What the scanners around Christopsis couldn't pick up, no matter if they chained the output of all the Golans together, was the observation vessel drifting in the shadow of a dead dwarf planet far away from the habitable zone. It was a scarred, pockmarked rock sitting on the far edge of the Christoph system and its border, going around the faraway, pinhead-sized sun. The ship itself arrived more than two weeks ago, and since then, it has been sitting there calmly... waiting. No lights shone from the ship's hull, no transponder ssages were going in or out, and the ship had long since gone dark, riding on passive sensors only. Until an hour ago... Right when the chaos of the attack arrived, using its interference to get the readings they needed, powering up just enough to observe.
Inside, the small crew of a dozen people, from different species, watched in silence, recording everything, before going dark again.
The battle was over quickly, and all the incoming ships were destroyed without much of an issue.
"Debris fields are forming in predictable vectors..." One voice reported, followed by another.
"Christophsis’ orbital defense systems had responded in under twenty-four seconds. First, they test shield-strength via turbolasers, then missile lock-on, followed by coordinated kill-box targeting across three Golan platforms at a minimum. Standard procedure, no sign of advanced tactics being used."
"Pack the data and get it ready to transmit it back ho." The mission leader's gruff voice echoed in acknowledgent, modulated by the helt he wore, which featured a T-shaped visor on its front side.
His armored figure was seated behind the primary sensor station, overlooking the crewpit where a woman tapped a few keys with gloved hands, and the data was imdiately beginning to be transmitted in a compressed, encrypted burst. It was too fast for civilian sensors to notice, pointed toward a relay buoy they had left behind, anchored in deep space, outside of the system's borders.
“Their contact pattern is exploitable,” the first observer murmured, turning his chair and looking at his superior, “It's nothing but a kill-box formation re-established at one point seven seconds. Our strike teams can exploit it and take their shields down before they have a chance to react."
"I agree," another man with a larger, broader shoulder joined in on the conversation and leaned over the sensor station he was working at, “They followed simulation delta exactly. We don't even need the main fleet to co.”
“Don't be reckless,” added a third voice, much more calm and higher-pitched, belonging to a zabrak female, “If we assu it just from one probing attack that this is the best they can do, we can run into a trap. We are not amateurs, nor are we rcenaries. We are warriors... act like it.”
"Yeah, but–" the man tried to argue, but was cut short.
“This is why you are still trainees.” The seated leader glanced over their shoulders, remaining seated, “No matter, your input has been heard and considered.” A pause followed his voice as everyone nodded in acknowledgent, turning back towards their stations, dropping idle chatter. “We’ll need new ships so we can run the alpha trial." The leader continued, "Koreta is right, one test is not the end-all be-all. A capable general can and will hold his cards close before playing them. Even if they don't have such a person, we ought to assu it is the case.”
"We have a ping back!" The deep-space communication operator reported suddenly. “Report’s been received. Second wave's path has been confird... Data received. We are to take active asurents. Twelve hours until mission start.”
"Good." The leader nodded his head, standing up, looking at the crew through his visor, "Take your rest in turns... then prepare for battle."
...
....
......
A few hours after the attack, aboard Christophsis' orbital station, the lockdown lasted three hours.
Which ant three hours of standing by in the Silverlight, sensors running every fifteen minutes, but they usually found nothing. I was also monitoring the comms, but my filters picked up not one keyword I put into it. Lastly, there was HK, who was pacing like a beast stuck in a cage. On the other hand, Vila had spent most of it in the co-pilot’s seat with her legs on the dashboard, flipping through trade bulletins and muttering how she’d kill for so decent caf or sothing to munch on. On the other hand, when there was nothing to check, I was ditating, trying to stabilize myself and expand on my senses to encompass the whole station. By the ti the leaders finally lifted the ergency protocols and allowed movent through the station one more ti, my mind felt much clearer than before.
