Chapter 81: Rise of the Unseen Hand

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all of it's Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it's original characters are however mine.

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Jake's P.O.V. :

It’s been roughly two weeks since we kicked off our plan to disrupt and be a proper thorn in the sides of two of the Outer Rim’s biggest slugs—Gardulla and Jabba. The whole operation is running smoothly, just as we planned. Every time we strike at Gardulla’s holdings, Jabba’s own enforcers are nipping at her heels, trying to finish the job. And just as Jabba’s forces think they’ve gotten the upper hand, we hit them twice as hard.

The beauty of this setup is that by the time Jabba finally manages to oust Gardulla and claim her entire empire, he’ll be too busy licking his wounds to stop us from making our next move. He’ll be bleeding credits, manpower, and influence. And by the time he realizes what’s happening, we’ll have everything we need to put him in the grave alongside the rest of the filth he surrounds himself with.

The plan regarding the ships went over even better than I expected. After I laid it out, Kado immediately started polishing it, and once he got involved, it became a full-blown strategy meeting. Everyone chimed in, refining every detail until the plan was airtight. That meeting lasted two whole days—two days robbed from my valuable tinkering time—but I’ll admit, it was worth it. The adjustments Kado and the others made ensured maximum efficiency while minimizing risks.

Now, Kado and Davik, along with all four of the N5 Security Droids, have been dropped off back on Ryloth by Tarek. Their mission is to meet with a buyer for some of the ships we’ve repaired—not the corvettes that we repaired first, but three heavy freighters that we salvaged afterwards and upgraded to modern specs. The credits we’ll get from this sale will be enough to buy the CR90s we’ve been eyeing—both the standard and carrier variants. Even if they’re not fresh off the assembly line, that’s no problem. With the station’s manufacturing capabilities, we can bring them up to spec in no time.

Mira and Rina were supposed to accompany them, but our other project which is pulling more anti-slavery groups and pirate hunter crews into our fold—can’t be put on hold. These groups are already benefiting from my tech in limited capacity, wielding modified blasters and portable energy shields I designed but is of the earlier versions. It’s a slow process, but every piece of equipment we provide makes them more dependent on us. Once they realize just how much of an edge my tech gives them, they’ll have little reason to turn away from an alliance.

Meanwhile, I’ve been staying busy alongside Arlos and Shmi, working to finalize a major addition to our forces—the Sentinel Security Droids. One hundred fully operational combat droids, each outfitted with the best programming and gear I could fit into them. And, of course, we can’t forget Anakin. The kid may not be directly helping with the updates and upgrades, but his constant questions keep us on our toes and quite alert.

“Why does the droid have three redundant power cells?”

“What happens if one gets hit by an ion blast?”

“Could you make it fly?”

Each question turns into a mini-lecture, and honestly It’s good for him, let alone me since this helps in cementing the basics of droid technology in my head. He’s got the kind of mind that sees things differently, and while some of his ideas are a little out there, they make me think. Even when we’re elbow-deep in droid components, explaining things to him keeps us sharp. Plus, it’s nice to see him so invested. Most kids his age are playing with toy speeders, and here he is, talking about modular armor plating and redundant power sources, although not quite in proper sentences.

As we wrap up another batch of Sentinels, I step back to take a breath, looking out over our growing army. It’s all coming together. The Hutts are bleeding, these slaver syndicates are scrambling to find out how they are bleeding, and at the same time our allies are growing in tactics and strength. And soon enough, we'll deal with Gardulla and Jabba permanently.

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Kado's P.O.V. :

I drained the last of my drink and leaned back in my seat, casting a glance out the viewport. The capital city of Ryloth, Lessu sprawled beneath the twilight sky, a mix of ancient stonework and newer prefab structures that gave the place a lived-in, rugged charm. The flickering glow of streetlights danced across the transparisteel as I considered the deal ahead. Davik and I were here for business, and if everything went smoothly, we’d be walking away with heavier pockets and a clear path toward acquiring the corvettes.

We hadn’t brought the freighters into the system yet. No sense in risking possible troubles in our hand before the credits were on the table. They were sitting just one hyperjump away anyway, crewed by worker droids that the station’s manufacturing systems had restored to working order. But not all the droids salvaged from the wreckage could be repaired, for those that weren’t salvageable to be repaired had been broken down into raw materials—nothing went to waste. That was the beauty of having a proper facility at our disposal.

Behind me, Davik’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the establishment. “So, where exactly are you planning to pick up the CR90s? Because if you’re thinking about going straight for factory-fresh, we’re only getting one—standard or carrier, not both.”

I didn’t even turn around. Instead, I answered with a single word: “Zarok.”

Davik let out a sharp exhale, the kind that told me he was holding back a string of choice words. “That’s about as safe as setting up camp on Kashyyyk without a perimeter alarm.”

