When the Master assigned HK to gather information about the "object," the droid assumed he was being tasked with surveillance of a new target and was already delighted at the prospect of soon ridding another meat bag of its pathetic organic existence.
However, the clarification of the order dashed all hopes. After all, the "object" turned out to be the Master himself. And even though the creator sometimes displayed suicidal tendencies and a complete disregard for his own safety, life, and, let's be honest, common sense, the chance that he would assign HK his own elimination was... minimal. However, even if such an order had been given, the assassin droid would not have been able to carry it out. The Master's protection protocol had not been canceled. The metallic maniac could not intentionally harm his owner.
Another disheartening factor was the news that HK would be accompanied on the mission by an irritating incompetent. This armored meat bag who responded to the call sign Nomad and considered herself a representative of the Mandalorian people. The poor droid nearly short-circuited when he heard this from the Master. His memory retained records of joint battles with real Mandalorians, like Canderous Ordo, who eventually became Mandalore the Protector, reuniting the scattered clans. He, as the droid admitted to himself, would not even call him a simple "meat bag" if his programming allowed. The Mandalorian fought almost like a droid, and his disregard for other organics and his ferocity in battle evoked almost sympathy from the assassin. Almost, but not quite.
And the information that this meat bag with primary sexual characteristics of a female called herself a member of a clan related to Ordo caused surges of indignation in the emotional reaction processing and emulation block. Almost the same emotions the droid had felt at one time for those pathetic fakes – HK-50s, whom he had gladly turned into scrap metal.
But no matter how HK felt about the Mandalorian, the Master's order had to be carried out.
Revan ordered him to gather all possible information about his current vessel. Who is he? Where is he from? Who are his parents? Why was he a test subject? Is there a connection to Sidious, his teacher, or the Order?
He had to start with the Republic archives. After all, fingerprints and DNA samples should have appeared somewhere. In the end, primary biometric data should have been automatically entered into the Republic citizen database or newborn records.
Tyra was supposed to obtain such information, but through her own channels in the Hutt space and the Outer Rim. And also to connect HK with the local Coruscant criminal community, in case there were no legal traces of Revan's new body in the public domain.
By the way, Nomad herself was not enthusiastic about another paired mission. She was used to working solo and didn't need company. Especially in the company of an arrogant droid who almost openly laughed at her skills, which the girl was rightfully proud of.
So, the mercenary dropped her partner near the Archive building with undisguised joy. Since entering the archive through the main entrance, clad from head to toe in Mandalorian armor, would be the height of foolishness, it was decided to send one droid into the administrative building. Mercenaries on Coruscant were treated with caution.
"And remember, you are a protocol droid. Behave accordingly," Tyra reminded him, preparing to lift the stolen car into the air.
"Indignantly: If I need advice from a clumsy meat bag who allowed herself to be cornered in the Jedi Temple, I will inform you additionally," HK snorted. "Proudly: I know how to be invisible and deadly. And nine thousand three hundred and forty-two executed targets are proof of that."
"Just don't burst from self-satisfaction," Nomad grumbled, stung by the droid's words, and slammed the door of the enclosed car.
Any other mercenary, droid or organic, she would have immediately made pay for her insolence. But HK didn't evoke such hatred. Annoyance – yes, but not hatred. After all, the girl had to admit that as an assassin, the droid surpassed her. As unpleasant as it was to admit, HK had indeed helped her get out of the Temple. With just one shot. And such professionalism could not help but evoke respect. And it didn't matter that the object of respect was a beskar'ade.
The droid, meanwhile, completely ignoring the mercenary's slight outburst, moved towards the entrance of the giant library building, also known as the Republic Archives. The structure towered over the surrounding houses with a narrow spire, but remained noticeably lower than the Senate tower, as if showing its status. The walls were covered with elegant bas-reliefs, executed in accordance with the traditions and style of various peoples of the Republic... which distracted from the fact that the building lacked windows. And the structure itself was reinforced with durasteel, because knowledge is power and it should be protected with special care.
In terms of the volume of stored information, but unfortunately not in quality, the Archives surpassed even the renowned knowledge bases of the Jedi Temple. The HoloNet, for the most part, processed requests based precisely on this database. Here, information on any topic could be found, except for data classified by the Senate or the Judicial Corps.
The building itself was divided into three sectors with corresponding access levels: civilian, administrative, and governmental.
Records concerning birth and registration of residence were located in the administrative sector on floors thirty-six to forty, where access for ordinary citizens was closed. But when did such trifles stop HK? Especially with the support of a mercenary from the Nomad clan.