I also went through all the details in my head: There were no follow-up attacks, and there were no new pings on any of the long-range radars I had access to. Of course, that didn't an there wasn't any, simply subtle enough to remain undetected. A prepared party could remain unnoticed against the backdrop of space, especially without running engines and the output of streams of plasma. Finding a ship would be like aiming to nail a fly hiding inside a bantha's fur from hundreds of ters.
Still... By now, I was sure that there had to be soone out there, watching the drifting wreckage, listening to the scrambled comm chatter from confused civvies, rchants stuck in orbit, and a flurry of half-panicked security reports coming from the Orbital Defense Force.
My focus was still on the people, though... I should’ve felt sothing. Maybe they didn't leave anyone behind to keep the backdoor they cracked open and accessible... Because if they did, there should have been a hint of deception or so kind of alien purpose I could pick up on. Instead, I felt only... static. The soup of the locals' fear and worry was amplified by this attack, turning the whole thing into a diluted experience I had under the Rakatan ruins. It wasn't as intense a fear as it was then, but it still made rember it.
Finally, after receiving the all-clear, we left the ship an hour after the lockdown lifted, acting like bored travelers again, drifting back into the upper comrcial deck. HK trailed behind us, acting like our bodyguard, not saying a word unless soone looked at him too long, in which case he’d let out a faint chanical growl that made them walk faster. I think he enjoyed it, calling more and more people atbags.
As for our goal, it was just following my instincts... I knew there was soone here who was with the attackers... I just... knew. And after my eting with Master Yoda, I wanted to adhere to what he said: Trust the Force. Trust its guidance. So, we checked three more shops. Finding nothing, we moved on to my second idea and walked two separate concourses. Nothing... Noticing Vila's growling stomach, we then ate a second al at a different tapcaf where the fried roots tasted like salted rubber... I wasn't a fan of it, and neither was Vila, complaining all the way that she ate things like this when she was a slave. But she still ate it all, including my portion.
But... I felt nothing new. What was I missing?
Everyone remained tense and afraid, even more so than before. The kind of negative feelings that cling to you after a panic attack... The 'what if it happens again' type... Wait... Maybe that is it. I can use it as a filter and see whose feelings don't match it...
“Maybe we missed them,” Vila said, leaning back, slurping on her drink after the al was gone from my plate. "Or they were never here. I think we are chasing shadows, Kael."
“Maybe,” I folded my arms, scanning the corridor outside the tapcaf. “They may have co and gone, or they are unknown assistants, opening a backdoor without realizing it.”
“Or…” She offered, “They’re just that good. I heard tales about old Imperial Agents, working for the ISB or what it was called. People who could play their roles to perfection and beco a different person altogether! Maybe they self-hypnotize or sothing...”
“Or that.” She wasn't wrong, but it further strengthened my idea... So, I closed my eyes and stretched out again with the Force, now with a new focus.
I let the noise of the station fade; it was not what I had to focus on. I had let the thoughts of fear blur into a unified blanket. Let the background thoughts, all that was on the sa wavelength, just mix and create a single droning sound. When I was done with it, I just listened... I was looking for a shift in that droning... that spike, that flash of sothing different, that would indicate that soone was probably faking it or focusing it elsewhere...
There! I could sense a faint flicker, a sudden turn, a spike, and a flavor change in the stream of fear. It was like the shiver you feel when you are just doing nothing, sitting around, and from nowhere, it runs through you before disappearing. Yes... That projected 'fear' was fake... a masquerade, and now I could locate it and focus on it, ripping away the facade, and when I did, it transford into a completely new feeling:
Duty.
Still, even after my success, it wasn’t strong, and it wasn’t clear. If I wasn't focusing well enough, it would slip past ... But it wasn’t fake.
"I found it..." I opened my eyes and turned, scanning the passing crowd.
"Really?!" Vila perked up, finishing her drink. "Do you know where?"
"No... Not yet... Let try..." I muttered, still holding the sensation, not wanting to let it go.
Where were you coming from...? I muttered to myself, trying to find its source and map it in my mind. At first, there was nothing unusual. A group of cargo haulers is dragging boxes... No. Past them... Hm... A pair of station officers are arguing over paperwork. No, not here either... A woman in engineer overalls reading from a datapad. Maybe...? Wait... The owner of it had just made a decision... Yes... They just made a choice.
