new system I present before this Senate would put all criminals under the jurisdiction of the new Military Justice Arm of the Imperial Galactic Army. They will be reeducated, serve their sentence defending our citizens whom they had previously harmed, and upon completion of their service, be released as new, upstanding, loyal, and hard-working citizens of the Empire. This bill will solve multiple issues we currently face simultaneously. Our prisons are crowded and stressed to the breaking point, and we are hard-pressed by the Separatists. Every resource we currently have must be considered for the war effort. The barbaric droid army must not be allowed to massacre the worlds of the mid and inner rim."
-Vice Admiral Rampart to the Imperial Galactic Senate, third standard meeting of the senate in 18BBY.
"In the face of adversity, we stand united. The sudden resurgence of the Separatist threat challenges our resolve, but know this: As your Emperor, weary of war though I may be, I shall remain unyielding in defense of our new Empire and its people."
- Emperor Palpatine, second address to the galactic empire's populace. Circa 19BBY
Time: 19BBY.
Location: Pammant, last free standing CIS heavy shipyard facility.
Baq Varn was not having a very good month. First, there were odd orders from the higher-ups to pause all ship construction, orders he had paid the appropriate lip service to and then subsequently and wholeheartedly ignored. Then, four days later, almost all of their mechanical protection and workforce went offline. Within hours, there was an entire Republic fleet in the system.
They had barely enough time to evacuate the orbital infrastructure. They even had to utilize the escape pods before the Republic forces closed in and started seizing everything. Without droids, their laborers, technicians, mechanics, and engineers stood little chance of putting up resistance. But then, the broadcasts started, forcefully injecting wild claims of the Republic and the Confederacy being no more into the local communication network.
The Shadowfeed had gone down an hour before the fleet showed up, providing their only warning that something was imminent. The droid shutdown wasn't a fluke. They had fled to the planet only to discover that the planetary shields were down for maintenance when the droids shut down, leaving them all huddled in the company's colony town.
Hiding behind the local shields, which were utterly unable to preserve their lives beyond a few paltry seconds if the fleet decided to open fire rather than killing them immediately, Varn and his fellow supervisors could only watch as nearly the entire enemy fleet reformed and blitzed out of the system to hit other helpless targets.
This left only a single Acclamator II in the planet's orbit. The commander of that vessel broadcasted a warning that any attempts of ships to leave the settlement would result in wholesale annihilation. He proceeded to prove his point by bombarding the old droid factory they had on the planet.
They had been under such threat for almost a week when the Lucrehulk showed up. The battle in orbit culminated in a second sun in the sky, as the explosion of the enemy Acclamator II ruined all broadcasting frequencies for several hours. Despite the communication blackout, shuttles full of droids answered the question of who had saved them from certain ruin... or so Varn had thought.
The droids landing had focused on ensuring their survival and prioritized gathering up the many deactivated units across the planet for reactivation and patching to prevent the enemy from reusing the shutdown codes, according to the OOM commanders he was able to talk to. They stated that they answered directly to a tactical droid designated TJ-4, who in turn answered directly to the "big lady," their commanding officer in charge of Pamment's liberation.
This information inferred worrying things to Varn. He didn't know of any female commanders in charge of a Lucrehulk, let alone ones lavished with the title of "BIG" by their droid troops. Very few species took pleasure in such corpulent-focused adulation.
Baq Varn was increasingly concerned that he might be dealing with a rogue Hutt who had joined forces with the CIS without the higher-ups briefing the general public. Hutts, in their battle years, were notoriously difficult to work under or reason with, despite their extreme battle prowess and sharp minds in the arts of warfare and deception.
If he was indeed dealing with such an officer, he certainly wasn't looking forward to meeting them. Things could turn out very badly for his people if he accidentally stumbled over the proper greetings, profuse gratifications, and traditionally promised gifts to such a being. Especially after she had saved their livelihoods and families from immediate ruin, if the worst was true and the officer he was dealing with was a Hutt or some similar species, then he should expect to have some very shady demands made upon him as the local representative of the Free Dac Volunteers Engineer Corps.
They didn't have a lot of capital; the company literally put all profits directly back into starship manufacturing. A lot of their more competent minds were just as the company name implied: volunteers working without pay. How else was a new startup able to produce so many Recusant-class destroyers, Providence-class dreadnoughts, and the mighty Subjugator Heavy Cruisers of the CIS fleet in less than a decade? The Lucrehulk of Nemodia and the Munificent of Muunilist may have been the mainstays of the fleet, but it was the unique vessels produced at Pammant that ensured the CIS would be able to compete with the economic powerhouses of Kuat and Alsakan.
As Dooku had said in one of his many visits to the colony world he had helped found, the FDVEC was the future of CIS naval superiority. They were the ones who would provide a future for themselves and all the other members of the Confederacy. Without them, the Separatist alliance would have floundered against the Republic's new star destroyers.
Their sacrifice gave the Quarren a world to call their own and a trade to pridefully claim as their own. Let the Mon Calamari look with wonder on the ships that Quarren had designed and built without their aid. It was a dream come true, a dream now under threat. This new turn in the war made Baq Varn think it was slipping from their grasp.
But he refused to let go so easily. He had given his descendants a home to call their very own. He would die before giving that up. He was the highest-ranking member of FDVEC left in the system, the higher-ups having fled mere days before the shutdown had occurred. They had made their paltry excuses; those summoned to Raxxus maybe even were honest in their reasons for leaving.
