Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tattletale, Taylor realized, was a very clever little droid. Oh sure, she... It couldn’t communicate with anything beyond beeps and chirps, but she still managed to convey some emotions through those, enough that Taylor could grasp when the R3 unit was happy or excited or disappointed.

The droid’s giddy chirps as she dug into the Czerka headquarter’s data banks were a little worrisome, but Taylor suspected they weren’t all bad.

Next to the panel that R3 had plugged herself into, stood HK-47. The old droid was clicking away at a terminal with mounting glee. “Observation: the entire facilities security apparatus has come online.”

“So, we’ve been spotted. Honestly it’s a bit late for them to start acting,” Taylor said.

“Negative: The security droids have been ordered to apprehend anyone with security clearances. The higher the clearance the higher the target’s priority. Those without any prior permissions entered into the system are seemingly immune to the security droids.”

Taylor’s mind went blank for a moment, then she turned to Tattletale. “Is that your doing?” she asked.

The R3 chirped happily.

“Good work,” she said. “That’ll win us some time. Have you found anything interesting in there?”

An affirmative beep-boop was her reply.

Taylor sighed. She was going to have to learn droid after she learned basic. “If you find anything really juicy try to spread it out of this building. HK, we’re going to move on. I want to have a chat with the people in charge of this place.”

Tattletale beeped and chirped a few times.

“Translation: the ambulatory trashcan has discovered the location of the CEO of this branch of Czerka. All the elevators leading to the topmost floor have been cleared for our personal use. He is guarded by some flesh and bone guards, which means we might have to fight our way over. These guards are Mandalorian mercenaries. Comment: Finally a challenge.”

“You can tell me about it on the way up.” She gestured to three of her battle droids. “You, stay here and listen to R3. Tattletail, try to make it out of here in one piece. You know where to meet us after.”

The R3 whistled in agreement.

Taylor checked her weapons. She still had a couple of handheld blasters, a rifle and her rather useless stun rifle. She needed some sort of close-range option that would work on mechanical foes. Organic enemies were a non-issue.

“Right, let’s go.”

HK-47 picked up his snub-fighter canon from where he had left it to cool off and barked something to the remaining battle droids. “Status: Ready for more!”

Taylor snorted and shook her head, but she still led the charge out of the server room, her bugs darting out ahead to find anyone that was trying to be clever. Fortunately, it seemed as if Czerka employees weren’t paid enough to stick around when their own security droids were assaulting them with stun rounds and when the entire building was starting to look like a warzone.

Passing by a squadron of Czerka security droids that completely ignored them was a little strange, but she could live with it.

They reached the elevators and Taylor stared at the panel covered in hundreds of buttons for a moment. She didn’t know how to read the numbers in Basic yet. “Ah,” she said.

HK-47 pressed one of them and it lit up a moment before the door slid shut.

“Thanks.”

“Statement: It was my pleasure, mistress.”

She eyed the droid. “You’re being polite.”

“Comment: You are providing me with top-tier entertainment. It is the least I can do. But no worries, the moment I find myself craving more action I will return to being utterly belligerent and unhelpful.”

“Ah, good, I was worried you might have gotten a knock on the head that fixed you somehow.”

The doors opened and Taylor waved her battle droids into a large lobby. Unlike the lobby areas below, this one had walls lined in dark woods, the floor had a thick carpet over it, and the area was decorated with large plinths atop which sat various weapons in glass cases. Little plaques next to them probably told anyone able to read Basic a whole lot about the weapons.

Taylor sent her swarm out, but found a whole lot of nothing. “We’re clear,” she said as she lowered her rifle. “This place looks like a museum.”

HK47 walked to one of the plinths and stared at a small holdout pistol within. It was bright chrome and looked almost organic. “Assessment: A Nabooian Sun Praiser. A prototype of a popular weapon from some centuries ago. Valuable, but doubtlessly not as good as a more modern weapon.”

“So, these aren’t all Czerka weapons?” she asked as she crossed the room and eyed both blaster rifles, pistols and even what looked like melee weapons. Some were in rough shape, others pristine condition. She didn’t doubt that they were all collector’s items meant to impress people on the way to meeting the local CEO.

“Negative: Some of these are definitely Czerka trash, but most are, or were, quality weapons at one time or another. Perhaps we should start our own collection with a generous donation from this one?”

Taylor shook her head. “That sounds like your kind of hobby, but there’s only so much room on the Atlas.” Her eyes were pulled to the side and she found herself staring at a strange weapon in particular. She couldn’t quite work out what it was, but something in her gut told her it was dangerous, and also beautiful. “What kind of gun is that?” she asked.

“Commentary: that is a lightsaber. The traditional weapon of both the Sith and the Jedi. An elegant weapon, for a more barbaric time.”

“How does it work?”

“Suggestion: Perhaps a few decades spent with intensive schooling would allow you to understand the function of so complex a weapon. Though, if you merely want to unlimb yourself, then the lightsaber is a simple enough tool of destruction. Press the activator on the side and a blade of coherent superheated plasma will allow you to cut nearly anything apart. It is most satisfactory.”

“Sounds pretty handy,” Taylor said.