“...They’re still here,” I murmured. "I can't wholly locate them, but they made a choice. Vila, a new attack is incoming, and this ti it will be more serious..."
"It would be best if we move in and capture the bastards," Vila said, looking at sharply. “Let's go, walking around, we can narrow it further than just sitting here!”
Without hesitation, we moved through the upper comrcial ring, trying to keep a steady pace but not hurrying so as not to draw any attention to ourselves. Vila made it easy, as her curiosity was never faked and every ti I needed to clear a few emotions around , she’d peel off to inspect a display window, ask a vendor about sothing shiny, or try on a piece of clothing she had zero intention of buying just to help find the thread again. HK though...
[Observation: This organic periter sweep is inefficient. Query: Shall I simply activate my visual threat protocols and scan everyone in range for concealed weaponry? Addendum: I can shoot them. In the leg. Non-lethal, of course.]
“No,” I muttered without looking at him. “The last thing we need is for you to start painting targets on half the station.”
[Grudging Statent: It would narrow our search considerably.]
“Yeah,” Vila said over her shoulder, looking at him, “right up until station security also paints us as the attackers. You just want to shoot sothing already...”
[Exclamation: Of course!]
"Enough... This way... we are getting close!" I snorted, increasing my steps as we crossed into one of the parts of the station we visited before... Yes... I was sure of it.
There was a surge of emotion, a mix of frustration and impatience to hurry up. Our spy was falling behind schedule? I couldn't think about anything else as there was a deliberate shift in his... or her emotional tone that cut straight through the background noise. They were arguing with soone... About sothing... But they couldn't afford to go all out either.
"Here..." I stopped in front of a shop display to cover my pause. “Stay close,” I told Vila softly, “I think I’ve got them...”
“Great!” she murmured, instantly serious, though to anyone else she still looked like she was comparing overpriced jackets.
I wouldn't be able to miss them now as they beca as bright as a lighthouse in a storm... And then I saw it: Tanno’s Droidworks. Is it a coincidence that it is the sa shop where HK found the backdoor? No. The Force doesn't deal in coincidences. Gotcha... The mont I stepped through the door, the emotional spike locked into place like I’d just tuned a sensor dish to the right frequency, only hearing it, no longer bothered by the static. Shelves and racks looked the sa as before: servo joints, motivator coils, mismatched plating, but now the air felt different.
The two attendants from our last visit were still here, the younger one hunched over a half-dismantled astroch while the older man wiped his hands on a rag... But they weren’t alone... my target was also here.
A third man stood at the counter, leaning on one elbow as he argued quietly with the shopkeeper. At first glance, he was in his mid-forties, human, spacer’s jacket scuffed at the seams, hair cropped close enough to hide any grey trails in it. His voice was calm but edged with irritation and impatience... his fingers sotis twitching, dangerously close to his blaster, hanging on his right side.
“I told you,” he was saying, “that unit’s mine. I pawned it here weeks ago, and now I’m here to buy it back.” He tapped a finger on the counter toward a battered R7 astroch sitting dormant on the workbench. “You still have it, so I want to buy it. This is a shop, as far as I know...”
"Look," The older attendant sighed, “You pawned it, and you left it here for repairs. You want it back, you pay the repair fee. That is the basic deal at the minimum! We are not working for free.”
"I don't have that much!" The man’s jaw tightened. “It wasn't even that broken to ask for that much!”
I think I understood it then and there... That droid was the backdoor... It was created through it, using the shop as an unknown interdiary... Smart. But now that sothing is probably coming, he is here to destroy the evidence and leave. Too bad the old man was looking to exploit his apparent hurry and need. I could feel his greed... Too bad, my friend, you showed a jackal that you need the droid. Now they will milk you dry. Never do that...
"Kael?" Vila asked, making smile.
"I think we are here to buy a droid." I smiled, making her eyes light up.
"The R7?" She smacked her lips, "Count in... This is going to be fun!"
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