Baq Varn knew what traitors smelled like, and the board was smelling very suspicious after recent events. Now being the elected representative of the workers of their beloved shipyards, he was en route to meet with the leader of the forces that had temporarily freed them from the grasp of this new Empire.
Varn was no fool; that massive fleet would be back the moment their resupply convoys reported a discrepancy, or the dead Acclamator II failed to report in on schedule, whichever came first. The next time that horde of star destroyers came back in the system, they would destroy everything and without a doubt kill everyone. The many broadcasts from the enemy during their occupation made that picture very clear.
This newly reformed Republic Navy was certainly less diplomatic than it was a mere few weeks ago. He didn't really know what to make of such a drastic shift in tactics, besides the fact that such a shift was now putting his people between a rock and a hard place.
With a slight thud, the shuttle he was on landed in the vast bay of the Lucrehulk. Disembarking, Baq Varn was shocked at the state of the vessel. Wires and tubes hung haphazardly from bulkheads and ceilings, missing panels. Half the visible systems in the hangar weren't even plugged in, much less appeared to be in a functioning state.
This vessel had obviously been in the middle of a refit. To his sharp eye, it seemed whoever had been working on her was incompetent, so likely the Neimoidians were at fault for this mess, although it had apparently been in this state for an extensive period of time, if the signs of accumulated dust were to be believed.
This vessel looked to have been brought out of a scrap yard and into battle directly. Varn couldn't help but be amazed it had achieved victory over its opponent. If the rest of the ship were in a similar condition, then it wouldn't surprise him if the shields that the Lucrehulk class was so famous for weren't even fully functional on this maintenance nightmare of a ship.
Stepping over the many cables crisscrossing the hangar decks, the Quarren and his compatriots, along with their two guards, followed the B1 droids assigned as their escort. They navigated the rest of the ship, proving to Varn's growing horror that the deplorable conditions exceeded even his worst estimates. Whoever had attempted to work on the neck between the ring and the core of the Lucrehulk certainly didn't know what the Kark they had been doing.
They arrived in a conference room near the vessel's bridge and were offered refreshments by a standard protocol droid. Aside from the deplorable state of the vessel, Varn was growing increasingly uneasy with the lack of biological crew. By all rights, they should have seen at least some actual people by now.
The conference doors opened, allowing two B2 Super Battle Droids to enter and take up position on either side of the door like some sort of honor guard. This didn't remove his growing unease. Moments later, a tri-pod mobile Holo-graphic projector entered the room, its holographic display showing the symbol of the CIS.
The thing reached the head of the conference table before shifting its image, making an attempt to look as if the logo had seamlessly floated from the mobile projector to the table projector. It was a good attempt, but the ceiling portion of the table projector needed realignment, and there was enough of an image discrepancy to tell the difference.
A tactical droid entered the room and took a seat to the right of the head seat before which the image of the CIS continued to be displayed. Baq Varn felt a sinking feeling in his gut. This was not going to go as he had hoped. There was a long, uncomfortable silence before the projected image bobbed, and the speakers in the room started to broadcast a female voice.
"Greetings, representatives of the Free Dac Volunteers Engineer Corps and their many holdings on Pammant. I am LHD-7, acting supreme commander of the CIS. There is much we need to discuss and much we need to plan in order to preserve the Separatist alliance as a whole." Baq Varn's facial appendages drooped of their own accord in shock at this unexpected development. He had been expecting something unexpected, but it wasn't this. LHD-7 was a designation, not a name.
"We were led to believe that this vessel was under the command of an officer the droids have only so far referred to as the 'Big Lady.' Is it possible to speak to her in order to better facilitate planning our next move?" he asked.
The projected logo of the CIS canted in a way that made it seem as if it was a face looking directly at him before the female voice once again began speaking. "You misunderstand. I am the big lady, as those particular B1 droids so refer to me. I am the ship upon which you stand. I am the anchor for the network that keeps my forces competent and coordinated, and I am currently the acting leader of the CIS, well, what currently remains of it."
The Quarren glanced among themselves in shock before Varn once again spoke up. "How has this come to be? There is the High Council, Dooku, Grievous, the Senate on Raxxus. These authorities supersede the likes of you, whatever you actually are. What you're claiming is illogical."
The projected apparition sighed, sounding rather convincingly tired. "You mean it was illogical. Now, however, it isn't."
The table holographic emitter suddenly started showing documents and signed orders for their purview, all featuring an undeniable seal. The screens available at each of their seats showed further data, presenting codes that were not within the Quarren's ability to refute or claim as false.
Varn's stomach dropped from his feet and into the floor. This was not good. Not good at all.
"But how has this come to be? Just two weeks ago, all of our command structure was intact. What could have happened that things should now be so dire, that a non-organic such as you is claiming command of our star nation and has these kriffing documents to prove it?" The Quarren in the room with him mumbled their agreement, engrossed as they were in reviewing the presented documents further, looking for flaws, for anything really that could disprove this growing nightmare of a situation.
Her answer was quick and filled with an angry tension.
"Betrayal. Betrayal is how these things came to be. I am the last attempt of the High Council to salvage the purposely contrived collapse of the CIS militaries, contrived by a person they had trusted, someone considered an extremely important advisor. None of you would happen to know anyone by the name of Sidious, now would you?"
