Episode II - Full Stop - Part 6

Captain Sarcune watched through the viewport of the Absolute from the bridge. The light-tunnel of hyperspace swirled around the Star Destroyer. Sarcune marveled at the illusion. The human eye was only receptive to so much of the visible spectrum, and what men saw in hyperspace was just a fraction of the forces swirling through it. Information, energy, and power – Somehow, the ancient civilizations of the galaxy had figured out a way to send men and their vessels through hyperspace long ago. In doing so, they had made the galaxy smaller – More accessible to all, yet somehow, still divided.

Ideology, race, custom – The worlds were laid bare for all to see, and yet, there was war. The nature of all creatures, it seemed to Sarcune, was to take or keep. The Emperor knew this. Sarcune knew this. Despite thousands of worlds, somehow there was not enough for everyone. The powerful, like Dooku and his allies in the Trade Federation, the Banking Clan, and the Techno Union, had sought to separate themselves from the Republic, to deregulate their businesses, in an attempt to make even more credits for themselves. They had instigated war upon the galaxy, and the Republic, under the leadership of the Senate and the Jedi, fought back. Yet, as the war was being won – After Dooku was killed during a rescue of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, the Jedi had revealed themselves for who they truly were – Warmongers.

With the galaxy destabilized and the Clone Armies at their disposal, the formidable Jedi had attempted a coup. But one of their own had stood up to them, and the clones themselves were loyal to the Republic – They could not be turned. The clones had saved the galaxy from allowing a small group of elites, who wielded their power almost unilaterally at times, from taking control. Palpatine, the gentle, peace-seeking leader of the Republic, had been scarred in the attempted coup – Hideously deformed by forces against him. The Senate, seeing an opportunity for a quick restoration of order, and seeing in Palpatine a man who knew firsthand the consequences of war, named him Emperor of the newly formed Galactic Empire.

Hyperspace swirled about the Absolute, and Captain Sarcune knew he was only seeing a fraction of what was really out there.

“Captain, one minute until we drop out of hyperspace,” said the navigation officer.

“Understood,” said Sarcune. “All hands to battle stations!”

***

Bondi followed BX-22 through a door into a small corridor just off the main room. The corridor curved sharply, and entered into another room. As they entered, lights flickered on to reveal a large machine of some sort that Bondi didn’t recognize in the middle of the room. The air reeked. A mixture of chemicals and rotten meat. In one corner of the room was a large chest. It seemed out of place.

“What is this thing?” asked Bondi, motioning to the large machine.

“It’s a rather ingenious device,” said BX-22. “Dr. Renfro designed it. He must have anticipated our needs. I must say, he is a unique person. Very different from Dr. Capra, but equally as brilliant, in his own way…”

“What is it!” Bondi demanded.

“Oh, yes,” said BX-22. “Well, Dr. Renfro called it a rendering machine. We are able to break down proteins into their base elements and use them for nourishment in the bacta tank. For Dr. Capra, of course. We put the protein cubes inside, which we have kept in cold storage.” BX-22 pointed at a large metal door, and Bondi recognized it as a walk-in freezer.

“It stinks in here,” said Bondi.

“Does it? I suppose that’s true, based on the chemicals I can detect in the air. I don’t have olfactory sensors in the same way as you do, of course…”

“What were the ‘exceptions’ you mentioned earlier?” asked Bondi.

“Oh, yes,” said BX-22, tentatively. “Well, you see, the food supply ran out. Not the protein cubes we used for Dr. Capra – I was able to regulate those well before the rest of the food. But the maintenance crew and officers, they ate all their rations rather irresponsibly…”

“What maintenance crew? Were there people stationed here? Is that why there are living quarters above?”

“Yes,” said BX-22. “A small crew. Three mechanics, a computational engineer to maintain the battledroid’s A.I., and two officers who reported directly to Count Dooku. They were left here to maintain Anvil Station, and await further orders. But those orders never came. They intended to leave the base after months of no contact, but I thought that would run counter to my orders to keep Dr. Capra alive. I had the droids destroy their shuttle. They made it look like a malfunction, per my instructions. The men tried to look for a bug in the system, but of course there was none…”

“But they did get off away from the base eventually,” said Bondi. “We didn’t find any indication of the crew above.”

“Well, I made sure to clean up after they were gone.”

“So they did leave?” asked Bondi, moving to the chest in the corner. He lifted the lid, and found neatly folded clothing. A mixture of jumpsuits and more formal military wear. He picked up a jumpsuit and noticed a hole in the chest, scorched on the edges from blaster fire, and stained with blood. Bondi clenched his jaw, dropping the lid of the chest.

‘Not exactly,” said BX-22. “Like I said, their food ran out. They did not ration their supplies in the most efficient manner, despite my recommendations. I believe they thought that more supplies would be forthcoming, perhaps via the Anvil-Hammer systems, but the hyperlane stopped being used, so there was nothing to catch.”

Bondi listened, walking quickly to the large freezer door.

 “Eventually, they had the idea to take from Dr. Capra’s supplies. I could not allow that, for obvious reasons. I had rationed his supplies to last for years, providing the minimum to keep the vitals active and the all-important brain functions working. They were able to take some, cutting off months from my calculations. If I had allowed it to continue, I would have betrayed my mandate. Fortunately, what they took I replaced easily, thanks to Dr. Renfro’s device, and my own adaptations to it.”

“Replaced with what?” asked Bondi, grabbing the handle of the freezer door and pulling it open.

“Replaced with the men themselves,” said BX-22.

Bondi looked into the freezer. The missing crew of the frigate Bold Born lay inside. They were stacked up like sacks of grain, frozen, waiting to be rendered.

Bondi slammed the door and spun towards BX-22, his blaster raised in rage. BX-22 reeled backwards, raising his clawed hands. “I was obeying orders,” said the lifeless droid. “And I must say, I am very good at my job.”

The lights in the room dimmed, and the rhythmic beating of the power source, which Bondi had tuned out, grew louder and faster, until it was a staccato pulse, almost unbearable to listen to.

“What’s happening!” shouted Bondi.

“Anvil Station and the Hammer have become interactive,” said BX-22. “Perhaps your friends have arrived.”