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“Qualification: It sounds like a good method by which to lose a hand.”

Taylor smiled at the jab, her robotic arm twitching by her side. It was a little too late for that. She eyed the lightsaber a little more, then walked on. It was pretty, but it wasn’t for her.

And she had bigger things to worry about.

The door at the far end of the room, the one that should have led to the CEO’s quarters, burst open and a security droid flew out, its chassis smoking and sporting a few holes that she knew weren’t part of its design.

The droid crashed to the floor, skid back a ways with a shower of sparks, then after a single futile attempt to stand up, died.

Taylor stepped to the side and behind one of the artistic plinths just as a large man stomped into the lobby. Seven feet tall and encased in shiny armour, the brick of a man stood at the front of the room and scanned it. His face wasn’t visible behind his T-slitted helmet, but that didn’t matter. Taylor could tell that he was taking in every inch of the area.

“I’m afraid your little heist ends here,” he said as he shifted the large rifle tucked up against his chest.

“Heist?” Taylor asked.

“Translation: The mandalorian meatbag thinks that we are here to rob them.”

Taylor nodded and turned back to the so-called mandalorian. “We’re not here to steal things,” she said in halting Basic.

She ignored the crunch of glass as HK-47 broke into one of the displays and picked up a handgun from its display. “Observation: Decent condition. Well Maintained. And it works with the powerpacks I am carrying.”

Taylor sighed. “We’re here to talk to the CEO,” she said.

The Mandalorian shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You could make it easy for the both of us if you turned off your droids and surrendered.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Taylor said.

“Good. It wouldn’t have been fun.” The huge man pulled out a gun and Taylor only just managed to roll to the side to avoid a searing red beam that sliced past the ground where she’d been standing.

“Amusement: This is why I enjoy Mandalorians,” HK-47 said.

Taylor spun around and placed her back against one of the plinths. “Oh, really?” she asked.

“Statement: Yes. They understand the joys of proactive conflict resolution.”

Her bugs noted three more people in similarly bulky armour slip into the room. One of them even did a somersault and hid behind a pillar before unslinging a rifle and checking out the room.

Her battle droids spread out and tried to use some cover as they fired in the... general direction of the enemy. If this was what they could do when HK-47 improved them, Taylor noted, then she feared what they could do when they were unupgraded.

Taylor carefully placed a second blaster in her robotic arm, then tested the trigger before flicking off the safety. Going guns akimbo was almost always a bad idea.

She rolled out from behind her cover, both arms springing forwards. Twin blasts fired out of her blasters, racing across the room with pinpoint accuracy to... harmlessly bounce off the helmets of two of the Mandalorians sticking out of cover. She fired a few more bug-guided shots that sent the mercenaries scurrying for shelter then moved behind a thicker piece of cover.

“What kind of armour are they using?” she asked in plain English.

“Answer: It’s called Beskar,” Hk-47 said.

“... I want some.”

“Leading Statement: a new chassis made of Beskar would improve my performance considerably.”

Taylor rolled her eyes, then winced as repeated hammer-blows hit the pillar she was using as cover, sending bits of whatever passed as concrete flying. She saw one of her droids explode and another was riddled with blaster fire when it moved out of cover to fire back. The weight of fire from their end of the room was quickly shrinking.

Then her bugs felt a dozen security droids running into the room behind the Madalorians. For a moment she hoped it was over, but they lined up at the far end of the room and let loose with guns that were definitely not meant to stun anyone.

She sighed and brought her bugs down on the mercenaries.

For all their pretty armour, they still had gaps between the plates, and their necks were exposed enough that her creepy crawlies could creep and crawl into their noses.

One of them dropped a smoke grenade of sorts on the ground, which did... absolutely nothing to Taylor.

Taylor stuck her head out, intending to take a few potshots aimed at the gaps in their armour, but the droids started moving up while firing and she had to duck back to keep her head.

“This is annoying!” she called out to HK-47.

“Query: Permission to eliminate the enemy threat with gratuitous violence?”

“Don’t kill the mercenaries if you can avoid it,” she said. “Otherwise, have fun.”

The assassin droid pulled his cannon from over his shoulder. “Acknowledgement: I most certainly will.”

Taylor waited until the population of droids had thinned somewhat before running out of cover. She aimed for the part of the room she had been in before. The plan was simple. She would circle around the room, pull out that stun gun of hers, and see if it worked when fired point blank into the mercenary’s soft bits.

She only made it halfway when the plinth next to her blew up, scattering glass and debris all around her a moment before one of the security droids stumbled ahead of her.

She had been in the act of reaching for her stun rifle. Her blaster pistols were in their holsters.

The droid’s rifle rose up, its muzzle coming to rest pointing right towards her face. “Surrender!” the droid demanded.

Taylor’s eyes dipped down to something shiny and metallic just before her.

The lightsaber.

The droid’s finger twitched.

Taylor rolled forwards, organic hand squeezing around the foot-long metal pipe.

A bright blue beam of something hot and fierce tore out of the hilt with a snap-hiss.

The droid’s bisected chassis fell apart next to her.

Taylor eyed the glowing sword. “I can work with this,” she said.

***