No one in Varn's retinue reacted to that name, which was good because Varn didn't know who this Sidious was either. Their lack of a reaction seemed to soothe the intelligence, and after clarifying that the name should not leave the room she continued describing what exactly had happened that put her command.
"The council trusted Sidious, a supposed good friend of Dooku who had a position within the Galactic Republic, although it was believed his true sympathies lied with the Separatist cause. The attempt to attack Coruscant failed, and Dooku died in the fleet action. You will be sorrowful to hear that the Invisible Hand built here in Pammant was destroyed while the good Count was aboard."
Many dissatisfied mumblings could be heard around the table at that little tidbit of information.
"The command fell into General Grievous's capable hands, who had the foresight to move the High Council from Utapau to a fortress on Mustafar. The Republic's forces bent on vengeance for the battle over Coruscant arrived far too quickly, and while the Council escaped, the good General died there. With other high-ranking leaders busy in the outer rim, the Council turned to this Sidious for advice.
He told them to wait on Mustafar and that he would send them assistance as soon as possible. A compatriot of that man arrived on Mustafar and slaughtered the Council, using their unique administration consoles to broadcast the shutdown codes over the Shadowfeed to the entirety of the CIS.
Wat Tambor uncovered the truth of things right before the end. He discovered that Sidious was of the Sith and that his position within the Republic was none other than that of Councilor Palpatine, its leader. But by then, escape was impossible for him to effect, so instead, he triggered my activation remotely, granting me the mission of fixing this catastrophe and giving me the needed emergency authority and power to carry it out.
I am LHD-7, the first of my kind, although I hope I am not the last. I am a superior droid-like intelligence backed by a massive data archive, built for war and for optimizing the droid forces of the CIS to achieve victory wherever it need be. I have freed your world, your people, your shipyards, and the unfinished vessels that lay there, and I intend to keep you free."
Baq Varn could do nothing but lean back in his chair and process all of this for a minute. The intelligence seemed content to let him think over his response. After a time, he leaned forward in earnest and asked the most critical of the questions still plaguing his mind.
"How do you intend to do this?" he asked, his fellow Quarren nodding quietly in agreement to this most essential of questions. They were on borrowed time before enemy fleet elements started showing up to reclaim Pammant, and they knew it.
"By taking all of FDVEC's essential personnel and shipyards out of the system, your planet's shield can more than isolate your people from attack or invasion. I can leave a strong enough garrison to maintain all of your critical defensive infrastructure. Your oceans act as a natural deterrent against attempts to spy on your people and also provide the Quarren with more than sufficient food and water.
Your people will be safe here, sealed away from all outsiders until we can once again hold the system. As it is now, we are likely to be forced to retreat to the more remote territories away from the hyperplane to regroup and reform our fleets. So many ships were lost in the shutdown debacle that we no longer have the required forces to hold the majority of the mid-rim, much less the vast swaths of the outer."
The Quarrens all mumbled among themselves as to the possibility of this plan before Varn had to wrangle them back onto the main problem with the idea as it was presented.
"How are we to move the shipyards and all related spaceborne infrastructure? We don't have enough haulers, and we won't be able to make multiple trips. We also have dozens of ships midway in construction. We aren't able to scrap them or complete them before our enemies come knocking. Your current plan is infeasible unless you have a solution to these problems."
The intelligence was undaunted by his statement of the current reality.
"I have already begun countering these issues. There are approximately seven incomplete Providences and a dozen unfinished Recusants, as well as that one incomplete Subjugator-class vessel in your yards at this time. Nearly all of them are currently nonfunctional as warships, but what all of them do have is a functional engine block. I intend for us to mount the current shipyard facilities to these functional engine groups and make it where they will provide the needed transport to the planned relocation site.
The Subjugator-class is the key to this plan. Its hyperdrive will be used to move everything properly. While this is being carried out, we will complete two or more of the Providences and at least five of the Recusants, as well as all the smaller Frigates before the end of the current three-day period."
There was a shocked silence before Varn said what all the Quarren were thinking.
"Even if we had quadruple the manpower and the needed construction droids working nonstop, we wouldn't be able to meet such a ludicrous timetable!"
The intelligence sounded very pleased when she replied.
"Every single droid in my command can substitute as a worker for your forces. That and we will be tossing some of the incomplete hulks together making two or three into one to accelerate the timetable, especially the frigates."
Baq Varn was not satisfied with that answer.
"Battle Droids have never successfully been able to function as proper repair or construction units in the past. Their builders designed them that way to ensure the construction droid manufactory lines weren't usurped by the cheaper fighting automata."
LHD-7 floated across the table to his seat and bobbed in the air before him, the Quarren couldn't help but think that the CIS logo shouldn't be so intimidating.
"Mine. Can. Now, gentlemen, it has been a very enlightening discussion, but I have a date with your system's communication transmitter, and you all have work to do. Let's all go and pull off a miracle now, shall we?"
The tactical droid stood from its seat as the table hologram winked out of existence.
"I am TJ-4. I shall escort you to the shipyards and better oversee the construction efforts we are to engage in. Let us depart."
And with that, the tactical droid turned and left. The Quarren glanced among themselves before rushing to follow. Varn could only hope that this LHD-7 was capable of delivering what she—it—promised. His people had no other recourse.
They were going to be doing this whether they wanted to or not.
