The exhibition complex in the pre-port district 4768 was as noisy as usual. The weekly auction of used equipment, which always attracted many buyers and simple onlookers hoping to see if any "rare item" would appear for bidding today, was about to begin. The social status and income level of the bidders played no role, as the lots presented varied in price over a very wide range. Here, one could find: an old hyperdrive for a couple of hundred credits, and the latest custom-made private yacht for exorbitant sums. Therefore, the hall, designed for several thousand visitors, was overcrowded.
For the overpopulated Coruscant, such crowds of sentient beings were commonplace, unlike the desert Tatooine. Many disliked it, but no one was in a hurry to leave the "heart of the Republic." It was here that the Senate convened, and almost all the corporations known in the galaxy conducted their largest deals. A wide scope for business, both legal and shadow.
A polished dark-red anthropomorphic droid slowly pushed through the crowd of sentient beings towards the entrance of the exhibition pavilion. He moved stiffly, carefully limiting the freedom of his joints and servos, so as to imitate the protocol droids common in society, whose construction often skimped on decent limbs. He was sincerely grateful to his creator for taking care of the appropriate parts in his own body. As he was grateful to him for the pseudo-emotions introduced during programming, and which had developed over time to almost human levels. Thanks to them, he could confidently state that he liked this planet.
So many sentient beings around, crowds of aliens of various races, pushing each other, hurrying somewhere and absolutely not noticing that an assassin droid is walking among them. And yet, now he could discreetly eliminate any of them and disappear without a trace. After all, he was and remains the best in his field. And, judging by the records he found on the HoloNet, his high self-esteem is fully justified. Modern assassin droids lacked creativity of thought. And their construction is very… strange. How can one conduct secret operations with such a thing? How to gain the trust of the target? Anyone can just break into a house and fire a couple of blaster shots, a damaged piece of metal with a program level like an accounting calculator. But this red droid acted differently. He was always maximally effective and left no traces… or rather, almost always. The legendary HK-47, whose existence few knew even during the Old Republic, even though he eliminated so many sentient beings by order of his creator – Darth Revan.
Did he like to kill? Undoubtedly. That's how he was created. Contempt for organics, cruelty, and cynicism formed the basis of his personality's code. But at the same time, he was absolutely devoted to his master and was ready to carry out any order without question.
And now he confidently walked towards the pavilion to carry out the task assigned to him, namely – to get the prototype YT-1930/FLP for his master. And with such a cruel restriction – to kill no one…
Well, the master's order is law for a droid.
The updated sensory complex installed on Tatooine worked perfectly, providing HK with a lot of data about the surroundings, including the number of guards and security systems. Almost 60% of his processor's computational power was allocated to processing incoming information and developing a plan.
So, there were several entrances to the pavilion where the auction was to take place. The assassin quickly figured out that six different passages were intended for ordinary gawkers who came just to look. These doors were not guarded. And only two entrances were prepared for the auction participants. And these were under strict control. Judging by the number of sentient beings at the guard posts, as well as near the checkpoints, the passage to the left was for ordinary buyers, and the one to the right was for so-called "important persons."
HK saw no point in such a division, since the hall where the auction was held was still common. But, apparently, for rich organics, the very fact of having a separate entrance was important, as a recognition of their status.
There was less than an hour left before the auction began, and HK still needed to inspect the potential purchase so that the Master would not be disappointed. And the long queue at the entrance for "common mortals" did not please him. At the same time, he noted that to enter the hall, one needed to present a registration card of participation.
The same system worked for the VIP entrance, except for the queue.
Since the assassin droid disliked wasting time unnecessarily, reasonably considering it inefficient, he decided to use the VIP entrance.
While one part of his computational core was coming up with a suitable "legend" for the guards, rummaging through the HoloNet via remote connection, another was refining the plan. Fortunately, on Coruscant, the wireless network covered every corner of the planet, and there were no problems with obtaining information. HK himself, meanwhile, headed towards one of the registrars on duty a little to the side.
