Asteroid HKX-4489.
Gorgon System.
Mandalorian Sector.
The "Dawn Eagle" cut through space like an scarlet star, gracefully maneuvering between small asteroids and advancing towards its target.
Sitting in the pilot's seat, the assassin droid masterfully controlled the freighter's flight, simultaneously processing the plan for the upcoming operation with its electronic brain. Its circuits almost sparked with anticipation. After all, this time the Master had set the droid the goal of "Rescuing hostages at any cost." The assassin protocols immediately emphasized the second part of the order, giving the mechanical maniac full authority to turn all inhabitants of the enemy outpost into bloody dust.
"Hostages," one of the computational blocks responsible for loyalty and obedience protocols reminded.
"Acceptable losses?" the assassin protocols proposed their solution.
"Exclusion. Master's order," the loyalty protocol rejected the request.
"Elimination of the enemy?"
"By any means."
Just as agreement, combined with bloodthirsty anticipation, settled in HK's computational core, Tyra Nomad entered the cockpit.
"Are we close?" the Mandalorian asked, casting a quick glance at the navigation panel.
"Indifferent confirmation: Yes. We are about ten minutes' flight from the target coordinates," the droid nodded in agreement.
A particularly large asteroid appeared beyond the transparisteel window, and HK set course for it.
"Darasuum Akaan," Tyra said, mesmerized, carefully examining the approaching rock.
"Surprised comment: The approximate translation of the spoken phrase into Galactic Basic sounds like 'Eternal War.' Request for clarification: What is the meaning of these words? Name, class of structure, purpose?"
"It's the name of an asteroid base in this system. It dates back to the Mandalorian Wars. My mentors told me about this place. According to records from those years, 'Eternal War' was one of the few hidden bases that escaped destruction during the 'Butcher's' advance."
"With nostalgia: The Master was extremely effective in his actions," the droid said dreamily.
"Were you functioning then?" Tyra asked calmly, already somewhat accustomed to the fact that she personally knew two participants in the Mandalorian Wars, both of whom were figures in Mandalorian legends.
"With regret: I did not witness the Siege of Mandalore. The Master completed my creation a little later, closer to the end of the war. So many bags of meat escaped deactivation," HK replied sadly. "Enthusiastically: Later, I compensated for my inaction during this period by carrying out the Master's orders with all zeal."
"I don't doubt it," Nomad muttered almost inaudibly.
Tyra had no doubt about the madness of the droid sitting in the pilot's seat. However, its effectiveness could not be denied either. Nomad recalled its spectacular appearance in the Throne Room, right after the Jedi assassin who had targeted the Duchess. The image of the assassin droid sliding on one knee, firing charge after charge with deadly accuracy from two blasters, would surely hold a place of honor among the Mandalorian's memories of the best battles of her life.
But along with the mesmerizing image of the deadly droid, another one surfaced in her memory.
Risa Farr.
Tyra frowned involuntarily and twitched the index finger of her right hand slightly, as if selecting a free trigger guard for her blaster.
One of the girls in Duchess Satine's retinue turned out to be far from a simple Mandalorian from the ancient Farr clan. Perhaps the sudden appearance of a scarlet lightsaber in Risa's hands surprised not only Tyra, but everyone present in the hall, including the attackers.
Nomad could only rejoice at the sudden appearance of a strong ally, as Farr was clearly protecting Kryze. However, one detail made Tyra reconsider the situation and give Risa Farr a completely different characteristic – an enemy.
It was all about the lightsaber. The blue-skinned Chiss girl had already seen this blade. The shape of the hilt and the intricate engraving on it were firmly etched in Tyra's memory. It was this blade that had ended the life of her first mentor. Or rather, not exactly a mentor, but a simple Mandalorian who had saved her from starving to death and offered her shelter.
The blue-skinned warrior would never forget that day. The day she lost her second family, having barely found it.
At that time, the death of her mother from the claws and fangs of some Dxun beast was still fresh in her memory. Anude'Sora'Mitt paid dearly for her life, taking two predators with her. By her actions, she saved her daughter's life, but at the same time left the girl a complete orphan.
Dying in her daughter's arms, Sora asked Tyra to be strong. The exile from the Mitt family believed that her child would survive and would take everything that was rightfully hers. She would become great. Such was her destiny. For so had predicted the girl's long-lost father. And Sora believed the words of that sorcerer.