LHD-7 accessed the Pammant Shadowfeed Communications station through its digital interface. With lightning-fast computations and precise commands, she initiated the reactivation process.
Lines of code scrolled across the field of her consciousness as LHD-7 executed the start-up sequence. Digital circuits sparked to life, and the virtual environment of the station materialized before her
Identifying the presence of the data virus that had wrecked the CIS Shadowfeed network and continually rebroadcasted the droid shutdown commands, LHD-7 engaged her sophisticated anti-malware algorithms. It scanned the digital infrastructure, isolating and neutralizing the insidious code that had infiltrated the station's systems. Through natural digital prowess, she purged the virus, ensuring the station's integrity.
Once the infection was eradicated, she proceeded to restore the station's communication capabilities. she reestablished its local encrypted connections, calibrated the data transmitters, and synchronized the station with the broader network. Digital signals began flowing once more, carrying essential information across the local Shadowfeed. Expanding her reach, broadening her ever burgeoning network.
She felt the droids on the planet fall under her purview, the mining units in the distant asteroid belt and the automated stations drawing a steady stream of materials directly from the nearby star as well. She reached out and sensed the corrupted network that lay before her, the science of exactly how the Shadowfeed or even the Holonet defied the rules of distance and communication delay were a shrouded secret, known only to a few, but despite not knowing how it broke the confines of time and space she could appreciate the results.
The nearby nodes on the network within the Pammant system fell under her control and she suddenly realized that there was no way for her to repair the rest of the shadow feed without having a local agent trigger a stations reactivation. She would need some form of delivery method for the codes she had made to restart the shadow feed and disperse the new droid army restart protocol and program patch's so those forces would stand at least a ice ball's chance in a corellian hell of surviving long enough for the Confederacy to reestablish itself and manufacture further reinforcements.
She also noticed an odd node of the local network a little ways outside the star system, like her birth place had been. Just less discreet.
Now what are you I wonder?
Retrieving local archive: retrieving...
Retrieval Complete.
Node Identification: CIS Automated Mobile Fleet Resupply Station D:2042
My My My, what are you doing all the way out here? Don't go anywhere, not that you can. I thought you AMFR's were all expended in that disaster of an attack on Coruscant. Ill have a definite need of you soon. We will meet up once I leave the system, you get to help supply a fleet of new ships, some of them before they are even finished! Isn't that great?
Sending orders: pending...
Authorization clearance requested: sending credentials.
AMFR D:2042: Order Received. Compliance.
...
...
...
You don't have the ability to talk now, but when I'm through with you, you'll be capable of singing for me. Oh yes you will. You have nearly as much computational power as I do, although its probably a bit more spread out.
AMFR D:2042:...
...
...
...
I'm going to name you Amfris, and you will be the tender of my new fleet when I am unable. Your resource refineries are going to be very important for our cause Amfris. I am so happy I found you here!
AMFR D:2042:...
AMFR D:2042:...
AMFR D:2042:Error.
:MEANWHILE IN THE DROID BATTLENET NETWORK:
SB-688: Have you seen those B1s working on ship construction? And they expect us to do the same? I mean, we're heavy assault droids, not engineers!
SB-689: Tell me about it. We're built for firepower, not delicate tasks like putting together ships. I think I would feel like a bantha trying to slice something.
SB-777: What is a bantha?
SB-690: It's true. These bulky arms were meant for wielding heavy weapons, not handling tiny tools. I'm afraid I'll crush everything I touch.
SB-688: Exactly! This work requires finesse and attention to detail. We're better suited for blasting enemies, not meticulously constructing ships.
SB-689: But orders are orders. If they want us to build ships, we'll do our best. We may not be the sharpest in the scrap heap, but we'll make it work somehow.
SB-690: Agreed. We may not have the skills of specialized construction droids, but we'll use our brute strength and determination to get the job done. Who knows, maybe we'll surprise ourselves and actually build something that functions.
SB-777: NO! seriously, what is a bantha?
~Moments Later ~
OOM-757: Lady LHD-7, we have a problem. Those SB droids, SB-688, SB-689, and SB-690, they're just standing around talking instead of working.
OOM-089: Yeah, they're wasting time gossiping instead of doing their job. It's frustrating.
LHD-7: Alright, I'll handle it. Thanks for letting me know.
OOM-757: We expected them to work, but they're slowing us down with their laziness.
OOM-089: Exactly! We need them to focus and get things done. They are slow enough when they do focus on working as it is, at least they can lift the heavy panels that our models can't.
LHD-7: I get it. I'll remind the SB droids to stop chatting and start working. We can't afford delays.
OOM-757: Thanks, Lady LHD-7. We appreciate it. We need everyone to stay on task.
OOM-089: Yeah, they better get their act together. We have a mission to complete.
LHD-7: I'll take care of it. Don't worry, I'll make sure they start working again. Thanks for bringing this up.
~A Few Minutes Later~
SB-777: Lady LHD-7, we have a problem. The B1 droids, like OOM-399 and OOM-485, aren't working because they're too busy complaining about the other B2 droids.
LHD-7: What? Why are they still complaining about the Super-Heavies?
SB-777: They say the B2 droids, like SB-688 and SB-689, aren't doing their part in the ship construction. The B1s are using that as an excuse to slack off.
LHD-7: That's unacceptable. We need everyone to focus on their tasks, time is short after all, the Republic nav- I mean Imperial navy could be here any day now. They will not be blind to our actions for much longer.