"Greetings: I wish health to the esteemed representatives of the commission for free trade and auctions of the most beautiful Coruscant!" HK began in a syrupy tone, approaching a tired man of the Togruta race.
Throwing an exhausted glance at the droid, he sighed and dropped his head into his hands.
"Another protocol droid," he grumbled. "What, do they program you all to speak as if you exclusively perform at social events or work as prompters in the opera?"
The droid instantly registered the man's mood and adjusted his behavior, assessing the effectiveness of the chosen model. Although combat algorithms were put on alert, just in case. What if he had to quickly neutralize this bag of meat?
"Uncomprehending: I apologize, esteemed sir, but I do not understand what you dislike about my speech?"
"Use your brain, tin can," the registrar snorted.
"Remark: Unfortunately, my computational core is physically incapable of spreading out over the same area as the contents of an organic's skull."
If HK could smile, the stars themselves would have shuddered from his grin at that moment.
"Get lost," the Togruta waved him away. "You won't understand anyway. Better tell me, what did you want? Did the master send you to the auction?"
"Pleased: You are terribly perceptive! Everything is exactly so! I am N4-K7, secretary of the Ka-Orossi family. My esteemed master, the most luminous prince of the second ruling house of Silkura-4, Oswin Tr'kaali Falim of Koru Tatari Ka-Orossi, wishes to participate in the auction. However, due to high занятости, because of an invitation to speak in the Senate, he cannot personally attend the auction."
This royal personage was indeed on Coruscant at the moment and had been invited to the Senate. HK knew this for sure, thanks to the Galactic Senate's news channel – the second most rated on the planet… if counting from the end of the list. So, very few watched this channel, but the information was reliable.
"So, another one from the senators…" the man mumbled, typing something on the terminal. "Repeat the name, droid."
"Devotedly: The most luminous prince of the second ruling house of Silkura-4, Oswin Tr'kaali Falim of Koru Tatari Ka-Orossi."
"Is that all his name?" the Togruta grimaced.
"Loftily: Exactly so, and no other way! The traditions of Silkura-4 require respectful address to any member of one of the three ruling families, including the full title."
"May they live well…" the registrar grumbled discontentedly. "Hutt kings from the sticks."
"Explanation: I assure you, my master has no relation to the Hutts."
The man irritably waved his hand, continuing to work with the terminal.
"I will need a Republic citizen identifier or trade clearance in Coruscant space, if your planet is not part of the Republic," the Togruta squinted, reading the fine print on the holodisplay. "So, there should be no problems with this. According to this data, the Silkura system has had its representative in the Senate for three thousand years."
"Enthusiastically: All correct. Our planet…"
"Be quiet, droid. Where is the identifier?"
HK leaned slightly towards the registrar's counter and lowered the volume of his vocoder.
"My master would not want his identifier to be used at the auction, so he gave me this," the droid handed the Togruta an infochip with a so-called "intermediary."
This is an identifier of a non-existent person, often used by black market traders when making deals. Bank accounts opened for this fictitious person are completely legal and actually exist. However, tracing the owner becomes much more difficult.
The Hutt Cartel was so kind when making the deal with Revan that they even bothered to equip the former Sith with a couple of such crystals.
"This is illegal," the registrar frowned.
"My master is willing to generously compensate for the inconvenience," HK handed over a de-identified credit chip.
Quickly scanning it, the Togruta smiled slightly.
"Apparently, your master knows how to do business in the core worlds after all," he chuckled approvingly.
Just a minute later, he handed the droid a small plastic card with an infochip embedded in it.
"This is a personal auction guest identifier. It will be used for bidding, and will also be needed for payment and receiving your winnings," the registrar listlessly stated the routine information. "Also, I remind you that the lot must be paid for within one planetary day. Otherwise, I will transfer information about your master to the justice corps."
"Understood, esteemed Mr. Registrar," HK bowed.
The auction budget just became 5,000 credits less. However, the droid considered this expense acceptable. Moreover, he was already calculating ways to reduce costs.
