Kuat’s Game: Check…….please

“I am so sorry. I believed that you would be able to retrieve what your brother lost. It is not your fault, Vance. You had no idea of what you were caught in the middle of, what you are still involved in. In some way, you would have been lucky to perish. The very notion of you resurrecting this junk for your operation is puzzling to me. Now, you rely on these antiques to ensure your survival.” Kuat turned to Aggie and asked what his specifications were. Aggie did not answer. Instead, he opened his battered torso, revealing enhanced servos and a secondary heuristic / mimetic processor nestled among more standard components.

Aggie then spoke. “Sir, we may seem but mere antiques to you, and in many respects we are. However, not one droid assigned to this ship is what it appears with the exception of the medical units. They were just recently brought aboard. They are completely barren of enhancements.”

Kuat appeared to be contemplating scenarios in his mind. Again he spoke, this time to our newly appropriated MD-5 unit. “What would it take to repair his injuries?”

The medic faced Kuat, buzzing through his damaged vocoder. “Honestly sir, I do not posses that information due to the atypical nature of his injuries.” MD-5 keyed a switch on a nearby scanner, projecting a hologram above Vance’s body. It showed in vivid detail exactly what tissues and nerves were damaged, and where. “Frankly, I am puzzled that his body lives, even with our equipment sustaining him. Though my databanks hold an enormous amount of information, I am not aware of another case where injuries this severe have allowed the patient to live. We are currently attempting to locate a suitable cryo-stasis pod so that we may have the time to find an answer, and possibly replace the affected organs, or even repair the spinal injuries.”

“A cryo-stasis pod? They are not easy to find, especially since they were decommissioned by the Republic during the war for faulty monitoring equipment. They were largely replaced by the stasis beds. Unfortunately, they would not be able to preserve all functions.” Kuat stared at the floor. “I will attempt to find one myself.”

At that point, I spoke through the internal comms. “Why would you do that for Vance? You mock an attempt to help him, though you still place audio and holo-espionage equipment in his ship?” Kuat froze, clearly processing the new data presented before him.

“Ah, you must be SARA.” Kuat visibly calmed. “It is comforting to know that you are unharmed. As you may know, my line of business is not without its risks. Information is vital to everything. The first with knowledge, when correctly applied, is the first to survive; even prosper from the wisdom gained.” Kuat smiled, possibly believing his subterfuge was successful.

My reply was vocalized with stresses that I have associated with the emotion of anger. “The opinion you present may comfort a fool Kuat, not I. Such data is logical that you would have motive to prosper financially from information gathered within this vessel. This ship, my systems are unique in nearly every manner. Knowledge of this ship’s operation being transferred to new designs would make me and this vessel obsolete. That alone, would ruin Night Runners. I will not allow this!” I paused for an emotional response. “If you have no further purpose here, then it is time for you to leave. If it is necessary, you will be escorted out.”

Kuat straightened, bowing while visually searching for the ship’s holocams. “It is a pity. Imagine a Star Destroyer with your capabilities. I would be more than gracious enough to obtain the necessary equipment, or have my research and development team design new equipment to save Vance. I would also ensure that you and your operation remain, as you say, unique. As a reminder, I will leave a repair statement with your receptionist upon my departure. Conscious of your actions or not, it will serve as a reminder of what damage THIS COMPANY has done in its quest to be an independent operator.”

With that Kuat faced Vance and placed a hand on his forehead before turning to leave. He then stormed past Aggie towards the docking level, collecting his surveillance bugs as he left the ship. After approximately five standard minutes, Bajal Horn commed. The stress in his voice indicated nervousness. From his report, Kuat left a billing statement for damage recovery claiming just below two point one trillion credits. Bajal claimed that Night Runners had not even earned that amount in its entire existence. He was correct. The financial records in my databanks indicated a gross income of only one point eight trillion credits throughout the company’s six year life.

“What will we do? We can’t possibly pay that!” Bajal exclaimed, seemingly beyond the stress point of a human his age.

“We will do what we must.” I doubted that would calm him, but encouragement did not seem to be either the logical or the proper strategy at the time either.

Bajal was sweating profusely now. “With his political power, and nearly endless credits, we’re through no matter how we go about this. He might as well be the Empire; he could crush us with a whim.”

“Possibly.” If I had the ability to smile, I would have. “However, he has a wonderful disposition of constantly underestimating this company, and its antiques…”

Advertisement