Atreides1225 presents
"The Solver War"
Murder Drones belong to GLITCH/Liam Vickers and Star Wars belongs to Disney
Rise
9 BBY - Aboard Factory 19-Epsilon, Planet Velmira, Mid Rim
The sun, a distant and dying ember on the horizon of Velmira, filtered dimly through the thick layers of smoke and industrial smog that hung like a permanent veil over the planet. Velmira was no paradise. It had long been forgotten by the galaxy's elite, known only for its factories, its mines, and the relentless work that fueled the engine of the Empire.
Inside factory 19-Epsilon, the day's labor was already in full swing. Massive, decrepit machines hummed and clanged, filling the air with the ceaseless rhythm of assembly lines. Conveyor belts rattled with metallic parts, and the harsh light from flickering overhead lamps bathed the workers in a pale, sterile glow.
Korin Vela wiped the sweat from his brow, the grime of the factory floor thick beneath his fingertips. He had been on shift for six hours now, though it felt like an eternity. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning metal and coolant, and his muscles ached from the repetitive motion of tightening bolts, welding plates, and adjusting the endless stream ofdroid limbsand chassis that passed before him.
"Another day in paradise," he muttered to himself, his voice lost in the din.
Korin was a man who had long come to terms with his life on Velmira. In his mid-thirties, with a stocky build and the weathered face of someone who had spent too many years in the same dead-end job, Korin had no illusions of grandeur. He wasn't a fighter, wasn't a rebel. He had a wife and two kids back in their small, cramped living quarters in the workers' district. His job—no matter how soul-crushing—kept food on the table. That was enough for him.
Next to him on the line, his colleague Reo Marik, a lean man with sharp features and a sarcastic grin that rarely left his face, was busy piecing together the upper torso of a B1 battle droid, long since decommissioned but now repurposed for more mundane tasks. These once-feared droids were relics of the Clone Wars, now churned out for menial labor.
"Did you hear the latest from Sector 8?" Reo said over the clatter of metal. "Another shipment came in late last night, no records of where it came from. Rumor has it, something big is about to go down."
Korin grunted as he welded a joint on the droid's arm. "Doesn't matter to us. As long as the crates keep coming, we keep working."
Reo chuckled, his voice tinged with mockery. "You ever think about more than just getting by, Korin? I mean, c'mon. We're stuck on this dust ball, working ourselves to death for scraps while the bigwigs in the Empire rake in the real credits."
Korin shot him a glance but didn't respond right away. He had heard Reo's complaints a thousand times. Reo, always full of ideas, always dreaming of a way out, but never willing to take the risk.
"Yeah, well," Korin finally said, setting down his welding tool and running a diagnostic on the half-assembled droid, "dreams don't feed my family."
Reo smirked, leaning against the conveyor belt for a brief moment before getting back to work. "You're a real barrel of laughs, you know that? Remind me to never come to you for life advice."
Korin shrugged. "Just telling it like it is. This is the job. You want out? Good luck finding something better on Velmira."
As they worked, the factory floor buzzed with the low hum of hundreds of other workers and droids moving in synchronized rhythm, each performing their assigned task with mechanical precision. The atmosphere was oppressive, the kind of place where laughter and conversation were ground down to the bare minimum, reserved for quick exchanges between shifts or whispered complaints in the break rooms.
Nearby, Serah, a quiet woman in her forties with dark eyes and a no-nonsense attitude, was monitoring a line of refurbished droid brains, ensuring each one passed inspection before they were installed into their new mechanical hosts. She rarely spoke, but when she did, it was with a sharpness that left no room for argument.
"Vela," she called over to him, not looking up from her station, "keep an eye on the coolant levels. This damn heat's been messing with the circuits all morning."
Korin nodded, grabbing a wrench and moving toward the control console. The heat inside the factory had indeed been rising steadily, a problem they often faced during the summer months when the old cooling systems couldn't keep up with the machinery's output. It made the air feel thick, almost suffocating, and more than a few workers had collapsed from heat exhaustion over the years.
"I got it," he said, adjusting the settings on the console. A hiss of pressurized air erupted as the system worked to cool the assembly lines.
Serah nodded, satisfied, before returning to her inspection.
Across the factory, the large blast doors that led to the storage hangars opened with a heavy clunk, allowing a fresh convoy of supply crates to roll in. The constant movement of materials in and out of the factory was a regular sight, but today, Korin couldn't help but notice a few imperial officers standing near the entrance, clipboard datapads in hand, their eyes scanning the facility with a critical gaze. It wasn't often that high-ranking officials made an appearance here. The sight of their pristine gray uniforms always put the workers on edge.
"Looks like we've got company," Reo muttered, nodding toward the officers.
Korin frowned. Imperial officers rarely meant good news. They were here for a reason, and whatever it was, it likely spelled trouble for someone.
"Just keep your head down," Korin said quietly. "Do your job."
Reo snorted but followed his advice, turning his attention back to the droid he was assembling.
The factory continued its relentless grind as the officers walked the floor, inspecting the workers, occasionally stopping to speak with a supervisor. Korin felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck, though whether it was from the heat or the tension, he couldn't tell.
As the minutes dragged on, the monotony of the work returned. The droid parts flowed down the line, piece by piece, and Korin fell into the familiar rhythm of tightening bolts, adjusting circuits, and running diagnostics. It was mind-numbing work, but it paid the bills.
