Chapter 80: Uniting the Hunters

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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Securing Harrin Jett’s cooperation, along with his crew of like-minded sentients who dedicate themselves to hunting slavers and freeing captives, was a solid step forward. For now, they’d agreed to work with us as allies, but the long-term goal was bringing them fully into the fold. Strength in numbers, after all.

Mira and Davik had similar success on their end, locking down cooperative alliances with other armed anti-slavery groups. A rather commonly unknown fact is that there there were plenty of smaller cells out there striking at slavers when they could, though some operated on a more restrained level, preferring to calling themselves ‘protesters’ rather than fighters. The unarmed ones had their own value, though—not in direct combat per se, but in spreading intel, keeping ears to the ground, and rallying public sentiment against the Hutts’ stranglehold.

Meanwhile, Rina and Kado focused on establishing connections with pirate hunters. Now, these weren’t just any run-of-the-hyperlane mercs. Most of them were either former planetary military, ex-private security, or people who had a personal vendetta against pirates—either because they’d been victims themselves or had lost someone to a raid. These were the kinds of people we needed when the time came to openly challenge the Hutts. The fact that we weren’t just slaver-hunters but pirate-killers as well made us an attractive ally.

The biggest surprise, though, came from Arlos, Shmi, and Tarek. It turns out, they had their own network of contacts—which I hadn’t accounted for. They managed to secure agreements with mostly informants, some of whom were willing to actively pass intel our way, while others preferred to stay in the shadows but could still be counted on for an occasional tip-off. Even if these contacts weren’t joining us as fighters, their information would be invaluable.

Now that the foundation of our plan was set, it was time to execute. While our newest allies focused on hitting slaver operations and small pirate outposts, we had our own work cut out for us. With Shmi and Arlos assisting and yes even Anakin is here but he's just being the mascot for now, I threw myself into updating and repairing the remaining Sentinel Security Droids, bringing them up to spec with my own custom modifications. If we were going to deploy them alongside our people, they needed to be just as durable and deadly as anything the Hutts could field against us.

The assembly lines in the station’s production sector were running full tilt under Kado, Rina, and Mira’s supervision, churning out weapons, explosives, and slicing gear. Some of these would be sent out to our new allies at designated drop points, while others were set aside for our own upcoming operations. Meanwhile, Davik took charge of retrieving the derelict corvettes drifting around the station. He had Tarek and the Nick droids assisting him, making sure the salvage operation ran smoothly. If we could get those corvettes spaceworthy, they’d be an invaluable asset—either as additions to our fleet or as trade to acquire more advanced ships.

While we kept ourselves busy on the station, our allies were already moving. We supplied them with detailed intelligence on slaver and pirate operations tied to Gardulla and Jabba, though we emphasized striking at Jabba’s holdings first. The reasoning was simple—if we took out Gardulla too soon, Jabba would still have the bulk of his resources to come down on us. But if we hit Jabba first, Gardulla would be left scrambling being attacked by Jabba's forces, giving us the opportunity to make our real move when the time was right.

Where did we get this intelligence, you ask? Well, that was thanks to Mira and Rina. Mira never stopped keeping tabs on the underworld through her network of scouts and contacts, while Rina—former information broker that she was—still had more than a few sources willing to trade secrets for the right price. Kado and Davik, having spent years navigating the outer rim’s shadier dealings, also had their own means of acquiring intel.

Individually, the strikes from our allies wouldn’t cripple the Hutts, but that was besides the point. Their goal was sustained damage—small, precise hits delivered in rapid succession, like vibroblade slashes that, over time, would weaken even the toughest opponent. Every base raided, every shipment stolen, every slaver taken down chipped away at their power. And when the time came to deal the final blow, the Hutts would already be bleeding.

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Harrin Jett and his crew reached out a few hours later, each faction making contact through their designated liaisons. For me, that meant dealing directly with Jett himself, the leader of his ragtag but determined crew of slaver hunters. The holo-call connected with a flicker, and his grinning face filled the display, a mixture of pride and exhaustion etched into his features. His greeting was quick, straight to the point—confirming their success in taking out the slaver crew I had pointed them toward.

It wasn’t just any group of slavers either. This was one of the smaller outfits operating under Jabba’s chain of command, a cog in the larger machine that made up his lucrative flesh trade. For a group like Jett’s—armed mostly with scavenged weapons and salvaged gear, barely patched together from the remains of previous fights—this kind of victory shouldn’t have been possible. But that’s what happens when you give someone the kind of intel that lets them hit their targets exactly where it hurts. I had earned Jett’s trust by handing over precise information, and now he was here, reporting the results. Overwhelming success.

As he spoke, my mind drifted to the next stage of the plan—pulling Jett’s crew further into our fold. They were good, but they weren’t equipped for the war we were preparing for. If we wanted them to be a real asset, they needed better weapons, better armor, and better defenses. And I had just the thing. My earlier models of custom weaponry weren’t as advanced as my current work, but even those would put anything on the open market to shame. If I played this right, I could tie Jett’s crew closer to us without him even realizing it.

Jett suddenly cut himself off mid-sentence, his head tilting slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Savant, you’ve got that look again.”

I blinked, pulling myself out of my thoughts. “What look?”

“That morally dubious look. Like you just came up with something that’s gonna change everything, and I’m about to get pulled along for the ride.”

Damn. Maybe I needed to work on my holo-call expressions. “That’s just your imagination,” I said smoothly, leaning back slightly. “But since you brought it up… I might have a proposal for you.”