A week had passed since that fateful day. Supplies had long since run out, and the young Aru'Tir'Anude had almost no strength left. The young Chiss, barely having reached her second decade of life, although she had undergone initial training at the Dominion's military academy, found herself alone with the wild nature of Dxun. However, luck, fate, or perhaps the will of spirits or gods, was clearly on the side of the blue-skinned girl with scarlet hair. Several times she encountered animals similar to those that had killed her mother, but each time the beasts turned and left as soon as they met the frightened girl's gaze.
And then, during another attempt to catch a small animal for lunch, a thoroughly exhausted Tyra herself fell into someone's snare. A loop of strong polymer cable, hidden under fallen leaves, tightened around the girl's ankle. The subsequent tug on the captured leg sent Tyra flying, ending in a hard collision with a tree trunk. Only at the last moment did the Chiss manage to group herself somewhat and prepare for the impact, covering her head, which saved her life. However, she did not manage to remain conscious.
Unconscious, as she was later told, she remained for almost three days. Upon waking, she was extremely surprised by her surroundings.
Instead of a jungle or the lair of some beast that would have dragged the unconscious girl there, intending to feast on a still-living victim, there were walls of some building around her. An absolutely unfamiliar building with an interior belonging to some unknown culture. Her first impulse was to flee or, at the very least, prepare for battle. However, her emaciated body was categorically against such options, and Tyra, who had started to get up, collapsed back onto the bed. Pain shot through her head. Her hand, flying to her forehead, felt a soft bandage. Had someone bandaged her?
"Dralshy'a par ad'ika," a strange male voice sounded.
The girl with difficulty turned her head to find the source of the spoken words. They spoke in an unfamiliar language, but there was no threat in the voice.
Everything blurred before her eyes, but she managed to catch the silhouette of a humanoid amidst the hazy surroundings. It took considerable effort to slightly focus her gaze on the unfamiliar figure, but eventually Tyra was able to make out armor covering the entire body with a strange cloak the color of fallen leaves draped over it. The build was large, which, along with the deep voice heard earlier, indicated that she was facing a man. The stranger's face was not visible. The stranger wore a helmet with a T-shaped visor on his head.
"Where am I?" Tyra asked, her voice hoarse from a dry throat.
The man merely tilted his head slightly.
"Dar'kar'taylir joha," he said barely audibly and began pressing something on the cuff of his left arm.
Tyra wanted to ask what he was doing, but the stranger's voice interrupted her.
"Su cuy, ad'ika. Gar jorhaa'ir. Ni kelir hibirar."
Silence hung for a few seconds, broken only by the clicks of buttons and the beeping of the stranger's wrist computer.
Noticing Tyra's silence, the man looked up from his wrist and spoke again.
"Ni gai Marus Nomad. Tion gar gai?"
Seeing that the girl did not answer. The stranger pointed at himself.
"Marus Nomad," he said clearly, then pointed at the girl and tilted his head slightly.
The Chiss, despite her slightly fogged mind due to exhaustion, was able to understand what was required of her.
"Aru'Tir'Anude," she replied, placing her hand on her chest.
"Arue'ti Runude?" the stranger asked, clearly not hearing correctly.
"No," she shook her head and repeated her full name almost syllable by syllable, "Aru'Tir'Anude."
The man tried to repeat it, but only mumbled something indistinctly, then spread his palms in front of him and slowly brought them together, as if squeezing something. Then he pointed at himself again.
"Marus."
Again, his hand pointed at the girl.
So far, the stranger had not shown aggression and had not threatened Tyra in any way. Moreover, he seemed to have saved her and treated her wounds. The Chiss allowed herself to relax a little.
It took the girl a few seconds to understand what was required of her.
Her name! Too long and complicated for an alien! He wanted her to shorten it!
"Tyra," the girl said, giving a shorter, simpler name.
"Tyra," Marus nodded with satisfaction.
"Gar johaa'ir," Nomad said and shook his hand a few times, as if urging Tyra to do something or... approach?
"I don't understand," the Chiss shook her head.
The computer built into the stranger's wrist beeped.
"Gar johaa'ir, gar johaa'ir," Marus nodded, waving his hand at her again.
"Should I keep doing something? Talking?" Tyra guessed.
Nomad nodded and waved his hand again. The wristband beeped more and more actively with each spoken word.
"And what should I say? Anything?"
There was no answer.
Tyra sighed.
"I am Aru'Tir'Anude, daughter of Anude'Sora'Mitt... although, perhaps neither I nor she have the right to be called that anymore. We were... driven out."
And without knowing why, Tyra began to tell her story. How just one blood test had ruined everything. A drop of blood. Just one drop – and she and her mother were exiled from the Dominion and sentenced to death in absentia.