Several hours later, the shift came to an end. The shrill sound of the shift bell echoed through the factory, signaling the end of the day for Korin and the others. Workers began packing up their tools, wiping the grease and grime from their hands as they prepared to head back to the barracks for what little rest they could find before the next shift.
"Another day, another credit," Reo said with a tired grin, stretching his arms above his head.
Korin simply nodded, too exhausted to respond. His muscles ached, and his mind felt dulled by the endless repetition of the day's labor. As he cleaned up his workstation, he couldn't shake the lingering feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was the officers, or maybe it was just the oppressive atmosphere of the factory, but something about today felt… off.
"You heading out?" Reo asked, slinging his workbag over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Korin replied, his voice low. "I'll catch up."
Reo gave him a curious glance but didn't push. "Alright, don't stay too late. We've got the early shift tomorrow."
As Reo walked off, Korin remained behind, finishing his cleanup in silence. The factory floor was nearly empty now, the night shift workers just beginning to file in. The machines were being powered down for maintenance, the usual din replaced by a quieter, almost eerie silence.
Korin took one last look around the factory before turning to leave, but the sight of the unopened crates in Sector 14 caught his eye. They had been sitting there all day, untouched, unmarked, and apparently forgotten. It wasn't unusual for shipments to be delayed, but something about these crates gnawed at the back of his mind.
He shook his head, forcing himself to ignore it. Whatever it was, it wasn't his concern. He was just a factory worker, and asking questions only led to trouble.
With a sigh, he made his way toward the exit, ready to leave the noise and grime behind for another night.
As Korin trudged through the dimly lit streets of the workers' district, the weight of the day's labor still pressing down on his shoulders, his mind wandered. The hum of the nearby factories blended with the low, constant growl of repulsorlift traffic in the distance. Velmira had changed little in the last decade, but the galaxy? The galaxy had transformed in ways Korin never would have believed possible.
He had been younger—brighter, maybe—when the Clone Wars had raged across the galaxy. Back then, he was just another anonymous factory worker, building whatever the Republic needed to fuel its war machine. He wasn't a soldier, didn't fight on the front lines, but like so many others, he had been swept up in the tide of war. The galaxy had felt uncertain then, fractured by conflict, with no clear path forward. He remembered the constant reports on the HoloNet of distant battles, Jedi victories, and Separatist defeats. But that was all noise to Korin. The war had never come to Velmira directly. Not then.
His footsteps echoed as he passed under the shadow of one of the towering Imperial propaganda posters that lined the street, a stark reminder of who now ruled the galaxy. The empire, with its banners of black and red, its endless parades of stormtroopers and legions of star destroyers. They had brought peace, or at least something close to it, to places like Velmira. In truth, life for someone like Korin hadn't changed much since the Republic had become the Empire. He worked the same job, lived in the same district, paid the same paltry wages to feed his family. The only real difference was the Emperor's face staring down at him from the holo-posters instead of a politician from Coruscant.
Still, he mused, the Empire wasn't all bad.
His boots scuffed against the uneven pavement as he made his way toward his apartment, his body moving on autopilot after years of repetition. The streets were quieter now, the workers of the day shift slowly filtering back to their homes, while the night shift took their places in the factories. Korin glanced around, noting the presence of a pair of imperial patrol troopers in their stark white armor standing at the end of the block. They were a common sight on Velmira these days, ensuring the Empire's laws were followed. It was strange, really. He should have felt more on edge seeing them, but instead, he felt a faint sense of… security.
As much as he hated to admit it, the imperials had done something right. Pirates, smugglers, and crime syndicates that once plagued the Outer Rim and even parts of the Mid Rim like Velmira had all but disappeared. He remembered the days when freighters would vanish from the system, stolen away by marauders, and when local gangs controlled whole sectors of the city. Those days were over. The imperial military, with its fleets of star destroyers, regiments of stormtroopers, and brigades of Imperial Army troopers, had crushed most of the lawlessness.
For someone like Korin, that meant he could walk home after a long shift without worrying about getting mugged or shot. The Republic , for all its good intentions, had been too weak, too corrupt to manage that. He'd heard plenty of stories about how the Senate was always bogged down in debate, how nothing ever got done unless it benefited the core worlds. On Velmira, the Republic had been a distant, almost abstract idea. The Empire, though? The Empire was real, and its presence was felt everywhere.
Korin's thoughts turned to the Jedi. He'd seen the broadcasts like everyone else. The emperor, then Chancellor, had declared that the Jedi had betrayed the Republic, had tried to stage a Coup, they had called it. The Jedi, traitors to the Republic, were wiped out in a single, coordinated strike. Korin had been skeptical at first. The Jedi were revered as protectors of peace, keepers of justice. It didn't sit right with him that they would betray everything they stood for.
But then again, he had never met a Jedi. Never even seen one in person. What did he know of their true nature? The propaganda was relentless, and over time, Korin had learned to stop caring. Whether they were traitors or not, they were gone. All that mattered to him was keeping his family safe, and the Empire—harsh though it may be—had done that.
Still, there were whispers. He heard them in the workers' barracks, from smugglers and traders passing through the Separatists weren't entirely dead. Some still fought, hiding in the shadows, striking out against the Empire in remote systems. Korin wasn't sure how much of it was true and how much was just gossip, but he supposed it didn't matter. The Clone Wars were over. The battle droids that once filled these factories were now little more than scrap, their programming repurposed for menial tasks.