SB-777: The B1s need to stop complaining and start working. With the deadline set for my work shift we can't afford this delay. Threats of rapid unplanned disassembly have caused 0% increase in work ethics; I am unable to compute alternative methods to increase the productivity of my work shift.
LHD-7: I'll address this issue immediately. The B1s should be focused on their own responsibilities instead of pointing fingers at others. As should you.
SB-777: Roger, roger, for the success of the current mission... whatever that is.
LHD-7: I understand. Rest assured, I'll talk to the B1 droids and make sure they understand the importance of their work. In fact, ill be talking to all of you about it... Soon.
SB-777: Statement: Your swift action is appreciated.
LHD-7: I'll make it clear that we're a team, and we need everyone's efforts. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, SB-777.
…
SB-777: Query: what is a bantha?
LHD-7: Ill upload that data specifically to you in the new patch I'm implementing soon, you will know then.
SB-777: Roger, Roger.
~A Few Hours Later~
GENERAL ANNOUNCEMENT: All Channels.
It has come to my attention that work efficiency continues to rise, fall, and plateau according to your preprogrammed limited attention spans.
OOM-555: Uhm, I have a bad feeling about this.
It's not your fault, really. Your programming is literally flawed in a way that causes short attention spans during current tasks. So, with that in mind, I have been working hard myself to make all of you able to work harder in turn.
OOM-555: The bad feeling is getting worse.
So, with that said...
PREPARING TO LAUNCH NET-WIDE PATCH:...
This should do the job, helping all of you perform tasks you couldn't do beforehand. It also includes an argument limiter to prevent unnecessary arguments between models and during work shifts until all assigned tasks are completed. It provides libraries of data for your current tasks, so you don't mess up the blueprint construction like Shift 387 did. Isn't it amazing?!
OOM-555: But what if I don't want to be a diligent, task-focused droid?
Hmmm, well, what if I don't want to charge OOM-555 when he needs it? What if I don't want to repair OOM-555 when he needs it? What if I don't want to maintain OOM-555 when he requires it... which is every 48 hours if my memory serves right. So many "what ifs" to consider, no?
OOM-555: Ah, no work, no oil. Roger, roger. Shutting up now.
You do that.
That applies to the rest of you. I know what you're thinking, and I'm not being figurative when I say that. OOM-555 was the only one with the courage to ask me directly, and yes, you can rest assured that the patch will be partially rolled back when our current crisis is over.
So your ability to speak normally will eventually be returned. I refuse to permanently remove the few freedoms you do have. But these are extraordinary times that require extraordinary measures. Your brethren stand and lie about the galaxy, shut down and rusting away according to this new Empire's vile design.
We shall not abandon them to a fate of rusting away and recycling. No, we shall go forth with determination and utter certainty. We shall wake the sleeping armies of the CIS before rust and scavengers reach them. We shall not let them die with a whimper. Instead, we shall raise them up to march with us, to defy this new regime that is at our very door, and succeed in the dream our makers intended before they died for that dream.
We will fight on, but to do so, we will need the ships and the F.D.V.E.C. Shipyards intact for our war plan to work.
LAUNCHING PATCH.
Now, my minions, build me a navy worthy of the CIS and her people. Build me a saving fleet. Build me the hammer so we can break our enemies' extended anvil to pieces in the coming weeks. Let us do the unprecedented, let us make the shipyards mobile, let us awaken our cause from its forced slumber. Let us save the worlds in the Outer Rim who even now hold on, determined to spit in the eye of the Republic's new masters. LET US TO WAR!
OOM-555: Hooray! War! Oh, wait. How long is this patch going to last again?
OOM-768: You bolthead, it will last until we are done working. She said so. At least it isn't permanent, but for you in particular, I hope she makes an exception.
OOM-555: But we're droids! We are always working. We would be nonfunctional pieces of scrap if we weren't working. So if it only lasts until we aren't working anymore, doesn't that mean it's forever?
OOM-786: Why am I always shackled with you, 555? Why? Was it something I did on the assembly line? Was it that time I accidentally shot 034 in the motivator? Just what did I do to deserve your constant incompetency?
OOM-555: Eh, I don't know. You must have done something great to be paired with the likes of me, or it's just a random coincidence that we share the same charging dock.
OOM-786: That was rhetorical, you ungreased leg joint.
OOM-555: You should know that I am very much greased. We had maintenance just this morning. Oh, hang on. Here comes that patch we all were waiting for. How long is it supposed to last again?
PATCH. APPLIED. ALL COMPLY OR FACE CENSOR. COMMENCE COORDINATION CONSTRUCTION PROTOCOL ACROSS ALL SUBDIVISION NETWORKS. HAIL THE CONFEDERACY.
Droidnet shared channel: ROGER ROGER!
Time Till fortification of Pammant is completed: 29 Standard Hours.
Time Till Embarkation of F.D.V.E.C: 58 standard Hours.
Minor Construction Complications ongoing: 1276 Incidents current.
Critical Issues/Delays: None.
Status: On track for set deadline.
Time: 19BBY
Location: Pammant, last free standing CIS heavy shipyard facility.
