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Chapter 68: What Remains in the Dark
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 15:38:30 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: Star Wars and all of it's Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it's original characters are however mine.
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Mira's P.O.V. :
My commlink beeped, and I flicked it on.
“Nick-02, reporting. Skew-02 and I have received new orders—rendezvous with your position, then proceed to investigate the suspected source of the hyperspace anomaly. We will scout along the way.”
I acknowledged the update and turned to Rina. "They're on their way. Shouldn't take long."
She barely looked up from the terminal, still focused on slicing through the station’s security logs. “Good. Gives me time to make copies of this last security holovid.”
I nodded and shifted my attention back to the screens, watching the grainy recordings loop over and over.
A few minutes passed before I heard it—the distinct clang of durasteel feet against the deckplates, still a ways down the corridor but approaching fast. I shot Rina a glance, and she tilted her head, hearing it too. Nick-02 and Skew-02.
While we waited, Rina kept working, backchecking the other security recordings. Most of them were standard—if standard meant a bunch of researchers designing new variants of those Force Null Sentinel droids or tinkering with supposed “next-gen” weapons for the war between the Republic and the Sith Empire.
I scoffed. “Weird stuff.”
“Understatement,” Rina muttered, flicking to another recording.
One of the grainy holovids showed two scientists arguing, hands waving, datapads in hand. I leaned in, trying to pick up the conversation through the ancient audio.
“—the trajectory calculations don’t add up! You’re telling me the shot will curve?”
“That’s the whole point! The targeting system locks onto a moving target and adjusts mid-flight—”
“You mean it bends mid-flight! That’s not how blaster bolts work!”
Rina snorted. “That’s what you’re arguing about? A curving blaster shot?”
I shrugged. “To be fair, if it worked, that’d be something.”
She switched to another recording, and this time, we both stared.
The screen showed another research team, this one huddled around a schematic for a targeting module.
A scientist tapped on the screen. “The module focuses entirely on the knees.”
Someone offscreen scoffed. “Why knees?”
The lead scientist gestured with both hands. “Because if you remove an enemy’s mobility, they’re neutralized. Think about it! We mass-deploy this targeting system, and suddenly, Sith Lords and troopers alike are all collapsing from precision shots to the legs!”
A long silence followed.
Then, Rina muttered, “What about targets that don’t have knees?”
I tried really hard not to laugh. "Guess they'd have to workshop that one."
Before we could get into another discussion about bad weapon concepts, my comlink chimed again.
“Nick-02, reporting arrival.”
Almost immediately, I heard an audible—"Unit Nick-02, reporting"—echo down the hall, Skew-02’s heavier footsteps clanking beside it.
Rina finished making the last of the copies, shutting down the console as we both turned to meet them.
The two droids stood at attention as we approached, their armored chassis glinting under the dim lights. Nick-02, always the more talkative of the two, wasted no time.
“Orders confirmed. Next objective: rendezvous with Creator Jake and proceed to suspected anomaly site.”
I nodded, adjusting my blaster’s sling over my shoulder. “Then let’s not waste time.”
With that, we set off down the corridor, marching toward whatever kriffing mess awaited us next.
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After double-checking that we’d copied the recordings, Rina and I agreed to physically explore the Research and Development complex. Having Skew-02 and Nick-02 with us added an extra layer of security—a solid shield between us and whatever surprises this kriffing place still had left.
We had the droids move ahead and behind us, confirming that priority command had been transferred to them, even if temporarily. With their combat protocols engaged, we felt somewhat safer, but we still moved carefully, taking note of everything and comparing it to what we saw in the recordings.
First were the research offices assigned to weapons development. I smirked as we passed one of them. Looks like they were unsuccessful with that knee-targeting mod. I’d almost feel bad for them if it weren’t such a ridiculous idea to begin with.
Next, we moved through the areas where the alternate Force Null Sentinel droid designs were being worked on, possibly tested. Seeing the half-finished schematics and broken prototype parts scattered around only reinforced one thing—the war had been pushing these researchers into desperation.
But the real objective was ahead. The larger research and development office—the one that had been handling the wrecked Force Null Sentinel Droid.
I signaled Nick-02 to do a security sweep with its overpowered scanners.
“No hostiles detected,” Nick-02 reported. “Status of the chamber ahead matches the previous rooms.”
Rina let out a breath and shot me a look. “You’re being way too cautious.”
I crossed my arms. “It’s a giant kriffing Sith-killer droid. I don’t care if it’s in a thousand pieces, I’m not taking any chances.”
She paused—then shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Before we could proceed inside, something caught our attention.
A dead body.
The remains wore the same attire as the head researcher from the recordings.
Rina and I exchanged a glance before stepping toward it, keeping our hands near our weapons just in case. We were already wearing our helmets—thank the stars, because I didn’t need another reminder of how bad decomposed flesh smelled in enclosed spaces.
As we checked the body, Rina carefully pried a personal recorder from the corpse’s belt.
“Still intact?” I asked.
She inspected it, pressing a few buttons before sighing. “Power source connection’s busted. Nothing major.”
A quick glance at each other, then we got to work.
Jake had insisted that we learn basic maintenance for all the gear he handed out—his way of keeping us from swamping him with extra work. I might’ve rolled my eyes at the time, but I had to admit, it was paying off. A few quick fixes, a minor wire adjustment, and…
The recorder flickered to life.
One entry.
Dated later than the one we’d seen in the data terminal.
Rina adjusted the playback. “Let’s hear what this guy had to say.”
We hit play.
A distorted voice crackled through the speaker—weak, but clear enough to make my stomach tighten.
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The personal recorder crackled to life, the voice on the other end strained—tired, maybe even afraid—but still holding onto some sense of control.