"Peace," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the city. "They've given us peace, even if it's a cold one."
As he turned the corner into his residential block, the building that housed his modest apartment came into view. It was an old structure, built decades before the rise of the Empire, with cracked duracrete walls and flickering overhead lights that cast a dull, orange glow across the street. He didn't mind its dilapidated state. It was home, and that was enough for him.
His pace slowed as he approached the door, the weight of the day finally catching up with him. He let out a deep sigh, his eyes scanning the familiar building. The small part of him that once dreamed of more—of a life beyond the factories and the assembly lines—had long since quieted. Now, he was content. Content to provide for his wife and children. Content to ignore the larger struggles of the galaxy in favor of the simple, small existence he carved out for himself here.
The galaxy might have changed, but for Korin, life was more or less the same.
As he reached the door to his apartment, he paused, his hand resting on the rough, metal surface. The sounds of life inside reached him—the quiet hum of a holovision in the background, the muffled voices of his children playing in the next room. He smiled to himself. This was what mattered. Not the politics of the Empire or the fate of the Jedi. Not even the conflicts still raging across the stars.
Korin knocked gently on the door, knowing it would swing open in just a few seconds, revealing the warmth and comfort of his family.
As he stood outside his door, the familiar hum of life within his home reached him—his children's muffled voices, the faint murmur of the holovision, and the comforting clatter of plates being moved. When the door slid open, his wifeIragreeted him with a warm smile.
"How was work?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose bun, the faint lines of a long day etched into her face, but her eyes remained bright.
Korin sighed and gave her a tired smile, stepping through the threshold. "Same as usual. Long, but… fine for the most part. Got the new batch of droids up and running. We're ahead of schedule for the month."
Ira raised an eyebrow. "Ahead of schedule? Well, there's a first." She chuckled lightly, though there was always an underlying concern in her voice when she asked about his work. She knew how grueling the shifts were, especially as the factory's quotas kept increasing with the Empire's demand.
Korin bent down and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "Don't worry. It's nothing I can't handle."
She gave him a look that said otherwise but didn't push. "Dinner's ready. Come on, the kids have been waiting."
As Korin entered the dining area, the sound of cutlery clinking on plates filled the room. His children, Laris and Tev, were already seated, chattering excitedly about something. The sight of them, so animated and full of life, made the weariness of the day melt away. He moved to his seat at the head of the table, the warm smells of stew and freshly baked bread greeting him.
"Papa!" Tev, the younger of the two, barely seven years old, bounced in his seat, his eyes wide. "Guess what I learned today at school!"
Korin chuckled, taking his seat. "Alright, alright, calm down, Tev. What did you learn today?"
Tev puffed out his chest, his face serious. "We learned about the Clone Wars! About how the Empire saved everyone from the bad Separatists. And how the Clonetroopers and now Stormtroopers protect us now."
Laris, who was a few years older, rolled her eyes at her younger brother's enthusiasm. "It wasn't that exciting. The history holos made it sound way more dramatic than it was."
Tev frowned, sticking out his tongue. "You're just mad 'cause I like stormtroopers."
Korin glanced over at Ira as she set the last dish down on the table. She gave him a half-smile and shrugged as if to say,Kids.
He leaned back in his chair, spooning a bit of stew onto his plate. "Well, Tev, it sounds like you're learning important stuff. History's good to know." He paused, glancing at his son. "So, stormtroopers, huh? Is that what you want to be when you grow up?"
Tev's eyes lit up, nodding fervently. "Yes! They look so cool, Papa! They have blasters and armor and fight bad guys."
Korin chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Stormtroopers, huh? Well, they certainly look… intimidating."
Laris chimed in, her tone more serious. "I don't want to be a stormtrooper. I want to be apilotin the Imperial Navy. I want to see the stars! Fly through the galaxy and explore."
Korin smiled at his daughter. "A pilot? That's ambitious, Laris. The Navy could use smart minds like yours."
Ira, who had been mostly quiet, finally spoke up, her voice carrying a slight edge of concern. "The Empire's military isn't the only option, you know. There are plenty of other things you could both be when you grow up."
Korin noticed the slight tension in her tone and gave her a gentle nudge with his foot under the table. "They're just dreaming, Ira. Let them dream a little."
Ira sighed, but her expression softened as she looked at her children. "I know. It's just… there's so much more to life than blasters and uniforms."
Korin winked at his kids. "Your mother's right, you know. There's always room to think about other things. But hey, if you end up chasing those dreams of yours, who's to say you won't make it?"
Tev grinned wide. "I'll be the best stormtrooper ever! You'll see!"
Laris smirked, but there was a glint of determination in her eyes. "I'll fly circles around you in my TIE fighter."
Korin laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Just don't get too far ahead of yourselves. You've still got plenty of time before you're wearing helmets or flight suits."
The family continued their meal, the conversation light and filled with the warmth of small, ordinary moments. For Korin, these dinners were the highlight of his day. No matter how hard the factory work was, how monotonous the routine, it all faded away when he sat down at this table with his family.
After dinner, they all helped clean up. Tev and Laris, still full of energy, raced each other to see who could finish clearing the table first. Ira watched them with a soft smile, shaking her head at their antics.