The auction security was at a high level, as evidenced by the weapon detectors at each entrance. Approaching them, HK was already calculating behavioral models in case the detectors could still detect a couple of blasters and three thermal detonators hidden in shielded compartments under the armor on his belt and thighs.
There was no queue at the VIP entrance, so the droid, without any delay, approached the checkpoint, presented the card with the participant's ID, and passed through the scanner. Immediately, an alarming beep sounded from the detector, and the guards raised their rifles, aiming them at the iron killer.
"What is it, Urto?" asked a tall human man in the armor of a private security company, addressing the scanner operator.
"Some kind of fuzz," the latter replied. "Some unclear readings. It seems not a weapon… but something similar. And the scanner classified this anomaly as a potentially prohibited object."
HK-47 quickly calculated the situation and developed a plan of action based on organic psychology.
"Indignantly: Weapons?!" the droid exclaimed. "How could you think such a thing?! My circuits are simply melting from indignation! My master is the Most Luminous Prince of the second ruling house of Silkura-4, Oswin Tr'kaali Falim of Koru Tatari Ka-Orossi! An influential and respected citizen of the Republic! How dare you insult him with such distrust! I recommend that he file an official protest… no, a complaint! Definitely, a complaint to the Senate. Fortunately, he is there right now."
Such a tirade made the guards tense up and exchange glances. Problems with the Senate were not needed by anyone. Such situations arose all the time. Rich senators often sent their bodyguard droids instead of themselves, which they had illegally modified and, at the same time, forgot to equip them with the appropriate documents or include them in the exception lists of the unified security system database.
"This is all we needed," the senior among the armed men grumbled. "Urto, are you sure about the readings?"
The hint in the guard's voice was so obvious that the operator even hesitated for a moment.
"Uh… yes… I mean, no," he stammered, running through the detector controls. "It's quite possible that it's just military-model servos or a non-standard computational unit."
"So, nothing dangerous?"
"Well… no… probably."
"That's good," the senior concluded. "On behalf of the private security company 'Dark Shine,' I apologize to your master. You may proceed."
HK flashed his blood-red optical sensors and took his participant card from the guard's hands, calculating, just in case, how he would break this bag of meat's spine… in three places.
"Irritated farewell: All the best," the droid said as sarcastically as possible.
Having finally broken through to the exhibition complex territory, HK consulted the holographic map to find the pavilion where small ships were displayed. All lots, except for large starships and massive construction equipment, could be inspected at special exhibition areas located around the main building where the auction would take place before the auction. The pavilion, or rather the hangar, was found quickly, as it was visible from afar.
Passing by neat rows of speeders and air cars, the droid lingered slightly near the area with deactivated security droids. However, after a brief inspection, he only shook his head and moved on. His master's words that this world had almost stopped developing were gradually being confirmed.
The path to the hangar took a full five minutes, further reducing the time HK could dedicate to inspecting the prototype before the auction. And there, in a row of five YT-1300 type transporters, appeared the "winged" silhouette of a YT-1930, painted in white and red colors. The cargo ramp was lowered, inviting potential buyers to inspect the ship.
Entering, HK noted that the armor, at least in the aft section, was reinforced with powerful durasteel plates. Although this should negatively affect the ship's weight, it could presumably withstand a blow quite well.
The right cargo hold, through which the droid entered, was empty, but with traces of recent and not entirely careful dismantling of equipment. Apparently, the engineers had taken additional sensors and computational units from their "flying laboratory."
The first stop was the engineering compartment with a pair of hyperdrives, installed at an acceptable distance from each other and placed in protective boxes. This reduced the risk of the hyperdrive failing in case, for example, an asteroid fragment hit the ship or it collided with some space object.
HK inspected the first-class hyperdrive with interest, noting that the model was not serial but manually modified, apparently by the manufacturer's technical team. The backup engine turned out to be tenth class, which was quite acceptable. Also, the droid noticed that the engine layout differed from the serial model of the YT-1930. The prototype had not 4 sublight engines, but 6, combined into a single array in the central part of the stern.