Adopting the most peaceful demeanor he was capable of, HK-47 slowly moved through the public sector towards the entrance to the administrative section. The passage was blocked by a door that looked heavy even in appearance, guarded by two guards armed with hand blasters. The assassin droid's sensors also detected the presence of four hidden security turrets, a shield generator, and two anti-vandal field emitters.
"Observation: Medium security level, but it will suffice against ordinary citizens and not-too-skilled raiders," HK noted to himself, then opened a communication channel with his temporary partner. "Request: Ready?"
"One second," the mercenary replied.
On the other end, sounds of a brief struggle were heard, after which the Mandalorian re-established communication.
"I'm at service node T-74, opening the panel. Access to the systems within two minutes."
According to the plan, Nomad was to hack the administrative sector's security network and grant access to one specific droid. Without this, HK would not have been able to enter quietly. However, there was always Plan B. A bloodier, but no less effective one.
Streams of visitors, hurrying to get answers to their queries, bustled past the assassin droid. The interior decoration looked quite modest, which was uncharacteristic for Republic administrative buildings. There were no bright colors, no huge arched passages, no abundance of statues and tapestries. Only rows of information storage on one side and dozens of individual terminals for visitors on the other. The floor, perhaps, was a mosaic of coat of arms of worlds that were part of the Republic at the time of the building's construction, and the ceiling was decorated with a fresco depicting an extremely outdated and inaccurate map of the galaxy.
HK checked his system chronometer. Just as the two minutes were up, Tyra signaled her readiness. The droid confidently headed towards the guards.
"Halt, droid. Access to the administrative sector is granted only to authorized personnel," the guard said calmly, not even reaching for his weapon.
The assassin was outraged by such disregard for security and the obvious threat he represented. However, all this played into the droid's hands, so the emotional surge was immediately suppressed by logical circuits.
It was time to do a little police work.
"Politely: Greetings, valiant law enforcement officers! I am N5K13, identification number T507-241HK. I serve Senator Atrik'Na Bochi. My master has ordered me to find the information he needs in the Archives. Entry permission was processed in accordance with current regulations."
The guard listened to the droid with a bored expression. It seemed such cases happened quite often here. His partner, meanwhile, was checking the access lists. The terminal on the counter near the guards beeped quietly, signaling a match between the droid's identifier and someone on the list.
"Everything is in order," the guard almost yawned, stepping aside from HK's path. "You can pass."
"Gratefully: Thank you!"
Approaching the massive door blocking access to the elevator to the administrative sector, the assassin droid felt himself being scanned. His weapon was hidden in a shielded compartment. However, there was always a chance that his disguise as a protocol droid would be revealed by his atypical construction, which provided significantly greater freedom of movement.
Just in case, HK prepared combat protocols and calculated an attack plan, taking into account all detected defensive systems. The guards would have been killed in the first second, without even reaching for their weapons. The containment field generators would be destroyed next, to prevent capture. Any turrets that managed to activate and leave their concealed nests would receive several precise hits from an ion blaster, which was brought along specifically for such an occasion. The remaining energy shield could be deactivated from the console of the neutralized security.
However, the plan didn't need to be implemented, as the door slid aside, opening a passage to the elevator without any problems.
There were far fewer visitors in the administrative sector. However, the interior was much more richly furnished. Here and there, one could even make out tall statues of some past figures. HK paid them no particular attention. He was more interested in the markings on the data storage units.
"Medical service records should be in section RMS-33RR," Tira informed him via comms, continuing to monitor the droid's movements through the hacked security system.
"Acknowledged," HK replied curtly.
In addition to visitors, the droid also noticed archive keepers in the hall, dressed in identical uniforms. They helped find the necessary information and also monitored the equipment in their sector. Several security patrols were also detected by the assassin droid's sensor matrix. And none of those present paid any attention to HK.
The droid proceeded to the section indicated by the Mandalorian and occupied a free terminal. Although he was not an astromech, he was equipped with a universal connector for external equipment.
"Query: Search the card catalog of medical facilities. Biometric parameters and DNA trace attached," HK began a dialogue with the Archive search system.
A match was found quite quickly.
There was only one match: Avner Van, human, biological age not specified, affiliation - Jedi Order, rank - knight.
HK copied the data. However, this was not what his Master had sent him for.
"Did you find anything?" the mercenary asked impatiently.
"Detached: The system only indicates information on a fake identity, registered by Qui-Gon shortly before our visit to the Temple. This is not what we need."
"Quite expected. If what Vaner told us is true, then he was hidden somewhere for a considerable time. Try to broaden the search. Disable biometrics, leaving only DNA and fingerprints."