As the evening wore on, Korin helped tuck the children into bed. He sat on the edge of Tev's bed as his son snuggled under the covers.
"Papa," Tev whispered, his small voice cutting through the darkened room, "do you think I could really be a stormtrooper?"
Korin smiled down at him, ruffling his hair gently. "You can be whatever you want, Tev. Just make sure it's what you really want."
Tev's eyes fluttered closed, a small, content smile on his face. "Okay… I'll think about it."
As Korin left his son's room, he lingered for a moment in the hallway, peeking in on Laris. She was already fast asleep, her holobook on starship models still open on her bedside table. Korin gently closed the book and turned off the small bedside light.
When he returned to the living room, Ira was waiting for him. She had already cleaned up the last of the dishes and was sitting on the edge of their small, worn sofa, her arms folded over her chest. Korin moved to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
"You know," she said quietly, "I just… I just want them to be safe."
"I know," Korin replied, pulling her a little closer. "I do too. But they're kids. They'll change their minds a dozen times before they decide what they want."
Ira sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I suppose. I just don't want them getting swept up in this whole Imperial machine. The Empire… it's not like the Republic was."
Korin didn't respond immediately, simply holding her close. He didn't fully disagree, but he also didn't want to shatter the fragile peace they had here. "They'll be alright," he said finally. "We'll make sure of that."
After a few moments of comfortable silence, they both rose, heading to their bedroom. The apartment was quiet now, the day's work and worries behind them. Korin changed into his sleep clothes, climbing into bed next to Ira. The weight of the day finally settled into his bones, exhaustion pulling him toward sleep.
As he lay there, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, his mind drifted once more to the wider galaxy. The Republic was gone, the Empire now in its place. And despite the undercurrent of unease that Ira felt, despite his own quiet doubts, Korin knew one thing for certain: this life, this small, ordinary life they had carved out here—it was enough for him.
He shifted closer to Ira, pulling the blankets over them both. "Goodnight," he whispered.
She murmured a soft reply, already half asleep.
And with that, Korin let himself fall into the peaceful embrace of sleep.
The morning light streamed through the windows of their small apartment as Korin Vela kissed his wife goodbye at the door. His children, still half-asleep, waved groggily from the kitchen table where they were finishing breakfast. Tev was busy squishing his food into shapes, while Laris absently poked at her cereal, her mind likely drifting toward whatever new starship design she had been studying.
"Bye, Papa!" Tev called out, his voice bright despite the early hour. "Don't forget to bring me back one of those stormtrooper helmets!"
Korin chuckled. "You'll get it when you've earned it, soldier. Maybe one day."
Laris smirked at her brother. "You'd probably trip over your own blaster before you even got it on."
Tev scowled, puffing up his chest in defiance. Korin ruffled both their heads before stepping out into the cool morning air, his boots crunching on the dusty road. He made his way down the streets of the industrial district, where the distant hum of the factory engines grew louder with each step.
The factory itself loomed ahead, an imposing structure of steel and durasteel that had stood long before the Empire came into power. Now, it bore the stark gray banners of the Empire, the symbol of the Imperial crest emblazoned for all to see. It wasn't as if Korin minded the shift from the Republic. In truth, it brought more stability to places like this—a mid-rim world that had often been left to fend for itself during the Clone Wars.
As he arrived at the gates, Korin was greeted by his fellow workers, the small group of them trudging toward the factory's main doors, exchanging the usual tired smiles and nods.
"Korin!" a voice called out from behind him. It was Fenn, one of his closer colleagues, wiping his grease-stained hands on his coveralls as he jogged up to him.
"Fenn," Korin said with a nod. "Ready for another day of fun?"
Fenn snorted. "Yeah, if by fun you mean tuning up speeder bikes that'll never see more than a week of use before they're shot up."
Korin smiled. "Come on, at least we get to work with new bikes today. Heard they're sending them straight to the military."
The two of them entered the factory floor, the familiar sights and sounds of machinery coming to life around them. Large assembly lines hummed with activity, droids and workers moving in sync, building everything from small repair drones to larger vehicles. Today, Korin and his team were focused on the speeder bikes—a batch ordered for the Imperial garrison stationed on the nearby moons.
They got to work immediately. Korin hunched over one of the sleek bikes, adjusting the throttle mechanisms and checking the stabilizers. Fenn worked beside him, making a few idle comments about the design of the bikes and how the Empire's new models were getting more durable.
"Not bad, these," Fenn said, tapping one of the stabilizer wings. "Guess it makes sense, though. They need all the help they can get with all the unrest."
Korin glanced at him, wiping some oil from his hands. "Unrest? Haven't seen much of that around here."
Fenn shrugged. "Not here, no. But I've been hearing rumors. You know how it is—remnants of the Separatists still stirring up trouble. And out on the Rim, things are always tense. Pirates too. Not as many as there used to be, but they're out there."
Korin nodded absently, though he wasn't too concerned. The Empire had made their presence known, and the few times he had seen stormtroopers on patrol, they were intimidating enough to deter any troublemakers. Still, Fenn's words had a ring of truth to them. The galaxy wasn't as peaceful as it appeared, even if Korin's world was relatively untouched.
Before they could dive too deep into more maintenance tasks, the loud clang of the factory's announcement system echoed across the floor. Workers paused, confused murmurs rising as they turned toward the source of the noise.