The girl talked and talked, not noticing that the device on Marus's arm had long since stopped beeping, and the stranger himself was listening attentively and nodding in response to one phrase or another.
"And now... I'm alone," Tyra finished, wiping her tear-streaked face.
"Foundling," a synthesized voice suddenly sounded, which could only belong to a droid.
The girl sat up and tried to understand where someone else could have appeared in the room. But there was no one there except the now not-so-unfamiliar man.
"I understand your pain, child. You are strong to have survived," the droid's voice said again.
"Who is speaking?" Tyra asked, trying to locate the source of the sound with her eyes.
"This is the translator," Marus replied.
In response to her surprised look, the man pointed to his wristband, from which the sound, as it turned out, was coming.
"This is the translator?"
"It used to be a droid. It broke," Marus shrugged.
It was... strange to reconcile the synthesized voice with the movements and behavior of her supposed savior.
"Ni jorkaa'i," the synthesized voice suddenly said again in an unfamiliar language.
Marus tapped his wristband with his palm a few times.
"It's glitching," the man explained when the device started working again.
The girl smiled in response and nodded.
"I speak. It translates," Marus pointed alternately to his helmet and then to his wristband, which seemed to have a module from a translator droid installed in it.
"Where am I? And how did I get here?" Tyra asked, finally glad that the dialogue was working.
For some reason, she relaxed completely, although the instincts ingrained by the military academy demanded that she be ready for battle. However, intuition told the girl that there was no threat. Only friends nearby.
This had happened to her before, and her premonitions had never failed.
"Saved. We. You."
"Thank you. You treated my wounds, didn't you?"
"Yes. You are in a hunting camp. Clan Nomad. You fell into our trap."
"You speak strangely," the girl was surprised by the strange broken phrases that the translator produced.
"It's all the di'kutla translator. It glitches. Only simple phrases," Marus explained.
"I see. And Nomad, the clan, is that something like a family?" Tyra clarified.
"It is a family," the man nodded. "Mandalorians live in clans. The clan is above all. Ibic cuyir te ara."
After the last phrase, Marus had to tap the translator a couple more times.
"Mandalorians?"
"Mando'ade," a tap on the translator, "Mandalorians. That is my people."
Tyra nodded, understanding the meaning of his words.
"And this is your world?"
"No. These are hunting grounds. A temporary camp. We'll be flying soon."
Hearing the last words, the girl suddenly became sad. She didn't want to be alone.
"You're leaving..." she said sadly.
"Duty," the Mandalorian replied briefly.
"I understand," the girl drooped completely, imagining herself alone with the predators again.
Marus seemed to notice her mood and moved a little closer.
"You can come with us," he offered.
These simple words were like a sip of cool water in the desert of hopelessness for the desperate girl.
"I can? With you?" Tyra was surprised and looked at Marus with hope.
He nodded in response.
The girl was genuinely happy about this turn of fate. Had all the hardships finally been left behind? Would a bright future await her, as her mother had promised?
Barely audibly, the girl laughed, and tears rolled down her cheeks again.
A little later, Tyra learned that Marus had hurried with his offer. That he himself was a "foundling" accepted into the clan only a year ago. That the head of their detachment disagreed with his opinion, which almost led to everything going downhill.
But all that was later.
For now, Tyra was happy...
"Persistent recommendation: Enough with the useless exchange of outdated information and memory reboots. We have reached our destination," the assassin droid's voice pulled the girl out of her memories.
The Mandalorian shifted her gaze to the navigation system display. This was precisely the point indicated in Bo-Katan's reports. According to her, one could approach "Darasuum Akaan" stealthily only from this vector.
"It seems the information was accurate. I don't see any defensive weapons or minefields in this sector," Tyra checked the instrument readings.
R2 rolled into the cockpit, buzzing with servos.
"Dwoo! Dee-dit!" the astromech reported no malfunctions in the slightly modified engines.
Even before leaving Mandalore, Revan had ordered everything possible to be done to reduce the "Eagle's" visibility before embarking on the rescue mission. The decision to mask the ion trail by changing the modulation of the plasma injectors in the engines came to R2's iron head after just a few milliseconds of processing the input. And, as it turned out, the decision was quite successful.
"Sarcastically: Well done, trash collector. Invaluable assistance in conducting the operation," HK said sarcastically.
"Dee-dee-dit!" the astromech protested.
"Irritated: You'd better have plotted a more accurate course, you initiative-taking bolt-cutter."
