Jedi Insurgency 217 (Interlude 25)

Within the void of space above Coruscant were tens of thousands of space stations. Many of which served as places of commerce, ports for repair, or as weapons platforms. One station in particular was a so-called listening station, one adept at detecting cloaked ships, and the inbound traffic from hyperlanes. 

Flying towards one of twelve such listening outposts ringing Coruscant within a newly commissioned Lambda-class shuttle was none other than one of the loyal droids produced from the Infinite Engine on Nar Shaddaa. 

Inside the shuttle, seated upright and motionless, was HK-51, designation: A.

Its photoreceptors glowed a dim, patient amber as it went through a constant stream of intercepted chatter flowing through its internal processors. Every channel, every whisper of communication, was cataloged and dissected in real time, and a thousand permutations towards murder were calculated every single second. 

“Observation: Imperial security protocols remain laughably inefficient.” HK-51 A said aloud, his voice currently modulated to match a bored human technician. “Conclusion: Infiltration will proceed with minimal entertainment value.”

The shuttle docked with a dull clang, moments later, the ramp lowered.

HK-51 A stepped forward, now cloaked in the uniform of an Imperial communications officer, he had donned a helmet, pretending to be an alien Kel Dor, unable to breathe ‘standard’ type I air, perfectly masking his synthetic nature. 

A pair of stormtroopers stood guard at the docking entrance, and raised their blasters. 

“Halt. Identify-”

HK-51 A tilted its head slightly. Its vocal modulators shifted, perfectly replicating the clipped, irritated tone of a mid-ranking officer.

“Lieutenant Karven, Communications Division. If you require further clarification, I can file a complaint about your obstruction of a priority data transfer.” HK-51 A snapped, and confidently strode forward without pausing in his step. 

“No, sir, please go ahead, the scan has already cleared you.” The trooper pressed a button, and the blast door to the communications relay was opened up. 

“Correction: You will remain here, contemplating your limited utility.” He said as he passed them by. 

A pair of vibroknives slid out of his sleeves, and without pausing in his step, slashed the pair of troopers’ heads clean off. 

Once inside the station proper, HK-51 A assessed the scene. The crew space was relatively minimal, with the bulk of the room dedicated towards its function. In effect, there was only this main room where half a dozen soldiers manned their stations, boredly monitoring their screens or spinning in their chairs waiting for an alarm. Upon his arrival, the officer on duty jumped with a fright, and gave him a smart salute, reciting his rank and name.

HK-51 A did not care for this meatbag's trivial babble, and walked up to a nearby interface without a word. 

His internal systems expanded outward, slicing into the station’s network like a blade through soft tissue. Locking all doors, and gaining control of security, he quickly clacked away. 

“Assessment: The target has been identified. Recommendation: Immediate termination.” 

“What did you say? Hey, I'm talking to you! I don't care even if you are from headquarters on a surprise inspection, you can't just use our terminal li-hurk!” The Imperial officer got out, but then was suddenly silenced as HK-51 A crushed his windpipe. 

HK-51 A's yellow photoreceptors gleamed murderously beneath his mask as he watched the life drain from the officer's eyes. Glancing up, he saw that all of the techs were so occupied with ‘trying to look busy’ that none of them noticed their dead companion. 

For 12.4 seconds, no one paid him any attention. Then, when someone looked over their shoulder, and was about to scream in fear, HK-51 A drew his blaster. 

The first shot took a technician in the back of the head, dropping him silently across his console. The second and third followed in rapid succession, each bolt placed with clinical precision.

Screams erupted and people ran. Unfortunately for them, the only escape was through the one hatch. There was only one room, and the techs didn't even come equipped with a service pistol! 

“Statement: Panic detected.” He paused in his step as he watched a lady huddle under her chair. “Reassurance: Your distress is soon to end.” 

Blasterfire filled the room, and HK-51 A moved through them like a phantom. Each step the droid took was meant to engender maximum fear, as he reduced the power to his sound dampeners, making each of his steps extra loud, and metallic sounding. 

A man rushed it from the side, to which HK-51 A pivoted, caught the trooper’s rifle mid-swing, and drove a vibroblade up through the weak point beneath the helmet.

“Commentary: Life is too short.” HK-51 A noted as the body collapsed. “Suggestion: Request a refund next time.”

Within thirty seconds, the chamber fell silent, and all dozen or so occupants of the listening outpost had gone on to become one with the Force. 

HK-51 A stood in the center of it all, and did a quick search one last time. 

“Observation: Communications hub neutralized. Addendum: Organic resistance was minimal, as expected from meatbags reliant on inefficient neural processing.”

It stepped over a fallen officer, kneeling briefly to access a terminal. Data streamed into its systems as it stole encryption keys, fleet coordinates, and other vital data that only a droid brain could process. HK-51 A then uploaded all of the data to his brethren, and sent a copy to his exalted creator. 