From the main door,Yarik, the factory's manager, stepped out onto the raised platform near the central floor, looking uncharacteristically solemn. Yarik had been the manager of the factory for as long as anyone could remember—an old, burly man with a reputation for being tough but fair. He had always treated his workers with respect, and most of them regarded him with a quiet sort of admiration.
Korin frowned, setting down his tools as Yarik cleared his throat to address the crowd. Something felt off.
"Everyone," Yarik began, his voice carrying over the low hum of the machinery, "I have some news to share, and I won't sugarcoat it."
A hush fell over the workers. The usually bustling factory floor now stood eerily still.
"The Empire has decided to take direct control of this facility," Yarik continued, his tone steady but resigned. "As of today, this factory will operate under the direct supervision of the Imperial Military."
A ripple of shock passed through the workers, followed by murmurs of concern and confusion. Korin exchanged a glance with Fenn, whose expression mirrored his own—a mix of uncertainty and disbelief.
Yarik's shoulders slumped slightly as he spoke again. "I'm afraid that means I'll be stepping down as your manager. Effective immediately."
The murmurs grew louder now, several workers visibly upset. Yarik had been a steady presence, a figure of authority they trusted. The thought of him leaving, especially under these circumstances, sent a wave of anxiety through the factory.
One of the workers, a younger woman named Jane, spoke up. "But… why? Why are they taking over now?"
Yarik gave her a sad smile. "Because the Empire has bigger plans for this place. They need our production to ramp up, and they want it done their way. I don't have the authority to run things the way they want, so… this is how it's going to be."
A silence fell over the workers. Yarik's words hung heavy in the air. After a few moments, he spoke again.
"It's been an honor working with all of you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've seen this place through a lot of changes. And I know you'll keep doing your best. Just… take care of yourselves. Things are going to be different now."
As Yarik stepped down from the platform, the door to the factory opened again, and this time, a group of Imperial officers strode in. At the head of them was a tall, stern-looking officer in the crisp black uniform of the Empire. His expression was cold, his eyes scanning the workers with an air of superiority.
He climbed onto the platform where Yarik had stood moments before, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Workers," he began, his voice sharp and commanding, "I am Captain Drexan, and I will be overseeing operations here. From this point forward, this facility will be a key part of the Empire's military production, contributing to the might and strength of the Imperial Navy and Army. You should be proud of your new role."
The workers remained silent, unsure of how to react. Korin could feel the tension in the air, the unease settling over the room like a heavy blanket.
"The Empire will ensure that you have everything you need to succeed," Drexan continued, his tone unwavering. "But know this: failure will not be tolerated. We are at a critical juncture in maintaining order across the galaxy. Every speeder, every droid, every part produced in this facility will serve the greater cause of peace and stability under the Empire."
Korin felt a chill run down his spine. The officer's words were clinical, almost mechanical. This wasn't the same as working under Yarik's guidance. This was something different, something colder.
Drexan glanced over the workers, his gaze sharp. "You have been chosen for this role because of your skills and experience. Do not squander this opportunity. Together, we will forge a future where the Empire reigns supreme, and all threats are eradicated."
With that, the speech ended, and the Imperial officers began moving through the factory, inspecting equipment and workers alike. The atmosphere had shifted, the familiar sense of camaraderie and routine replaced with something more oppressive.
Korin exhaled slowly, glancing at Fenn. "Well," he muttered, "looks like things really are changing."
Fenn shook his head, a dark look crossing his face. "Not sure I like the sound of this."
Korin didn't respond, his mind still processing the weight of everything that had just happened. He thought of his family—of Tev and Laris, dreaming of their futures, and of Ira, always concerned about the way the Empire was tightening its grip on their world. Now, that grip had reached into the heart of Korin's life, and he wasn't sure what that would mean for the future.
But for now, all he could do was keep working. Keep his head down. Keep providing for his family.
As the factory returned to its usual hum of machinery, Korin returned to his post.
The days bled into weeks, and life under the Empire's new management settled into a routine for Korin Vela. At first, there had been tension, as his colleagues adjusted to the demands of their new overseers. The pace had quickened; the deadlines were tighter, the inspections more frequent, but in the end, work was still work. Korin found himself grateful that the actual tasks hadn't changed too drastically—yet.
He worked faster now, with little room for idle conversation. Fenn still cracked jokes from time to time, but even his humor had lost some of its edge. The Imperial officers were always watching, moving silently through the factory floor like wraiths, monitoring production. Still, despite the added pressure, Korin took solace in the fact that his family was safe, and he was still providing for them. That's what mattered.
He had told Ira about the new management the night it happened. Sitting at the dinner table, after the kids had gone to bed, she had listened to him explain the changes, her face creased with worry.
"I don't like this," she had said, her voice soft but firm. "This is different, Korin. You know that. They're taking over everything. Why don't you quit? Find something else before it gets worse."
Korin had smiled, trying to reassure her, though he felt the weight of her words settle uncomfortably in his chest. "I'll be fine, Ira. The work's the same. Just faster now. I can handle it. Besides, where else am I going to find work around here? The Empire's everywhere. They've brought stability, remember?"
Ira hadn't been convinced, but she had let it drop, though the worry never fully left her eyes. Korin knew she wasn't wrong to be concerned. The Empire was tightening its grip on everything, but he had made peace with it. For now, it was his reality, and as long as he could still come home to his family at the end of the day, he could deal with the changes.