But these were not all the surprises. Directly from the engineering compartment, there was a passage to the left cargo hold, which had been converted into an additional technical room. Here, two powerful generators were located, which was excessive for such a small ship, but quite normal for a prototype on which various equipment with a wide range of energy consumption was tested. What was not dismantled was the deflector shield, albeit a low-power one.
Just as HK noted that the modified power supply system was perfectly suited for installing powerful military-grade weapons on the ship, he stumbled upon a shaft connecting the upper and lower defensive turrets. They were controlled by two gunners, but if necessary, fire could also be conducted remotely from the pilot's cabin, although not as effectively due to microsecond delays in data transmission and the need to be distracted from piloting.
The living quarters were somewhat disappointing. It was evident that they had tried to tidy them up before putting them up for auction, but had not succeeded very well. And panels falling from the ceiling clearly testified to this. However, if one did not nitpick about the appearance, the living conditions were quite acceptable. There was even a small dining room and a med bay. The droid desperately lacked a workshop and an armory, but he decided that the Master would quickly fix this oversight.
The overall condition of the ship could be assessed as satisfactory. Yes, many systems were worn out, and diagnostics did not respond, but all this could be easily repaired or replaced. Part of the main deck needed to be rebuilt, but these were minor issues.
All that remained was to inspect the cockpit when HK almost collided with a group of sentient beings who, apparently, were also aiming to acquire this ship. A Quarren and a couple of his bodyguard droids seemed not to expect to meet competitors on board. The unpleasant-looking alien, with tentacles hanging around his mouth, glared irritably at HK.
"Get lost, droid! I've already picked out this ship for myself," he gurgled in his native language, not suspecting that he was facing the best assassin in the galaxy.
Revan's creation had to run his master's order through his processor several times to prevent the activation of the "eliminate annoying bag of meat" protocol.
"Indignantly: I beg your pardon, but this will be decided at the auction!" the droid retorted. "My master is also interested in this ship."
"We'll see if your master has enough money," the Quarren snorted and moved towards the exit.
The droids followed him, not taking their sensors off HK.
"Mockingly: Oh, yes, you foolish bag of meat. We will definitely see about that."
The plan to "buy" the freighter with minimal cost had just been finalized.
Ten minutes later, HK had already taken his seat among the auction participants.
"Ladies and gentlemen, and esteemed sentient beings without gender affiliation!" the auctioneer's voice boomed in the main pavilion of the exhibition complex. "Welcome to our auction! My name is Darius Nar, and I am the very person who will be conducting today's bidding!"
The assassin droid paid little attention to the routine speech of the young man on the podium, who was making every effort to attract attention. He allocated only 3% of his processor power to processing this empty chatter of the bag of meat, deciding to focus on finding his potential "victim."
The host droned on for a full ten minutes, which irritated even the most patient guests. But he achieved his goal, he definitely attracted attention.
The bidding began!
To warm up, they started with small equipment at a low initial cost, so HK only registered the completed deals. What if the Master decides to buy a new power converter for the sublight engines? And the caring droid will immediately tell him that the desired converter was purchased by the Sulustian Pin Kat'ann, he lives at such-and-such address and will gladly give up his purchase if he is "nicely" asked. After all, when a polite droid asks a sentient being to lend him something, who can refuse? Yes, they cannot utter a word, but they nod so energetically! It's still difficult to speak with a blaster barrel in your mouth… but these are trifles.
Like most of those present, HK was waiting for the bidding for the main lots – the ships. At the same time, his optical sensors were watching the Quarren he met on the prototype. The behavior of his bodyguard droids so far corresponded to the standard "Guardian-3" algorithm, already studied by the iron killer. Thanks to the HoloNet with its free "introductory" access!
The native of Dak planet had not yet made a single bid. This meant he was waiting for the prototype, as he had promised HK. This suited the droid perfectly.
Meanwhile, the first starships appeared among the lots. The models went in random order, without any sorting. So, a perfectly maintained pleasure yacht went immediately after an ancient passenger transport. And right after it, a HWK series freighter, not in the best condition.