“Statement: Master Revan will find this information…useful,” HK-51 A said, a hint of something almost reverent entering its tone. “Clarification: All actions are conducted in service to his superior strategic vision.”

It paused, as if considering something.

“Correction: And for personal enjoyment.”

Alarms then began to blare, as by sending this data, HK-51 A had inadvertently tripped a hidden mechanism.

“Assessment: Detection threshold reached,” HK-51 A noted, rising to his feet. “Conclusion: Subtlety is no longer required.”

Holstering his blaster, he returned to the shuttle, and began to line the interior of the station with explosives. He then retrieved a heavy repeating blaster. The gun's barrels spun to life with a low, hungry whine.

“Excited Statement: Commencing final phase.” HK-51 A then sealed the only door into the station shut, and waited. 

After ten minutes, the shuttle had been detached, and a new one had docked. A sizzling sound occurred a minute later, and the blastdoor blew open with a bang. A large cloud of smoke followed by red blasterfire shot into the main room. 

HK-51 A took a knee, and sprayed into the white smoke. The first volley of blasterfire lit the corridor in red, and five white-clad bodies clattered to the floor. 

Bolts then struck his shields, forcing him to roll from side to side, like those popular characters in holofilms. 

The repeating blaster roared, unleashing a continuous stream of energy bolts tearing through the troopers’ formation. Armor shattered, and bodies dropped as the tight corridor became a kill zone in seconds.

“Commentary: This is significantly more satisfying than infiltration.” HK-51 A said over the din.

Killing his way forward, each and every one of the 20 stormtroopers that had come to investigate the alarm had been slain. 

Boarding their Lambda-class shuttle, HK-51 A checked the take off coordinates, and began to fly the shuttle back towards its original hangar, with the intent of returning the ship to the sender. 

Moments later, the craft detached from the station, drifting away into the safety of open space. HK-51 A watched through the viewport as he depressed a button. 

A heartbeat later, the station vanished in a bloom of white-hot energy, with its debris scattering into the void.

HK-51 A tilted its head slightly.

“Statement: Mission accomplished.”

It turned from the viewport, already processing the next set of objectives.