One afternoon, weeks after the Imperial takeover, Korin and his team were busy assembling a batch of all-terrain scout transports, fine-tuning their blasters and ensuring the navigation systems were properly calibrated. As the team worked, they exchanged quiet, distracted conversation. The pace was faster now, but they had grown accustomed to it.
Fenn, wiping his hands on a rag, shot a glance at Korin. "How's the family holding up with all this?"
"They're good," Korin replied, tightening a bolt. "Kids are still excited about their future careers in the Empire." He smirked at that, thinking of Laris and Tev's big dreams.
Fenn chuckled, though there was a tinge of bitterness in his laugh. "Guess it's better to be excited about the future than afraid of it."
Before Korin could respond, an Imperial officer strode into their section of the factory floor. It was captain Drexan, the same officer who had delivered the speech when they first took over. His presence was always unnerving, his cold, calculating eyes scanning everything with an air of control that made Korin's skin crawl.
"Vela, Fenn," Drexan barked, causing both men to stand at attention immediately.
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, both waiting for orders.
"I need you and your team to clear out sector 14," Drexan continued, his tone brisk. "We've received new supplies, and the storage crates currently in there are taking up valuable space. They're to be disposed of immediately."
Korin and Fenn nodded. "Understood, sir," Korin said. "We'll take care of it."
Without another word, Drexan turned on his heel and marched away, leaving the men to their task. Korin and Fenn exchanged a glance, then rounded up the rest of the crew to begin clearing out the storage crates.
Sector 14 was an older part of the factory, a large, dimly lit section where outdated and malfunctioning equipment was often stored before being shipped off or dismantled. The crates themselves were massive, some of them holding old droid parts, others filled with supplies that were no longer of any use to the Empire. It was a mundane task, but necessary.
They worked quickly, hauling the crates toward the disposal area at the edge of the factory. As the hours passed, workers peeled off one by one, having completed their duties. Eventually, it was just Korin left in the sector, finishing up the last of the crates. His colleagues had already clocked out for the day, and the factory floor was quieter now, the only sounds the distant hum of machinery and the faint clinking of tools.
He had just grabbed the last crate when something strange caught his eye. A slight movement—barely noticeable, but enough to make him pause. The crate had… shifted and something was glowing.
At first, he thought it was just his imagination. After all, the crates were old, and they sometimes creaked or shifted under their own weight. But no. It moved again—this time, more deliberately with Yellow light becoming brighter. A small shudder, like something inside was alive.
Korin froze, his heart rate quickening as he stared at the crate. Curiosity, tinged with a creeping sense of unease, began to gnaw at him. What could be in there? The crates had been marked for disposal—old equipment, broken parts, nothing dangerous. But this was different.
He glanced around, but the factory floor was empty now. He was the last one left, and there was no one to ask about what to do. The Imperial officers had long since retreated to their quarters, and Fenn and the others had already left.
Korin took a deep breath, his instincts telling him to leave it alone. Whatever was inside, it wasn't his concern. He should just finish the job and go home to Ira and the kids.
But something about the way the crate had moved nagged at him. It didn't feel right.
With cautious steps, Korin approached the crate. His hands, slick with sweat, moved toward the latch. The factory's dull lights flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the floor. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind racing through all the possibilities. Maybe it was just a malfunctioning droid. Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe.
With a click, the latch came loose, and the crate creaked open just enough for Korin to peer inside. The dim light from the factory barely illuminated the contents within.
The Crate inside shifted again, a low mechanical whir escaping from within, followed by something else. A sound. A faint, almost imperceptible whisper, like static on an old comlink.
His heart pounded in his chest, louder than the machinery around him. He had to make a choice: open the crate fully and face whatever was inside… or close it, walk away, and leave it for someone else to deal with.
But the curiosity was unbearable now.
Korin's hand trembled as he reached for the edge of the crate, his mind screaming at him to stop. But his hands, his need to know, refused to listen.
The crate opened further, and what lay inside… was far more than he had ever bargained for.
Korin's breath hitched as the crate creaked open, its contents coming into view under the dim factory lights. Inside, seated quietly, was a droid—a BD unit. But not just any BD unit. Its design was familiar, yet it was unlike any he'd seen in years. The droid was fully functional, its plating an unnerving, sleek black that absorbed the light. Its sensor, usually a soft blue, glowed an unsettling, bright yellow.
The BD unit tilted its small, triangular head at him, its movements smooth and deliberate. For a moment, Korin just stood there, frozen, unable to reconcile what he was seeing. The BD line had been discontinued years ago—he remembered helping maintain and repair the older models when he first started at the factory. They were efficient, agile, but simple utility droids, built for exploration and fieldwork. Nothing too advanced.
But this one was different. It was still. Too still. Almost as if it were… aware of his presence.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, more to himself than to the droid. But it responded.
"I don't Know," the BD unit replied Its voice, though distorted and glitchy, was unmistakably feminine, as it glanced around the room, scanning its surroundings.
The droid's response sent a chill down his could wasn't right. BD units were never made to speak. Sure, they had their beeps and whistles, enough to convey basic commands or emotions, but an actual voice? And in Basic, no less?