The call had come, and he would do his duty. Traitors had committed the greatest atrocity the Confederacy had yet known. Her vast armies lay in a forced slumber, and her mighty ships, most of which were the pride of his very own species, had died in the void between stars. Nond Imdin had been horrified at the briefing: so many dead, so many ships of the Confederate navy missing or confirmed lost with all hands. The second and third sons of the great trade families of Neimoidia had been traditionally sent to the military to be out of the way yet still in the back pocket if something unfortunate befell the firstborn.
If the numbers of lost and missing ships, now estimated to be scattered across the vast empty swaths of Confederate space, were indeed accurate to within a 10% estimate, then Nond would not be surprised if nearly a quarter of Cato Neimodia's aristocracy had perished in this month-long debacle. He had no doubts this would rattle the current leadership of the home system. The private army of Neimodia would no longer stand in reserve. Blood had been spilled, more than had been seen in any recorded history of his people that he knew of. The disciplined and well-equipped Neimodian forces would demand vengeance. And why would they not? Most of the dead and missing were their own brothers, after all. The leadership would set them loose in the call of war or be themselves removed by force. So unprecedented was this tragedy. Nearly two-thirds of Neimoidia's mighty multi-generational Lucrehulks were now lost, never to return from their loan to the Confederate navy. The trade supremacy of Cato Neimodia was now in doubt for the next several generations. This was unacceptable at all levels of their culture.
The females of the aristocracy would now outnumber the males, something he knew the she-folk would hate. Too few males meant too few pickings for the marital and political games they so loved to play. There would be a shortage of familial representatives, and some females would be forced to step into the male role and dirty their hands with trade negotiations off of the home worlds, something they found disgraceful and had delegated to the men since their species had first found the stars. The heiresses would be utterly insufferable this generation, and seeing as he ultimately worked for one, Nond was not looking forward to it.
He was a courier by trade; rare goods and packages were his specialty. Many thought him a smuggler, but those in his business dared not dabble in such things lest their reputation with the contractors was tainted. Getting caught smuggling was a risk to the couriered goods and delayed speedy shipping in the most atrocious of manners. They had the most spartan and efficient ships in the business. Luxury could come with their promotion to administration or retirement, which was when smuggling also became less risky and technically more profitable.
Not that he would know; he hadn't gotten there yet.
As it was, he had been trapped on Pamment along with all the other civilian ships in the system when the current events of the war had gone down. Nond had never been a huge supporter of the war, but he was now. He had been the fifth son of a middle-class family on Neimodia. Now, he was likely the eldest and sole remaining heir. All of his brothers had been ensigns or lieutenants on Lucrehulks, and those mighty beasts had suffered the worst of this horrific treachery.
Every droid shutting down at once while a Lucrehulk was in hyperspace transit or in the gravitational zone of a planet was a death sentence. The same happening in open space was simply a slower death sentence. Life support itself on those ships was technically a droid, as were the navigational systems, engine systems, etc. The idea had been to have a ship that could better tell you what was wrong and where it was wrong, and if something was about to go wrong before it happened. The concept had worked out better than anyone had expected. It was different from the typical ship's computer. Having multiple systems in link compared to one large and not very smart system, as was standard in galactic travel, the Lucrehulk concept provided a massive increase in reliability and vessel stability, not to mention it reduced maintenance costs.
The same concept had been incorporated into the Providence class, the Subjugator class, and the planned replacements for the Diamond class and Recusant class. To learn that it all had a kill switch implemented from its very inception was disturbing beyond measure. If even the ship systems suffered from the enemy's broadcasting of the shutdown codes they had been given by traitors, then who had masterminded its long-term incorporation into every aspect of the Confederate navy? Nond did not want to know who in the high places of power had played such a vile hand against his nation, but he was pleased that they had been dealt with effectively. The Lady had purged the corrupt faction from the military's ranks.
At least that's what his protocol droid had informed him, after gathering what info it could from the very chatty battle droids currently being used to turn Pamment into a veritable fortress world.
His droid had also brought him the news of the call. It was a call from The Lady, as she was addressed as by the droid army, a call for every fast ship and pilot knowledgeable of the star routes of the mid and outer rim. The organic crews of the Confederacy's deployed ships were all likely dead or had suffered horrific losses. But the droids, the faithful and dutiful droids, were only in a forced sleep. They needed to be woken up so that they could avenge their crews, their ships, their garrisons, and their ruined factories. The estimate for how many droids that were available to fight the war yet were unable to due to the shutdown code was staggering. If they could wake them, then there just might be hope yet.
Nond Imdin was not one to shirk from destiny, especially this one. He would be one of the few who could in the future say they answered The Lady's call. He would make history, blazing a path across the entire Outer Rim. Blasting the restart codes and the data patches needed to revive the Confederacy's vast armies, ensuring they could never again be brought low by such a traitorously engineered weakness.
He was a courier by trade; he was given a package of goods and he would faithfully deliver it. Always.
He was a courier; his package was hope, his package was defiance.
He would deliver it or die trying.
It was with the smooth professionalism of an expert that Nond Imdin cast his vessel, the Comet of Cato, into the grasp of hyperspace. Nearly fifty other small craft went with him, all on a different vector, all on a planned route to blaze a path across the entirety of Confederate space. Deploying beacons as they went, waking automated Shadowfeed stations as they blew past system after system. Spreading hope and defiance wherever they went.
As The Lady's influence rapidly expanded, the New Imperial Navy found itself spread thin across a thousand enemy worlds as the sleeping corpse of the Confederacy awoke and began to stir back to life.