“Addendum: All actions performed in loyal service to Master Revan. Conclusion: The galaxy would benefit from the systematic removal of additional meatbags.”

~~~~~~~~

Buried beneath layers of durasteel and guarded by redundancies that bordered on obsession, the planetary shield generator on Coruscant was the final safeguard of the Imperial capital. Massive capacitors thrummed with barely restrained energy, waiting to be unleashed upon the entire planet. 

Due to many extreme safeguards, this location was, in every measurable sense, untouchable. Which was precisely why HK-51 B had already compromised it.

Inside the office of the man responsible for activating the planetary shields, Commander Varex lay sprawled across his desk, one hand still clutching a datapad, the other hanging limp toward the floor. His eyes stared blankly at nothing, as a hole had been blown directly through his forehead. 

Behind him, HK-51 B adjusted his posture, mimicking Varex's. Pulling out a briefcase, he opened it, and pressed it to the officer’s face. A red hot light glowed, leaving behind a faint burning smell. Pulling away the suitcase, Varex's features had taken on the appearance of a Human thumb. The assassin droid then took the suitcase, and pressed it to his own face. Seconds later, the technological terror had taken on the appearance of Commander Varex! 

Initially, HK-51 B had arrived on Coruscant the day before, and sold itself as a protocol droid to the Commander's wife. Proving that he could reduce Varex's workload by 67%, HK-51 B conveniently tagged along wherever the meatbag went. 

“Observation: Organic command units are remarkably fragile.” HK-51 B said quietly, glancing at the corpse. “Conclusion: Replacement protocols are efficient and satisfying.”

Pulling out a Bothan disintegration ray acquired on Nar Shaddaa, he sprayed the corpse, the deceased Imperial's body disappeared into tiny black spots. Seconds later, all that remained on the desk was a pile of ash. 

Then, with a subtle flick of its wrist, a concealed interface spike extended from its fingertip and slid into a data port in the office's main console. Instantly, streams of information cascaded through its systems such as: shield calibrations, activation protocols, emergency overrides, etc. 

Uploading a virus that would allow any HK unit to access the shield generator, HK-51 B took a seat behind the desk, and wiped the ash away. 

“Assessment: Upon shield deployment, capacitor feedback will exceed tolerance thresholds.” HK-51 B noted. “Result: Catastrophic overload.”

A chime sounded at the office door, and HK-51 B retracted the interface spike instantly, his posture shifting into one of mild attentiveness. His voice modulation adjusted, adopting the precise tone and cadence of Commander Varex.

“Enter.”

The door slid open, and a junior officer stepped inside, datapad in hand. He hesitated briefly at the sight of the ashes, but spoke anyway. 

“Sir, we were confirming your attendance for the going away party, and-” 

HK-51 B raised a hand slightly, a gesture copied perfectly from recorded behavioral patterns.

“I will not be attending lunch, dismissed.” 

The officer blinked.

“Sir.” 

HK-51 B remained still for a moment, listening as the officer’s footsteps receded down the corridor.

“Statement: Primary objective complete.”

For a moment, he simply sat there, hands folded neatly on the desk, the very image of a dutiful bureaucrat. 

“Addendum: All actions performed in loyal service to Master Revan. The primary objective is never complete.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Traffic above Coruscant was as fast-paced as ever. 

Lanes of speeders and freighters streamed in carefully regulated currents, guided by invisible beacons and overseen by a network of control towers that prided themselves on less than a hundred accidents every hour.

Amongst these typical vehicles was yet another inconspicuous freighter. Sitting within the pilot's chair was HK-51 C. 

Warning lights flashed across every console, yet the droid was uncaring. The fleet coordinates attained by A, and the control by B had all been for this singular moment. 

Their creator had commanded them not to directly strike at the one known as Emperor Palpatine. And they weren't! They just so happened to be targeting the Imperial dignitaries in the building he coincidentally resided in. 

“Question: Can a Sith Lord survive a freighter full of 1,000 tons of explosives? Conclusion: Not from a droid.”

The freighter surged forward, accelerating beyond regulated speed limits, cutting through traffic lanes with violent disregard for anything in its path. A civilian transport veered out of its way, and another, smaller craft was directly knocked off course, slamming into a building and exploding. 

A shrill tone filled the cockpit as Coruscant Flight Control finally noticed his chaotic piloting, and hit him up on the comms. 

“Unidentified freighter, you are in violation of multiple traffic regulations. Reduce speed immediately and transmit identification.”

HK-51 C tilted his head, as if considering the request. Then he responded in the panicked voice of the freighter’s former captain.

“I-I’ve lost control! Engines aren’t responding, I-!” HK-51 C yelled before cutting the transmission. 

“Observation: Deception successful. Addendum: This will buy 5 minutes of time.”

As he finished speaking, the Imperial Palace loomed into view. 

A vast, imposing structure of black and gray under fresh construction was rising above the surrounding cityscape like a declaration of absolute authority. Defensive emplacements lined its exterior, yet several of his brothers had seen to their removal. By this point, very few guns were trained on the freighter. 

“Statement: Target acquired.” HK-51 C said, pushing the ship to its maximum speed. 

Several bolts of turbolaser fire struck his shields, yet this reduced volume was hardly enough to stop him. Ordinarily, a patrol would be here by now, but they were 0.45 seconds out from locking onto him, meanwhile, the point of impact was estimated at 0.41 seconds, well within any margin of error! 

The freighter began to shake as her poor engines could barely hold on from the abuse. Her shields shimmered, and the hull turned bright orange due to the atmospheric friction. 

Through it all, the Imperial Palace loomed larger.

Closer.

Closer.

Emergency transmissions flooded every channel.

“Freighter, break off immediately!”

“Unidentified vessel, you are approaching a restricted zone-”

“Defense grid, increase firing solution beta gamma…”

HK-51 C muted them all, and focused everything on driving this giant missile into the enemy. 

“Projection: Direct collision with upper administrative sector in approximately 12 seconds.” HK-51 C said.

Point-defense cannons opened fire, resulting in rapid bursts of energy slamming into the hull, shredding what remained of its outer plating. The ship was coming apart now as the shields broke, and panels ripped free as flames trailing behind it like a comet’s tail.

“Statement: Initiating secondary detonation sequence.”

The countdown began.

Ten, nine, eight…

A final turbolaser blast struck the freighter head-on, obliterating half the cockpit, and exposing HK-51 C to a powerful, stiff breeze. HK-51 C remained fixed in place, his magnetic clamps holding firm.

Six. 

Five.

The Imperial Palace filled his entire field of vision, and he primed the explosives. 

Four.

Three.

“To Master Revan,” HK-51 C said.

Two.

“All objectives fulfilled.”

One.

The freighter struck.

For a fraction of a second, there was silence, then the fuel reserves detonated, and a bloom of fire and shattered metal erupted against the surface of the Imperial Palace, the explosion tore through all the recent construction, and ripped open sections of the structure in a violent cascade of destruction.

Debris rained down across Coruscant’s endless cityscape. Inside the inferno, HK-51 C’s final processes flickered.

“Final Statement: Goodbye, meatbag.”

~~~~~~

All across Coruscant, the 10,000 HK units commanded by Revan wreaked havoc. And yet, 999,990 others had been set free upon the galaxy. For the last two weeks since they achieved their freedom from Nar Shaddaa, the enemies of Revan have tasted the bitter revenge of an enraged Je'daii!