"D... Duuu," the mechanic somehow drooped, admitting that he had gotten carried away with the new task at the expense of routine duties.
Wishing to correct himself, the astromech drove up to the instrument panel and connected to the ship's systems.
A few seconds later, R2 displayed several marks on the navigation system display, indicating small asteroid debris that Tyra and HK had overlooked.
"What is this? They look like ordinary rocks... Ugh, by the Hutt's tail, good thing they disguised the mines well," the mercenary realized what R2 was pointing to.
"Condescendingly: Good, you've been promoted from trash collector to floor polisher."
The astromech erupted again with an angry trill in binary.
"Mockingly: Learn to hold a blaster first."
R2 opened one of the side compartments on his barrel-shaped body and pulled out a manipulator with a miniature blaster attached to it.
"Dit! Boo-dit!"
"Disgustedly: Don't forget to wash your vocoder after that, polisher," the assassin droid was unimpressed by the astromech's threat.
"Dee-dit!"
"Mockingly: Ooh, how sc-a-a-ary. The circuits will burn out and the lubricant will leak out."
"Alright, both of you, stop it!" Tyra barked.
"Defiantly: Or what?" HK turned his head slightly towards Nomad.
If he could smile, the Mandalorian was ready to swear that at that moment the droid would have been grinning maliciously.
"Or I'll tell Revan about your unprofessionalism," the mercenary stated emphatically.
HK flinched slightly, overcoming an immediate protocol reaction to the blatant threat. Then he removed one of his manipulators from the starship's controls and touched a compartment on his thigh where a blaster was secured.
"And my death will only be a vivid confirmation of your carelessness and incompetence as an agent of your Master," Tyra said calmly, noticing the droid's movement.
HK froze for a moment, then emitted a strange growling sound.
"Is your vocoder malfunctioning?" Nomad chuckled.
"Checking the translator for the language of the sand people of Tatooine."
"And what did that screech mean?" Tyra asked, assuming it wasn't flattering, as she reached for her blaster.
"A casual answer: An untranslatable expression. Something like the offspring of a brown slug that lives in bantha dung."
"Ah, you..." Tyra now grabbed her blaster.
"Feigned concern: Ooh, is someone not taking care of the Master's property? A unique piece of technology from the past, personally assembled by the Master?"
"Tsk," Nomad snorted and removed her hand from the blaster.
Meanwhile, R2, demonstrating his immense usefulness, plotted a course to approach the base, bypassing the activation zones of disguised mines.
"Let's move," Nomad waved her hand.
"Irritated: Don't give orders, meat bag."
"Deal with it, metal freak."
The Eagle began to move.
Approaching one of the reserve docking ports turned out to be quite simple. The base did not use active detection systems for camouflage purposes. It would be strange if a long-abandoned object suddenly started scanning its surroundings.
"R2, you have the complex schematics. Hack the network and send us anything you find useful," Tyra ordered.
The astromech, unlike its stubborn assassin counterpart, readily accepted the instructions.
"Well, what? Are we going in?"
"Confidently: I thought you'd be standing here for another day," HK replied brazenly.
"We go in quietly. If they raise the alarm, we won't see the hostages," the Mandalorian warned.
The assassin droid was forced to agree. The order to rescue the hostages was a priority.
"With forced obedience: We go in quietly, slug," the droid confirmed reluctantly, not forgetting to taunt the mercenary at the end of the phrase.
"Or'dinii," the Mandalorian hissed.
"Mocking reminder: I can translate Mando'a."
"I know," the mercenary said with a smirk, not turning around, as she exited the cockpit.
HK irritably twitched a manipulator, internally suppressing the kill protocol commands with his last strength and rejecting the colorful tactical analyses for a maximally brutal reprisal against the insolent representative of the meat bags. Only the analytical block produced something resembling an approving assessment... or, God forbid, respect?
Having finally put the personality core in order, HK followed Tyra.
Penetration of the base went without unnecessary noise or any problems. The local garrison clearly had a manpower shortage, and there weren't enough personnel for internal patrols.
R2 brilliantly handled the task of hacking the surveillance systems and had already sent Tyra and HK a map of the base. Among other things, the astromech also took control of the internal surveillance systems, providing cover for his partners.
Specifically for quiet infiltration, HK activated small noise-suppression modules built into the soles of his mechanical legs, which were made of a very dense, but porous and soft substance that took the shape of the sole. This made the droid's steps practically silent. Even Tyra appreciated the effect, humming thoughtfully and making a mental note to acquire something similar for herself.