"This is Velen Ral… Lead Researcher of the R&D division. If you're hearing this, then—" he hesitated before continuing, "—then I don’t know. Maybe you already figured out what went wrong."
I exchanged a glance with Rina, who adjusted the playback slightly, making sure we caught every word.
"The Force Null Sentinels—our so-called Sith Hunters—" he exhaled sharply, "—they keep going rogue. No signs of corruption in their coding. We triple-checked. Cross-referenced them with every combat droid in the Republic’s employ. Nothing. So why—why does it keep happening?"
His words carried the weight of failure, of lives lost because of something he and his team couldn’t figure out in time.
"One of our Hunters went rogue in the field. Cost us a Jedi Knight and an entire squad of troopers before they managed to bring it down. That wreck was recovered and sent here. We were tasked with fixing it. With finding out what went wrong. Thought we could make them work again."
I stiffened. The wrecked Sentinel droid. The droid.
"We opened it up. Everything looked standard—except the Kyber crystal. It wasn’t the same. Not in color, not in resonance. And we kept dismissing it at first, but... something felt off. At first, we chalked it up to stress. Long hours. But I started noticing it. Flares of aggression. People snapping over nothing. Fights breaking out in the halls."
Rina frowned, arms crossed. “This is sounding less like faulty programming and more like something unnatural.”
"I have a hypothesis," Ral continued. "Prolonged exposure to that Kyber crystal is doing something to us. Something wrong."
A pause. A breath.
"It’s corrupted. That’s my only conclusion. Somehow, even as they were being cut down, the Sith were twisting the Hunters into rampaging. And I think... I think I know how."
I shifted uncomfortably, already not liking where this was going.
"Every time a Sith Hunter kills a Sith, the crystal at its core changes. It turns red."
I barely resisted cursing out loud.
"I don’t know how or why, but it happens. Maybe it’s some twisted connection to the Force, maybe it’s something worse. And now, everyone in this station is turning on each other. A murder was reported this cycle. Security had to enact riot control protocols."
My gut twisted.
"I submitted a request to dispose of the broken Hunter. The others won’t listen to me. They refuse to believe that the droid—this droid—is the source of our problems."
A few seconds of silence followed.
Then his voice returned, lower, edged with tension.
"The Station Head agreed. The Sentinels are discreetly moving the wreck to disposal. I thought that would be the end of it."
A sharp breath.
"The staff went ballistic. That’s the best way I can describe it. Everyone—everyone—went mad."
Something scraped against the recorder’s mic. A shift of movement. His voice grew hurried.
"I’m in the R&D complex, transferring my records to the local public terminal. If something happens to me, then at least—"
A sound in the background.
Footsteps. Getting closer.
A voice, muffled.
Then Ral’s voice again, tight with urgency. “Put the blaster down. We can talk this out like civilized people.”
The recording cut off—
A single blaster shot.
And then silence.
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Mira remained still, staring at the now-deactivated recorder in her hand.
“Stars,” Rina muttered. “That was… grim.”
Mira exhaled slowly, her grip tightening around the device.
No wonder they found him dead.
They weren’t just dealing with rogue droids.
They were dealing with whatever the Sith had done to them.
And it might not be over.
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The sharp bweep of my commlink made both Rina and me jump. I barely caught myself, but Rina? She jolted so bad she nearly fumbled her datapad.
“That never happened,” she said quickly, straightening up like nothing was wrong. “And Jake never finds out.”
I smirked but didn’t argue.
We had no reason to linger here anymore, so we pressed on, Nick-02 and Skew-02 taking point. The route to the suspected cause of the hyperspace anomalies was mostly clear—until we passed another important-looking durasteel door.
Rina slowed her pace. “Okay, that looks interesting.”
“It’s not on the mission list,” I countered.
“Yeah, but it’s right here.” She folded her arms, her voice taking on that I’m-gonna-keep-talking-until-you-agree tone. “Wouldn’t it bug you not to know?”
I exhaled sharply. “Fine. Quick look.”
A closer inspection revealed a worn sign above the access panel: Disposal Chamber.
Huh. That wasn’t far from R&D. No wonder Velen Ral’s little ‘discreet disposal’ plan had been possible.
We found a viewport and opted for a peek inside. I let Rina go first, meanwhile, I finally checked the waiting message on my commlink.
Jake’s team found the control station for the kriffing stupidly named machine.
I didn’t even have time to roll my eyes before Rina sprinted back to me, skidding to a stop.
“It’s still there!” she hissed.
“What?”
“The wrecked giant droid—it was never disposed of! It's just lying there in the chamber!”
Then, as if the galaxy wanted to prove how much it hated me today, the chamber doors started opening.
Dank farrik.
I snapped to action, tapping my comm and calling the quickest responder I knew, when the call got accepted Rina was quick to say—“Davik, stop whatever you’re doing right now!”
A deep, metallic groan filled the chamber. I turned in time to see Skew-02 throwing its weight against the doors, servos straining as it fought to keep them from opening fully.
I flicked my gaze to Rina. “That was you?”
“Of course it was,” she shot back, already tapping through her wrist console. “Nick-02’s looking for the disposal controls now—”
The Nick droid returned a second later, red optics flashing. “Failure. Disposal protocol inactive.”
Skew-02 let out a low mechanical whine as its servos lost ground, the doors inching wider. We were running out of time.
I clenched my fists. We needed to regroup. Fast.
“We find the others first,” I decided. “Then we figure out how to activate the chamber—or destroy the corrupted Kyber crystal before we end up like the station crew.”
Or worse, the dreadful feeling we felt on Malachor V as if to kill us from the fear induced alone.
Rina nodded, already moving. “Agreed.”
We turned and ran.