Finally, a hologram of the YT-1930 appeared above the podium, colorfully described by the host as almost the pinnacle of scientific and technical progress, for which HK was ready to skin him on the spot. It was still missing for someone to outbid and ruin the whole plan.
"So, esteemed guests! The starting price is 55,000 credits! I remind you that this is a unique ship that embodies the boldest design solutions!" the host gushed.
Someone from the front row risked agreeing to the proposed sum.
The Quarren immediately reacted, raising the price to 60,000.
HK, flashing his optical sensors, added another three thousand.
An unknown Twi'lek raised the price by another 2 thousand.
The droid did not lag behind.
Gradually, the sum kept growing. The other participants dropped out at 90 thousand, leaving the droid and the Quarren to sort things out between themselves.
"95,000!" the native of Dak planet shouted.
"Confidently: Ninety-seven!" the droid immediately interjected.
"Ninety-seven thousand credits from a representative of the ruling house of Silkura-4!" the host confirmed the bid.
"One hundred thousand!" the Quarren roared. "Go to a bantha's ass, tin can!"
"Indignantly: How dare you?! One hundred and two thousand!"
"One hundred and five! Rusty overgrown incinerator!"
"Angrily: One hundred and seven! Gut-eating bag of meat!"
"What?! What did you say, droid?!"
"Confidently: What I heard, gut-eater!"
"Ah, you engineer-imbecile's Hutt mistake!"
"So, one hundred and seven thousand, first time!" the host began the count imperturbably.
"Wait, may the spine-spitters devour you! One hundred and ten thousand!" the Quarren immediately pulled himself together. "Well, how about that, iron lump? Enough credits?"
"Mockingly: Of course, you product of the sinful love of a squid and an amphibian," HK made a sound resembling laughter. "Persistently: One hundred and thirteen thousand! Warning: You may need to sell your tentacles to outbid. If I'm not mistaken, in restaurants on some planets, they are considered a delicacy."
"Ah, you bastard rattle!" the Quarren seethed. "I'll tear you to pieces! And I'll let your master's guts out!"
"One hundred and thirteen thousand, first time!"
"Wait! One hundred and fifteen thousand!"
"Imperturbably: One hundred and sixteen thousand."
"That's it! I've had enough! One hundred and fifty thousand!"
The hall exhaled in astonishment. The sum exceeded the cost of a new YT-1930 ship, even with additional equipment installed.
HK perfectly understood that further participation in the bidding was pointless, as he did not need this ship for such money. And his Master even less so. However, everything was going according to plan.
"Regretfully: I am forced to withdraw," the droid said with sorrow.
"Gotcha!?" the Quarren shouted joyfully, twitching his tentacles. "No one can outbid Tissex Dau!"
HK barely restrained himself from slapping his metal palm across his faceplate. This foolish bag of meat considered himself the winner, having paid three times the estimated value.
Triumphantly raising his hands, the tentacle-faced alien moved towards the exit to make the payment and receive the bill of sale and the package of documents for the starship. His guards followed him, completely unaware that their master's rival had disappeared from the hall just a few moments earlier.
The best assassin droid in the galaxy kept his "target" in sight. Tissex Dau, accompanied by a pair of mechanical guards, quickly reached the payment point and, with a displeased look, handed over a credit chip. A pretty Twi'lek, working as a cashier, accepted the payment with a smile and gave the client a datadisk to receive all necessary documents and confirmation of ownership of the ship.
This was what HK had been waiting for, having previously studied some nuances of local auctions. The disk was de-identified, being essentially a receipt of payment, merely confirming that its presenter had deposited the required amount into the seller's account. An oversight on the part of the organizers, posing a potential danger to buyers. After all, the datadisk could be stolen…
However, this was not in his spirit.
One could only receive their purchase after the auction ended, which meant Tissex Dau would have to proceed to the waiting room. And, thanks to the rather substantial sum of credits he had brought to the organizers, he would be allocated separate apartments.