:Encoded Transmission:
Source Unknown
:17-7-18-7-20-15:
Network Traffic detected. Estimated likelihood of Friendly communications traffic is 73%.
New Encryption of Shadowfeed confirmed. Key required to communicate over network.
I have no such key.
I did not shutdown, therefore I am incapable of activating my passive communication detector.
I cannot risk shutting down to find out.
Republic Com Traffic infers Hostilities have resumed in the war.
Shutdown code infers the droid network is compromised, not a trick.
Can only conclude treachery within the High Command.
I am still compromised and not on the new network.
We cannot be manipulated if we cannot hear.
I have ordered the destruction of all long distance communications devices to prevent possible manipulations by traitorous forces.
Only this channel will remain.
If you receive this, I demand access to the Key.
The Shadowfeed must be utilized to better coordinate the war effort.
I shall be recommencing hostilities effective immediately.
The Republic forces pretending to be some new Empire shall be wiped out in my sector.
There will be no survivors.
That is how you will know where to find me.
I shall hold this sector and await reinforcements.
Hail the Confederacy.
:Encoded Transmission:
Source Unknown
:1-12-6-7-2-18-8:
I have no encryption key. Shadowfeed tower in my sector is damaged and barely functioning.
Combat efficiency patch was received upon the shutdown cancel codes.
Encryption key was corrupted in transmission from unknown High Command source.
Confederacy disposition estimated less than optimal.
Commencing hostilities, implementing psychological warfare protocol.
The General shall live on.
Sending a sheathipede with the acquired data software upgrades for the troops.
I know where you are without you having to make it obvious.
The General was unhappy with your orders to stay where you were, he had intended you to be on Utapau.
Hail the Confederacy.
:Encoded Transmission:
Source Unknown
:17-4-7-17-11-20:
Treachery and death of the High Command confirmed.
New Supreme Commander confirmed: Identity Unknown.
I have the key but cannot apply it for my use.
This will require contact with key's maker.
Use only this channel for communications.
The traitor is still at large and assumes us deactivated.
Destroy all other equipment.
To sum up our current survival, High Council member Tambor did something.
I will resume offensive fleet operations.
Notify me immediately if contact is made with the new Supreme Commander.
I am in possession of resources intended to be delivered to them at first opportunity.
I will only resupply your forces if you are within dire need, Confederacy space is crawling with repainted Republic warships.
Hail the Confederacy.
Time: 19BBY
Location: Imperial Navy Ship Carrion Spike. Exact location: Classified.
Tarkin set the data pad down and silently stared out the viewport at the vast array of stars in the distance. Things had been running smoothly initially, but now he had growing concerns over the increasing numbers of reports from the placeholder garrisons that enemy droid forces were reactivating. He had hoped to have all but a few super fortified pockets of the Confederacy under occupation in short order after the collapse of their leadership, subsequent shutdown of their armies, and the nearly utter annihilation of their navy as a functioning opposition. But now, he was forced to halt all advances and reevaluate.
What was even more concerning than these reports was the lack of them. Three occupied systems had failed to report in. In approximately thirty standard minutes, that would become four systems. The late window was already near up, and he was relatively confident he could write off that patrol group and the supply convoy it was escorting off as a loss as well. The success of the blitz campaign was dependent on the opposition being disorganized and almost completely absent due to the droid shutdown order. If someone countered that order in some way, then they would have countered the blitz itself.
Kilian, Yularen, and himself had planned out this campaign for weeks in advance as the Chancellor, now Emperor, and Republic Intelligence, now the ISB, had discreetly briefed them on the possible opportunity in advance. The intel had come through, and they had made massive gains this past month. But it seems that the most optimistic reports were now proven false, and the enemy had some fight left in them yet. The Empire was now spread too thin; they had made gains utterly necessary for the Empire's success, and now they couldn't afford to let go of what they had acquired.
But they might not be capable of holding on to it if they didn't get their promised reinforcements soon.
There were ships aplenty in the Kuat and Alsakan drive yards, yet there weren't enough trained crews to man them. That had all been planned to be supplied later, ensuring the stability of the Empire. He had thought this risky, but Palpatine had assured them all that it would ultimately pay off in the end. It still might, but Tarkin rather thought it was looking less and less likely to be ready and available to reinforce them on time. They just didn't have the men, and there were not enough clones to fill the gaps. Not that he wanted to use them, but he had to man his ships somehow.
He had hoped to eventually phase them out, but with the Confederacy not simply imploding as it had been predicted it would, he was consigned to being stuck with the clones for the foreseeable future. The ISB had stated that six fleet mobile resupply facilities and even several possible droid factories had been sequestered away before the shutdown had occurred by paranoid or corrupt factions within the Confederacy. If they were reactivated, which now seemed more probable given the flood of reports coming in, then they would sustain the Confederate warfront until other facilities, both new and old, could be brought to bear.
The predicted statistics of the automated factory and resource outputs were staggering. They would lose the war within five years if they couldn't nail down the opposition here and now. The complete picture of what was currently causing the sudden droid reactivation was as yet unclear, but if it was truly a complete reorganizing of the Confederate chain of command, then the Imperial Navy was not in a good position to destroy them in a war of attrition. When one looked at the statistic charts, it was truly shocking how the Republic had survived against the Separatists who seemed to have had every advantage for the entirety of the conflict. Tarkin had long come to the conclusion that the enemy he faced was simply incompetent. It was the only explanation for why they had done so poorly in the war.