"Sarcastically: Thank you for the useless remark," HK drawled, "Comment: New query is being processed."
This time, the system took significantly longer to respond. Only three minutes later did HK receive the requested information.
Republic medical droid MD-34B2, registration number H554-785MD from the merchant ship "Prospector," hull number RTVC-8845/79-M, home port Muunilinst, recorded in its logs the treatment of abrasions and bruises on an unregistered passenger aged four, whose DNA trace completely matched the one specified in the query.
When asked about the route of the specified ship, it turned out that the "Prospector" was in its home port for scheduled repairs at the time medical assistance was rendered to the unknown individual. This struck the droid as strange. It meant that either someone was brought to the ship in the repair dock, or the voyage itself was unregistered. After all, the medical droid clearly indicated in its logs that assistance was provided to a passenger. Not a dock worker, not a crew member, but specifically a passenger.
When attempting to check the repair dates of the "Prospector," the assassin droid discovered that, according to records transferred to the Ministry of Trade's transport department, the ore freighter "Oprichnik" RMVC-8485/79-M was undergoing repairs in the same dock. And at the same time! Both ships were quite large, and it was unlikely they would both fit in the same repair dock. Moreover, the ore freighter should have completed repairs faster, as it had been in the dock for almost a month, while the declared work required at most a week.
HK decided to check the movement records of these two suspicious ships and discovered another oddity. Despite both vessels being supposed to be on Muunilinst, the "Oprichnik" was registered by the Judicial Forces on a hyperspace route to the Kessel asteroids. The date of the flight roughly coincided with the date of the medical assistance registration.
The assassin droid concluded that there had been a substitution of registration codes and a change of identifier, which would have allowed the merchant ship "Prospector" to disguise itself as the ore freighter "Oprichnik." Unfortunately, the Judicial Forces did not provide visual recordings of the ship's hull, limiting themselves to sensor readings from the observation station. But even this was enough for HK to be convinced of his correctness. The ore freighter, according to the readings, was moving almost three times faster than its maximum speed indicated in the specifications. For the merchant ship "Prospector," however, such speeds were quite normal average speeds.
So, it turned out that someone with the same DNA as the Master was being transported to the asteroids in the Kessel sector on a merchant ship from Muunilinst. Thus, it meant that before this, this unknown individual had been on the homeworld of the Muuns.
"Perhaps he was born there?" Tira ventured a guess after the droid informed her of the new information.
"Objection: Unlikely," HK expressed his opinion, "Clarification: He could have been born anywhere, and then delivered to Muunilinst."
"But the search of medical records didn't yield any matches among registered births?" Nomad clarified.
"Affirmative," HK agreed, "Assumption: The birth could have occurred outside the Republic's territory."
"Hmm..." the mercenary pondered while HK continued his search for information, "What about passenger registration?"
"Reminder: According to the medical droid, the passenger was not registered," the assassin droid reminded her.
"Yes, I remember, but he must have passed through the spaceport, right? Every dock has a biometric scanner, whether it's a passenger terminal or cargo. The Republic likes to pretend it monitors security."
"Observation: These scanners are easily fooled, which is what mercenaries and smugglers use," HK noted.
"Yes, but there are traces of tampering. The Judiciary turns a blind eye to it because they can't track the sources of the hacks. But we're only interested in the fact of data substitution itself," Tira became animated.
HK turned to the terminal again and composed a new query. He was interested in records of people who passed through repair dock SD-344 on the day the "Oprichnik" departed.
There were several matches. The information for four cases looked suspicious. The registration files were damaged, which indirectly indicated data substitution. One of the entries featured a child registered as a Muun, Zihra Kadass, which was clearly a lie. Firstly, Zihra Kadass had died a year before this incident, as recorded in the Kuat Shipyards Archives, which the Muun had visited on the day of his death. Secondly, a Muun who was four years old according to the documents should have been a meter taller than the height indicated in the biometric scanner logs. Meanwhile, for a human child, the parameters were quite acceptable.
And this provided new biometric parameters for the search! So HK didn't hesitate. A match was found quickly, but the file was somehow encoded.
"This information block has been locked by the administration. Please enter the appropriate access code or contact the hall operator," the terminal message read.
"Strange," Tira remarked, "Terminals usually don't ask for additional passwords if the user has been granted access to the relevant sector... Unless the information was classified at the request of the Senate or the Jedi Temple."
"Assessment of possibilities: Both cases are quite likely," the droid concluded, "Assumption: Access can only be obtained through the hall administrator's account. Locked by keycard and biometric fingerprint."