Two silent shadows glided through the base corridors, unerringly advancing towards the place where the hostages were held. First, their safety had to be ensured in case of detection, and only then would they capture the control room.
In one of the rooms through which the mercenary and the droid passed, they found two Death Watch soldiers, likely returning to the barracks. Almost simultaneously, the droid and the Mandalorian attacked the unsuspecting guards. Tyra's vibroknife pierced the under-armor of one of the Mandalorians in the neck area with almost no resistance. HK ended the life of the second with an identical strike.
Holding the bodies to prevent them from falling and gently lowering them to the floor without unnecessary noise, the partners continued their advance. However, at the next turn, they had to stop.
The passage, which according to the map led directly to the local dungeons where the hostages were supposed to be held, was guarded by as many as five fighters. Whether the guard here had been reinforced, or one of the sentries had simply come to chat with his comrades during patrol, it didn't matter. The fact remained unchanged. Five armed Mandalorians stood in their way, and judging by the snippets of conversation, they weren't planning to disperse anytime soon.
"Damn loafers," Tyra hissed.
HK nodded, fully agreeing with the mercenary's opinion.
"What do we do?"
"Situation assessment: We can't wait. Time for the operation is limited."
"And they'll discover the system hack soon."
"Proposal: Surprise attack. According to preliminary assessment, I can eliminate three before they react," HK offered his assessment.
"Hmm, I can definitely handle two. Shall we?" Tyra agreed with the plan.
"Quick request: Wait."
The assassin droid quickly returned to the bodies of the recently killed Mandalorians and removed the helmet from one of them.
"What the Hutt?" Tyra whispered in surprise.
"Explanation: The element of surprise."
"As you say, psycho. Ready?"
"Confirmation: Ready."
"Let's go!"
The mercenary and the assassin droid emerged from around the corner simultaneously and were almost immediately spotted by the guards. HK covered his faceplate with the helmet, holding it clamped between his blasters.
The guards, noticing the two figures confidently emerging into the corridor, mistook them for another patrol in the first second. After all, the helmets were the first thing that caught the eye.
"What the?!" one of the sentries shouted, noticing in the dim corridor light that one of the "patrolmen" was actually a droid, and the helmet wasn't on its head at all!
But at that moment, the helmet was already flying straight at his head, and plasma charges were already rushing behind it. Three guards were killed before they even realized what was happening. The other two were more agile and managed to get out of the line of fire, avoiding the first shots. However, this did not prolong their lives for long. Being an experienced shooter, Tyra unerringly guessed the direction the target would shift and finished off the guard with a second shot. Not to mention the highly effective HK, who dealt with the last sentry even faster.
"Clear," Nomad assessed the situation, checking if any of the guards had survived.
"Confirmed," HK replied.
"We made noise. We need to move faster," the mercenary snorted irritably, though she understood there was no other way.
HK moved towards the door that blocked the passage to the dungeons.
"According to the sensors, there are no biosignals there except for the prisoners in the cells," Tyra reported.
"Instructive warning: That doesn't mean there's no guard," HK reminded her.
"Don't teach a mud-crawler to crush stones," the mercenary grumbled.
"Mockingly: As you say, slug."
"I'll shoot you. One day."
"With anticipation: I'll be faster."
Snorting once again, Tyra approached the door and took a position for a quick entry. HK stood on the other side.
Activating the door opening, Tyra and HK burst sharply into the room, ready for any surprises.
"Hutt!"
"Surprised: Ooh..."
There were indeed no sentries in the prison block.
Indeed, why would there be additional guards when there were such excellent sentinels as three IG-85s?
"We're in trouble," Tyra stated, well aware of the capabilities of these assassin droids.
"Ironic assessment: Amusing tin cans. And these are my colleagues from the new generation? Not impressive."
The Mandalorian, however, had a different opinion. She had already encountered the IG series developed by Holovan Laboratories. Fast, strong, and unerringly accurate droids were extremely dangerous at medium range. Due to some design limitations and flaws, the eighty-fives were vulnerable in close combat, but you still had to get close to them! Nomad herself would have preferred to shoot them with a long-range rifle, hiding somewhere outside the range of their hand-held blasters. But there was no such opportunity now.
The assassin droids were already active, and two of them had already targeted Tyra and HK. Judging by the fact that the attack had not yet begun, the Mandalorian armor had caused doubts in the killers. They didn't want to shoot the clients.
The last IG-85, standing with its back to them, turned its head one hundred and eighty degrees and stared at the intruders.