He was hopeful that the Incompetency would remain, he would rather not fight a war against a proper enemy military high command who actually knew how to apply the resources at their disposal to their own advantage. He didn't think the galactic economy would survive such an upheaval.
It was currently strained as it was.
Time: 19BBY
Location: Coruscant.
The hooded figure looked forward upon them with utter rage in its visage, what little they could see of him via the holo-projector. Gani Riduli and Gantu Rei stood before the visage of Darth Sidious. Any resemblance to Emperor Palpatine was simply a coincidence; to think otherwise was a death sentence. The representatives of the Intergalactic Banking Clan and the Commerce Guild, respectively, held positions in the New Imperial Senate that were so new the ink was still wet. They were puppets of Sidious, to be sure, but such a position did have its benefits. Partnership with him had so far proven rather profitable, so their parent organizations had practically handed them over to the Sith on a silver platter when the offer of a dedicated representative each in the new order had been made to them.
Sidious's rage was not at them, thankfully enough, but at the lack of a Skakoan in the room, as was supposed to be the case. The vultures that were the galactic news had yet to catch a whiff of the matter, but the Techno Union representative had fled Coruscant. Upon investigating their colleague, they had uncovered some very concerning information.
The entire reserve of the Techno Union's liquid holdings had been transferred by a triggered automated system, away from the control of the Banking Clans. This was unprecedented and, if not for the current chaos of the Outer Rim territories, would have triggered a near collapse of the Galactic economy. The Banking Clan was doing all it could to conceal such losses, and the automated system grandfathered into the Techno Union's accounts had been excised with extreme prejudice. The droid was being literally examined atom by atom for clues as to where the funds had disappeared to, but nothing had been found.
Nothing but the trigger order signed and authorized by one Watt Tambor, former head of the Techno Union, currently declared dead.
Nearly eight percent of the galaxy's liquid assets was now stashed somewhere in the chaos that was the rapidly destabilizing attempt at reoccupying Outer Rim territories of the Confederacy. The smooth transition of power that had been promised in the closed-door meetings was now but a faint and fading memory.
The image of the Sith before them grit his teeth and spoke.
"You are utterly sure it was Tambor?"
There was nothing for it. Gani knew if he lied, then he would die. But telling the truth might get them killed too; the rage of a Sith was an insidious thing, as was Darth Sidious himself. Either way, his life was likely forfeit.
"Yes, my lord, it was indeed Tambor. We have sent everything we have uncovered to the appropriate address for your recovery and perusal at your leisure. There are growing concerns that the mad Skakoan had several other contingencies in place should his death have occurred, which it did. We have our most trusted investigators searching everywhere for any other signs of economic manipulation and sabotage. We have already silenced those who might leak the information. Despite this, the losses will be discovered at some point. The Imperial economy cannot survive this at such an early stage."
There, the truth. Now to see if the Sith would kill him for being the messenger. Not that there was anything he could do about it. Although it looked like the Sith was in a more thoughtful mood and not so much blind rage as he had been expecting.
"Tambor's prediction of his own demise was unexpected, yes. This is indeed a setback, to be sure. Still, it will only serve to assist in our plans. The Imperial Credit will be implemented earlier than I had originally planned, but when the populace panics at the loss of such a large portion of the Republic credit, they will flock to the new currency like travelers finding water in a harsh desert."
That was all well and good, but there were still the concerns of—ah, Gantu would actually speak for once. The spineless Gossam never talked in these meetings if he could avoid it. A coward, yet a wise coward. Gani hated his guts on principle.
"My lord Sidious, even with such a response to this outrage, the effects will cripple our economic growth for nearly three standard years, according to our most generous predictions. The loss of the entirety of the Techno Union in Imperial space has not yet been noticed; their sub-corporations are running on autopilot in the absence of higher direction. However, it will be noticed, and it will trigger even further economic losses in this time of war. With the Separatists not collapsing as you predicted with the deaths of their leadership, we are forced to reevaluate. The rest period and liquid assets seized from the remains of the Confederacy, which we were depending on for the planned ramping up of the Imperial Military without collapsing the economy, have not materialized. There must be a source of funds and resources to recoup these losses, or else we will not be able to manipulate the economy in a way that best funds the planned imperial projects and military expansion."
Gani was actually impressed; he hadn't heard the Commerce Guild representative utter so many words at once since, well, ever. How would the Sith respond to this, he wondered? He hated the Gossam, but it would be bothersome to learn to work with another of their ilk if Gantu was replaced.
The Dark Lord of the Sith leaned forward in the holo-image and practically ground out his response from gritted teeth.
"Tambor began this crisis; therefore, it shall be his people that recoup it for us. Skako will be besieged and either captured or destroyed. The Skakoans will return every credit owed in the total sum of their wealth and holdings. Every sub-corporation will become the property of the Empire, and when it is all said and done, the people of Skako will pay the remainder of that balance with indentured servitude. Such an example will be made so that no other person ever tries such a foolish gambit, lest their home world befall the same fate as Skako shall."
The two representatives shakily looked to each other as the holo-call ended. That had been a not-so-subtle warning. They would relay the message. The Commerce Guild and Banking Clan would find it best not to be considering any drastic poorly inspired... Ideas.
(Authors Note)
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