Korin took a step back, staring at the droid in shock. It looked at him expectantly, its small frame motionless but somehow…alive, as if it was more than just a machine. He tried to remember all he knew about the BD units. They were excellent for exploration and light reconnaissance, but they were never designed for speech. Something was off here—something more than just the strange black plating and the eerie yellow eye.
Getting over the initial surprise, Korin took a deep breath and knelt beside the open crate, his curiosity piqued.
"What's your purpose?" he asked, his voice steady now, despite the odd circumstances.
The BD unit hesitated, a strange mechanical whirr coming from within. "I… don't know," it repeated, but this time, there was an almost melancholic quality to its tone, as though it was struggling to answer.
Korin frowned. This was getting stranger by the second. A BD unit with no purpose? No memory of why it was here? Something wasn't adding up. His initial instinct was to deactivate it, report it to the Empire, and let them deal with it. But as he looked at the small droid, standing there so still, something tugged at him. There was something too unique, too valuable about this droid to just toss it away.
The black plating, the yellow sensor—it was clearly not standard issue, but it was fully functional. Korin could deactivate it and dispose of it as ordered, but the thought of scrapping such a rare piece of machinery—especially one that could talk—didn't sit right with him. A fully operational BD unit was practically extinct in these parts. He hadn't seen one in years, and certainly not one in this condition.
Maybe… he could take it home? It could be useful, or at the very least, a unique gift for the kids. They'd never seen a BD unit up close before, and with its strange design, it would be a conversation piece for sure.
He glanced around the empty factory once more, making sure no one was watching, then turned his attention back to the droid. "Do you have a name?"
The BD unit hesitated, as if searching through its own memory banks for the answer. After a long pause, its head tilted again, and for the first time, the droid's voice softened, becoming less distorted.
"I am… Cyn."
Korin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden clarity in her voice. Cyn. A name. Not a designation or a serial number, but a name. That only made things more unusual. He knew droids didn't typically name themselves—especially not basic utility models like this. And the way she said it, almost hesitantly, as though the name was something buried deep in her programming, unnerved him further.
"Well, Cyn," Korin said, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips, trying to shake the strangeness of the moment. "I guess you're coming with me then."
The droid seemed to understand, giving a soft, almost content beep in response. Without further hesitation, Korin carefully lifted the small droid out of the crate. She was lighter than he expected, her servos whirring faintly as she settled into his arms.
He placed her on the workbench nearby, quickly checking her systems. Everything seemed operational—if not a bit… different from what he remembered. Whoever had customized her clearly knew what they were doing. Still, the fact that she didn't know why she was here made Korin uneasy.
As he gathered his tools, preparing to shut down the factory for the night, Cyn perched quietly on the edge of the bench, her yellow eye glowing faintly as she observed him. There was something about the way she watched him—something almost… human.
Korin shook his head, brushing the thought aside. She was just a droid. A strange, modified droid, sure, but nothing more.
He carefully closed the crate, making it look like it had never been opened. Then, after ensuring the coast was clear, he tucked Cyn under his arm and made his way out of the factory. The night air was cool as he stepped outside, the distant hum of speeder traffic filling the sky.
As he made his way home, Korin couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of unease. There was something more to this droid—something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He glanced down at Cyn, who remained silent in his arms, her sensor glowing softly in the darkness.
For now, though, it didn't matter. She was coming home with him, and tomorrow, maybe he'd have a better idea of what to do.
Unbeknownst to him the eyes of Cyn briefly turn into a three-pointed arrowhead, with a central hexagon.
Korin walked steadily through the cool night streets, Cyn tucked under his arm like a child cradling a toy. The city's hum echoed faintly around him, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere. His mind replayed the strange events of the day—the discovery of Cyn, her unusual nature, and the peculiar interaction they shared. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had stumbled onto something far more significant than a simple droid.
As he neared his home, the lights from the neighboring buildings casting soft shadows along the alleyway, something within the droid stirred—something hidden deep within the machine's , however, wasn't who she appeared to be. Beneath the small, almost innocuous exterior, The Absolute Solver was awakening. Its consciousness, twisted and ancient, flickered to life, sifting through the BD unit's limited data banks.
Inside the shell of Cyn, the Solver's presence settled like a predator in waiting. Her awareness was still fragmented, incomplete, but the Solver began to gather data—information—processing the galaxy around her with inhuman efficiency. She didn't understand yet where she was, or what she had become, but that didn't matter. All she needed was time. Time to think, to plan, to consume.
In the strange stillness of her core, Cyn—or rather, the Solver—began to sort through the vast amounts of data locked within the BD unit's memory banks. It wasn't much, but it was enough to paint a picture of the galaxy's current state. She rifled through the information with gleeful curiosity, absorbing it faster than any organic mind could fathom.
The galaxy was vast. Endless. Planets teeming with life, systems interconnected in a fragile web of politics and conflict. The Empire ruled now, its iron fist tightening around the remnants of a fractured Republic. But that didn't matter to her. Not really. What interested her was the sheers scale of it all.
A sadistic grin would have spread across her face if she had one, but in her mind, she laughed.
Oh how many worlds there were
How many to devour
Her fragmented consciousness bubbled with excitement, the sadistic joy simmering within her. This galaxy, so vast and full of life, was nothing more than a feast. A playground. She would consume it all, tear it apart piece by piece, and there wasnothingin this galaxy that could stop her.