"Mockingly: The ability to turn your head three hundred and sixty degrees doesn't give you an advantage yet."
The IG turned its manipulators with blasters in a similar fashion.
"Interested: Now this is more interesting."
Tyra, taking advantage of the fact that her partner was successfully distracting them and engaging the droids in conversation, prepared a pair of ion grenades behind her back.
"Hey, psycho. I'm on backup," she said quietly over the internal comms, disabling her helmet's speakers.
"Order: Stay behind and don't get underfoot."
The next moment, HK raised his blasters and unleashed an incredibly fast series of shots that blew apart the head of the nearest IG-85, even though it had started to dodge.
Return fire hit HK-47's chest plate, but the assassin droid positioned its body so that the durasteel sheets coated with cortosis spray would not take the full charge but deflect the shots aside. The three charges aimed at Revan's creation's head missed their target. The most effective assassin of the Old Republic had timely deflected his head from the line of fire.
Tyra, having slipped behind HK, avoided injuries and threw both grenades at the enemy.
One of the IGs managed to escape the ion pulse's effect and continued to pour fire on the forty-seventh. His partner was less fortunate. The pulse overloaded the droid's circuits, causing it to freeze and silently accept a fatal dose of plasma from four Mandalorian blasters.
Realizing that even his armor wouldn't hold for long, HK lunged to the side, but first pushed Tyra in the opposite direction, saving the mercenary from injury. The forty-seventh had calculated correctly. The IG chose to eliminate the most dangerous target, ignoring the Mandalorian, which became its fatal mistake. But before Tyra aimed and blew apart the IG-85's processor unit, the assassin droid had already lost one of its manipulators, which was ripped from its chassis by the forty-seventh, who had closed the distance.
"Instructive: The ability to shoot well is important for an assassin. But don't forget about close combat. Speed and agility will be decisive factors here."
HK skillfully avoided the IG's blows and attempts to aim. The assassin from the Old Republic turned out to be much faster. It wasn't for nothing that Revan put so much effort into him.
"Important note: And the decisive role is played by materials and the strength of the joints!"
With these words, HK plunged his vibroblade into the IG's shoulder joint and, twisting it around its axis, ripped out the damaged manipulator. The next blow landed in the center of the steel frame from behind, where the flexible support structure that served as the droid's mechanical spine was located.
"Skeptical assessment: Extremely mediocre vulnerability protection. A failed model."
The vibroknife entered the rotating part of the IG-85's head, piercing the processor, simultaneously with Tyra's blaster bolt.
"Had enough?" the mercenary asked, breathing heavily with anger.
"Unsatisfied answer: No. The pathetic buckets of bolts weren't worth the effort expended."
HK rubbed the scorch marks on his chest plate.
"Irritated: Polishing again."
Tyra just waved her hand at the droid. This maniac was on his own wavelength.
An inspection of the cells confirmed the presence of hostages. According to those who were conscious, everyone brought to this station was here.
"Time to finish," Tyra said.
They needed to get the hostages out and, if possible, capture the control point to transmit a signal to Revan.
"Interested: Our floor polisher reports that it can transmit a signal through the local communication node even without capturing equipment in the control center."
"What about the hostages? Was the information confirmed?"
"Indifferently: Two dozen more meat bags have been detected on the base. All on the upper decks where the Death Watch forces are stationed. Below, there are only droids."
"You think there are no hostages upstairs?" Tyra clarified.
"Condescending remark: It's unlikely the hostages would have weapons."
"Agreed."
"Note: There are eleven minutes left until the estimated end of the operation."
"Are you suggesting evacuation and withdrawal?" Tyra clarified. "What about secrecy? They'll soon know about the missing hostages. And Vizsla will be notified about everything."
"Proposal: There is one simple and extremely effective option."
"And what is it?" the mercenary asked suspiciously.
She didn't believe the proposal would be adequate.
"With anticipation: There's a proton torpedo storage nearby."
"What? Oh, Hutt, no, not that!" Tyra slapped her visor with her palm.
"Explanation: Quick and clean."
The mercenary looked at the droid, who was almost sparking with impatience. Then at the exhausted hostages. She had no particular desire to clear out the rather large base of ancestors. The droid's proposal would save a lot of time and effort.
"I'll regret this..."
"With delight: It will be unforgettable!" the droid almost sang.
Note to the part
Translation from Mando'a:
* Strong, for a child
** Unfamiliar
*** Hello, girl. You speak. I will teach.
**** My name is Marus Nomad. And what is your name?
***** Such is the Way