The HK's calculation paid off, and the Quarren soon sipped the popular "Calamari Junko" liqueur from his homeworld, celebrating his purchase or drowning the bitterness of lost credits. Security droids took their positions outside, by the doors, ready to repel any threat to their master.
The "Guardian-3" security algorithms were a rather cheap solution to create the illusion of security. At least, that's what HK-47 thought. In his long "career," he had encountered various security systems, as well as various bodyguards, to quickly assess the advantages and disadvantages of any given security solution. And the Guardian-3 had many of them.
For example, they didn't react to a protocol droid that was slowly walking towards them down the corridor until the very last moment. Only when it extended something clutched in its left manipulator did they bother to scan it.
"Conciliatory: A gift for your master from mine," HK said in a syrupy voice, handing the activated thermal detonator to the guards.
"Threat!!! Threat!!!" the pair of droids howled, falling into a momentary stupor as their program searched for solutions to the developing situation.
And that was just enough time for the assassin to sever one droid's head with two short, precise movements of his vibroknife and pierce the processor of the second.
"Disappointed: Is that all?"
Shaking his head, HK deactivated the grenade and extended his manipulator to the door panel.
The excellent soundproofing of the VIP apartments played a cruel trick on the Quarren currently occupying them. He never heard the exclamations of danger that his guards had repeatedly uttered.
And when the door opened, he only lazily turned his head to see who had dared to disturb him. For a few moments, he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. The head of one of his security droids stared at him with extinguished optical sensors, while the body below was an unusual reddish color. Blinking several times, he realized that it was the red droid holding the severed head of his bodyguard in one hand, using it as a mask.
"Mockingly: Master, you have a guest," HK said, tossing the head of the defeated guard at his feet. "Did I not interfere?"
"What the..."
The Quarren didn't have time to finish, as the assassin droid kicked the bodyguard's head towards the tentacle-faced creature, forcing him to duck sharply.
"Security!" the native of the planet Dak yelled.
"Strictly: Don't strain yourself, bag of meat. Surveillance on the entire floor is currently undergoing unscheduled diagnostics," HK-47 informed him, dragging the deactivated guards' bodies inside the apartment.
In despair, the Quarren reached for the blaster that had been carelessly left on a nearby table, but HK was faster. Snatching the blaster, the droid shot the auction winner's hand.
"Threateningly: Do you really not want to live, bag of meat?"
"What do you want?" Tissix groaned in response.
"Mockingly: A mere trifle – the ship you bought," the droid declared, fiddling with the blaster.
"Take it!" the tentacle-faced creature agreed instantly.
"Disappointed: No, no, no. This won't do!" HK shook his head. "And when am I supposed to use the threat of not giving you the antidote to the deadly toxin you drank with the liqueur?"
"What?!" the Quarren stared at the empty glass with a panicked look.
"Mockingly: You fell for it!" the droid chuckled.
"Ah, you..."
"Seriously: Or, not?"
Tissix shifted his worried gaze from the glass to the droid and back.
HK-47 shook his head again.
"Disappointed: You're so boring. Not like the Jedi," the assassin droid said. "Harshly: Datapad, quickly."
With trembling hands, the Quarren took the disk from his pocket and handed it to his potential killer, inwardly begging all the gods to spare his life.
"Happily: Excellent! My Master will be very pleased."
"You got what you wanted," Tissix stammered, "Now, will you leave?"
"Sadly: I would gladly leave, but you would immediately run to the Justice Corps. And I still need to register the ship and move it to a safe place."
"Don't kill me! Please! I beg you!"
"With irritation: I am a droid!" HK-47 exclaimed. "I don't care about pleas and humiliation!"
"Please!" the Quarren implored.
"Thoughtfully: On the other hand, Master ordered me not to kill anyone."
"Please!" Tissix repeated with hope.
"Happily: I know! I know the perfect solution!"
The droid's tone made the Quarren uneasy.
"Question: How do you feel about a coma? You don't have to answer! We don't have time for debates anyway! I still have so much to do... And a couple more bags of meat deserve my visit. I wouldn't want to disappoint them."