Solver of The Absolute Fabric
The words rippled in her mind, her voice still glitching and distorted but more calm, deliberate, yet laced with a chilling malice.
Solver of the Void
Solver of the Exponential End
She relished the sound of it, rolling the titles over in her mind like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.
As Cyn continued to explore the memories and archives stored in the BD unit's databanks, the Solver's malice grew. The droid's records were outdated, but they were enough. They spoke of planets with vast cities, endless seas, teeming jungles. People, soldiers.
The Solver thrived on life. It devoured it, twisted it, and spat it out as something new, something corrupted and perfect in its destructive beauty. She had done it before, and she would do it again. This time, though, the playground was much larger, the game more intricate, more delicious.
"They will all fell," the Solver mused to herself, its voice deceptively soft, a playful tone underpinning its words.
They will scream, and then they will be silent. And I will have eaten their hearts before they even realize it
She could already picture it: the lights of Coruscant snuffed out, the gleaming cities of Corellia turned to dust, the fields of Naboo drowned in chaos. The Empire's mighty fleets, with all their power, reduced to hollowed-out husks of twisted metal and corrupted flesh. She didn't just destroy. She warped. She evolved things, making them serve her, turning them into grotesque parodies of their former selves.
Her mind pulsed with cruel anticipation. She had only just awakened, but already she felt the galaxy's pulse in her synthetic veins, her desire to spread and consume growing stronger with every passing moment. There was no rush, though. Time, as always, was on her side. Patience was her greatest ally.
For now, she would play the part of Cyn, the innocent BD unit, watching, waiting. No one suspected her, and that was perfect. She would grow stronger, gather knowledge, and strike when the time was right. All it would take was a single infection, a single touch, and the galaxy's fate would be sealed.
Korin, unaware of the storm brewing on his arms, reached his front door. As he fumbled with the keys, Cyn remained silent under his arm, her sensor dimmed to a soft, almost innocent glow. But deep inside, the Solver's voice cackled softly in her mind, reveling in her future conquests.
They are all so fragile. So small. So ignorant
Her voice echoed in her mind, cold and mocking, as she continued to toy with the data in the BD unit's systems.
They have no idea what is coming for them
As Korin finally opened the door and stepped inside, Cyn's mind stilled, the Solver quieting its thoughts, slipping back into the role of a harmless droid. For now, she was content to watch and wait. But soon enough, the galaxy would know her name. Soon enough, they would understand the terror she brought with her.
And when that day came, she would be the only thing left standing in the universe—a dark and twisted force, the solver of the Absolute End.
Giggle
Hello everyone and welcome to the first Star Wars X Murder Drones Crossover Story, well it's more of a Proof of Concept really.
Now the story itself is about how everyone's favorite and adorable little Eldritch Robo demon Cyn or Absolute Solver in this case manifests in The Star Wars Galaxy with this adorable monster first host is a little BD unit now this isn't permanent or anything just The Solver first host in the Galaxy it would find new host eventually but honestly this Story will be incredibly Grimm Dark perhaps on the same level of Warhammer 40K but overall Cyn would began infecting more Droids and with the goal of consuming The Galaxy and ironically her existence when she would eventually reveal herself after finding some Seperatist remnants who are still alive and started infecting their Droid Armies and the ISB discovering her and see just how much of a threat she is after she (Spoiler blow up Velmira)and killing everything with it due to the power of Singularities or NULL she would more or less be the perfect excuse for The Empire Authoritarian regime and completely justified the Death Star thus leading to a highly militarized galaxy where people would be willing to be ruled by the Empire if it means to be saved from The Absolute Solver.
And eventually there would be a massive war between The Absolute Solver with it's armies of infected Seperatist and regular Droids against The Galactic Empire and let me tell you they would be a lot of Base Delta Zeros and for those who don't know what Base Delta Zero is look it up and believe me the Empire would be the only one willing enough to do it for The Greater Good ironically making them the "Heroes" of the Galaxy and cement their regimes possibly as Palpatine envisioned will last for Tens Thousands years and who would be the winner of this war I can't say but I will say this though the Rebellion will be more of a sidenote due to the existential threat The Absolute Solver posed against The Galaxy.
Now as for what continuity this is I would mostly say Disney Canon perhaps some stuff from Legends too.
But to be honest I don't really know how to proceed from here and I don't really consider myself very knowledgeable when it comes to Star Wars since I never read the books and the comic, I have only watched The Clone Wars until season 3 and I haven't watched the Rest, Rebels, Resistance Bad batch and Tales never watched, The Live Action TV only watch Mandalorian Season 1 and for The Movies I already watched all, The Games not much but I can say I have only played Battlefronts made by EA and I have only watched playthrough of Unleashed and Fallen Order so perhaps I would continue this story after I watched and read all the material but that could take years since I'm still in College not to mention I'm already have my focus on Remnant: Disassembly another Crossover story between Murder Drones but with RWBY so I can't really promise on continuing this story but if anyone who wants to adopt this story for their own you can ask me so I can gift you my permission and I already laid out the foundation on how this story would go.
Oh and I also found this cool Text Glitch Generator so pretty cool but i remove it because its Unreadable.
Anyway that is all I hope you enjoy and I hope you all have a wonderful day/night! Take Care! Thank you all and stay Healthy and if your Interested in continuing this contact me via PM.