Now I did turn, smirking at his discomfort. “If we were still on Tatooine, scraping by as salvagers, you wouldn’t have cared about dealing with his kind.”

Davik snorted, shaking his head. “Back then, we were halfway between honest merchants and outright outlaws.”

“Liberators and wannabe heroes too,” I added, purely to amuse myself.

That got a short bark of laughter out of him. Before he could add anything else, one of the N5 droids stationed near the entrance sent an alert to our comms. “The buyers are here.”

Davik and I stood, adjusting our jackets. No armor. No weapons strapped openly to our sides. We wanted to look like businessmen, not mercenaries. Intimidation had its place, but this wasn’t it. The potential buyers didn’t need to feel pressured; they needed to feel like they were making a smart, lucrative investment.

As the group of merchant looking individuals with some of them being Twi’leks approached, I put on my best negotiator’s face. “Gentlebeings, a pleasure to finally meet you. Now, let’s talk about these freighters.”

"Let’s skip the fluff and get right to it," I said, folding my hands on the table. "These freighters aren’t just you're everyday promised upgraded products—they’re optimized for your kind of business. Our mechanics team overhauled the core systems, reinforced the hull plating, and built in redundancies that cut down on long-term maintenance costs. Less downtime, more efficiency. And more efficiency means higher profitability for you."

I could see them leaning in, interest piqued. Hook, line, and sinker.

By the time we got to haggling, I could already tell we had them. Their body language screamed interest, and when the final price was settled—higher than what we initially planned—I knew we’d secured more than just a one-time deal. These buyers would come back, and judging by their reactions, they weren’t used to actually getting what they paid for. Makes you wonder just how many shady deals they’d been burned by before.

The transaction was completed swiftly. The moment traffic control gave the green light, the freighters made the jump to Ryloth, arriving precisely on schedule. For now, the worker droids would man them, providing security until the buyers’ own personnel could take over. Once the transition was complete, Tarek would swing by with the Stellar Envoy to retrieve our droids and bring them back to the station—really needed to name the damn place already, just so we’d stop calling it ‘the station.’

With credits secured and the freighters handed off, Davik and I wasted no time. We set out toward the next stop—a rendezvous point designated by Zarok for the acquisition of the CR90 corvettes. I had no illusions about what this meeting would be like. Deals with people like Zarok were never simple, never straightforward. But if it meant getting what we needed without gutting our funds, then it was a risk and make it worth taking.

Besides, if Zarok thought he's the only one who could pull something, he’d be in for a rude awakening.

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Some Shady Guy:

Zarok leaned back in his seat, lekku draping lazily over his shoulders as he swirled the drink in his hand, savoring the burn as he took another sip. The dimly lit cantina, tucked away in the capital’s underbelly, provided the perfect cover for his operations—a place where credits spoke louder than names and where the right deals could make or break a syndicate’s power plays. He had made a career out of being the middleman for such deals, but his next appointment had caught his curiosity like few others.

He’d dealt with plenty of crews who had a vendetta against slavers or a bone to pick with pirates. But usually, it was one or the other, and even the most dedicated groups had to play the long game—weeks, sometimes months of careful planning to cripple a single operation. Yet, recently, the tides had shifted. Word in the right circles spoke of a crew that didn’t just harass slavers or bleed pirate fleets dry; they annihilated them. One skirmish was all it took, and entire rings were left in ruins. That kind of efficiency didn’t happen overnight, and it definitely didn’t happen without firepower, credits, and serious backing.

He ran a clawed finger along the rim of his glass, deep in thought. The underworld was buzzing with whispers that certain anti-slavery groups and pirate hunters had started winning fights they had no business winning. Before, they’d been nuisances at best, a thorn in the side of the bigger players. Now, they were outright steamrolling them. And from what Zarok had pieced together, the ones he was about to meet were at the heart of it.

Them looking to buy a corvette screams that they have ambition—that there was a statement to their actions. They weren’t some ragtag idealists taking potshots at slavers and pirates for kicks. They were gearing up for something bigger, I can feel it and it's  something serious. And that means opportunity. If they had the means to expand, to which I suspect that they can and quite easily at that and if this turns out to be true then it was in his best interest to be the one holding the door open—to the right suppliers, the right contacts, and, most importantly, to him.

And then there were the droids. Just thinking about the combat models they had promised him made his mouth dry with anticipation. He had always known the droid market to be lucrative specially in the outer rim territories, but if these machines lived up to even half the rumors? The profits would be staggering. Not only would he gain access to the cutting-edge tech they were peddling, but this very transaction would allow him to pass along the specifications for his own personal battle droid.

He took another slow sip of his drink, letting the warmth settle in his chest as he heard footsteps approaching. It looks like his next appointment has arrived. It was time to see just how deep this alliance could go.