Jett crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

I smirked slightly, keeping my voice level and calculated. “You and your crew have been scraping by on scavenged weapons. Decent enough for picking off slaver scum in small numbers, but you and I both know that’s not going to cut it forever. I’ve got custom gear—energy-efficient blasters, improved heat sinks, and shields that’ll take more than a couple of hits before failing. I don’t offer these to just anyone.”

Jett’s eyes darkened with barely restrained greed, his survival instincts warring with his desire for better equipment. “And what’s the catch?”

I shrugged. “Trade. You give me the loot you pulled from the slavers you just took down, and I’ll outfit your people with something better than that scrap you’ve been working with.”

He exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against the console in thought. “That’s a hell of an offer,” he admitted. “But we barely scrounge enough as it is. You expect us to just hand it all over?”

I leaned forward. “Consider it an investment. You get one set of gear—an early model. Pick it up at the designated drop-off, test it out for yourself, and then tell me if you think the trade’s worth it. Oh, and I’ll throw in another lead for you—a slaver camp, tied to Jabba’s operations. Should be just the right size for your crew to take out.”

Jett inhaled sharply. The combination of custom gear and prime intel was exactly the kind of deal he couldn’t walk away from, and he knew it. He could refuse out of pride, but that’d just mean keeping his crew at a disadvantage. Or he could take the offer, get a taste of what we were providing, and find himself unable to turn back.

After a long pause, he let out a dry chuckle. “You really know how to pull people in, Savant.”

I grinned. “That’s the job.”

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With Arlos and Shmi’s assistance, we managed to complete the upgrades and modifications on the Sentinel Security Droids well ahead of my original projected timeline. That left us free to move on to another pressing matter—helping Davik and Tarek with the retrieval and repairs of the derelict starships drifting around the station.

The Stellar Envoy had already completed the initial towing operation, bringing three of the more intact-looking corvettes into position adjacent to the docking bay. These vessels had been tagged in the station’s databanks as corvette-class ships based purely on their specs, but their exact make and model remained a mystery. They were old—real kriffin’ old. The hull plating on one of them showed significant stress fractures, and another had its entire port-side turbolaser turret assembly ripped clean off, likely in some battle long forgotten.

Standing inside the command office overlooking the docking bay, I leaned over the terminal, scrutinizing the live feed from my remotely controlled zero-g repair droids as they hovered around the derelicts. My mind was already working through the possibilities—how best to modernize these ships, what systems needed to be gutted and replaced, and, most importantly, if they were even worth keeping. I had to weigh our long-term goals against practicality. We had already planned to purchase at least two CR90 corvettes—a carrier variant and a standard model. Even if those were pre-owned, we had the facilities here to refurbish and upgrade them into something formidable.

These mystery corvettes, on the other hand? They technically were relics. They might have been cutting-edge so and so a hundred years ago, but now though? Now they were just drifting piles of salvage. I wasn’t about to waste time and resources on ships that wouldn’t stand up to modern tech. If we wanted something to actually use in the long term, we’d be better off modifying the CR90s to fit our needs.

But that didn’t mean these derelicts were useless.

“You’re thinkin’ of selling them then,” Davik said, arms crossed as he leaned against the console beside me. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, still eyeing the readouts. “Not just selling really, I was thinking of using them as recruitment incentives. We’re gathering allies left and right, yeah? What better way to secure their long-term loyalty than to give them the means to be more effective?”

“That's not a bad idea,” Tarek mused from the other side of the room. “Though I doubt any of ‘em have the creds or resources to get these birds flyin’ again. We’d be the ones to have to do the heavy lifting.”

“Exactly,” I said, turning to face the group. “We put in the work, get them spaceworthy, and then offer them up. In return, we get dedicated allies willing to take the fight to the slavers. And for the corvettes? We don’t really need them. But some backwater system looking to bolster their planetary defense, especially those on the edges of the Rim? Well they’d pay good credits for an armed warship, even if it’s quite old.”

Arlos, who had been silent until now, gave a thoughtful nod. “Selling to planetary governments means more credits in our pockets and more people with a vested interest in keeping us alive. If we eventually start offering frigates of our own design—”

“Oh, we’re gonna,” I interrupted with a grin.

He smirked. “—then this would be a good way to establish ourselves in the market first.”

That got me even more excited, giddy really. The derelicts outside weren’t limited to starships. We had entire graveyards of vehicles, droids, and enough scrap to keep us supplied with spare parts for the foreseeable future. And what's even better is that there were asteroid fields nearby that nobody had jurisdiction over. Meaning we could mine whatever we wanted and manufacture new components without relying on outside sources.

I was practically vibrating at this point, pacing back and forth as my mind reeled with the possibilities. “Think about it—we don’t just repair ships. We can build them. We start with the corvettes and move our way up. Eventually, we design and produce our own line of frigates. Fully armed, fully customizable, and built exactly how we need them to be.”

Somewhere in my excited ramblings, I must have started laughing—the kind of laugh that, as Davik once put it, made me sound like a mad scientist on a power trip. Because the next thing I knew, everyone was looking at me with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“Uh, Jake?” Tarek said, raising an eyebrow. “You good, buddy?”

I blinked, only now realizing that I had unconsciously done the laugh again. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to calm down. “Right. Sorry. Got a little carried away there.”

Shmi chuckled. “You think?”

Arlos, ever the polite one, tried to hide his smirk behind his hand. “Perhaps, Captain, you could go over your plan again. From the beginning.”

I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. From the top.”

Despite their teasing, I could see it—the glint in their eyes that told me they were on board with this. Because they knew. This wasn’t just some crazy dream. It was very much possible. We had the station, the resources, and the know-how. We weren’t just a small crew of overzealous pirate hunters and anti slavery fighters anymore.

We were building something bigger. And we are.