HK looked around and noted five employees in the uniform of keepers. Three humans, a Twi'lek, and a Togruta.
"Hutt..."
The Mandalorian had already guessed what the droid was planning, and had begun hacking the surveillance systems.
"Query: Which of the keepers has the necessary level of access?"
"One second," Tira replied and opened the security service database, where she had recently entered information about Senator Atrik'na Bochi's protocol droid, "Okay, the administrator is listed as a certain Shila Zann, a Togruta. Yellow skin, blue clan tattoos."
"Confirmation: I see her," the assassin droid immediately responded, "Query: Surveillance at the terminal should be disabled."
"Working on it," Nomad grumbled, returning to the hacking process.
The droid, meanwhile, headed towards the Togruta who perfectly matched the description. He needed to make her go with HK without anyone following, and without the keeper herself becoming suspicious.
HK again assumed the guise of a harmless protocol droid and, clumsily moving his legs as if he were a gizka with broken limbs, emerged from the passage between the tall shelves of data storage.
"Panicked: Help!" HK-47 shouted at the top of his vocabulizer, attracting the Togruta's attention, "Worried: The terminal! My Master's holodisk!"
"Oh, spirits! Another psycho protocol droid," the Togruta grumbled, shaking her head, "What makes you all so emotional?"
"Panicked: Help! Master will dismantle me! He's a senator!"
The mention of the droid's master's high status affected the keeper like a bucket of cold water, instantly putting her in a working mood. No one wanted a complaint from the Senate.
"Calm down. What happened?" she asked HK, who was shuffling towards her.
"Quick explanation: My holodisk! The one Master gave me! He ordered me to copy the statistics of medical facilities in his sector. But when I connected the holodisk, the terminal suddenly gave a system error and blocked the port! Master will be furious if I return empty-handed."
"Calm down," the Togruta said, adopting the friendliest demeanor, "Which terminal blocked your holodisk?"
"Worried: Let's go, I'll show you!" HK gestured clumsily with his hands, turning back towards the passage he had just emerged from.
The terminal he led the keeper to was covered on three sides by a wall and shelves, but was clearly visible to the surveillance camera. However, Tira was supposed to solve this problem.
When they were only about ten steps from the terminal, HK was ready to move to plan B, but the mercenary didn't fail him.
"The video is looping," Nomad reported via comms, "You have about seven minutes before the system initiates diagnostics due to the repeating data stream from one of the cameras."
The next second, HK-47 took a sharp step back, letting the Togruta pass him, and delivered two quick, precise blows to the nerve clusters on the back of her head at the base of her lekku. Without a sound, the keeper fell forward face-first, instantly losing consciousness from shock.
The assassin droid quickly searched the victim's body and found the required keycard to access the administrator's account. Using the card, and also placing the unconscious Togruta's hand on the scanner, HK managed to remove the lock on the information he needed. However, to his disappointment, it didn't help much. Nothing could be found except the name of the child born on Muunilinst. A holophoto was attached. The resemblance to the Master was evident even without confirmation from the recognition protocol.
Mitzar Marr, that was the boy's name. All data about him had been erased by someone. However, the perpetrator did not take into account that it was impossible to completely erase a person from the Republic's registry so easily. If there was no death certificate, then during the annual check and census, the duty droid would try to restore the records by requesting information directly from the medical facility, as well as from the medical droids who undoubtedly participated in the delivery. And it seemed they forgot to erase the droids' memories. Therefore, a birth certificate existed in the database, albeit with violations. In particular, information about the newborn's parents was missing.
HK conducted several more cross-searches, trying to find leads. But they all ended on the homeworld of the Muuns.
"Observation: Data was erased from all archives several years ago, presumably by one of the keepers. He had no access to copies outside of Coruscant. Many signs of tampering. The work was done carelessly, but effectively."
"So, Muunilinst?" Tira mused, "There are a couple of organizations on the lower levels that have been closely cooperating with the Muuns on various not-so-legal matters for many years. I think we should pay them a courtesy visit."
"Affirmative..." the droid began, but was interrupted by the mercenary's exclamation.
"Hutt, a patrol is moving towards you! Ten meters from the west. They'll be at the passage in five seconds."
HK reacted immediately. Combat protocols were activated, but a direct confrontation should be avoided.
The droid disconnected from the terminal, picked up the unconscious body of the Togruta, and threw it onto the terminal, breaking the outer panel.
"Panic: Help!" HK-47 yelled, "Someone! Help! She's not feeling well!"
At that very moment, the guards appeared in the passage.
"What happened here?" one of them asked menacingly.
"Worried: My holodisk was blocked in a faulty terminal. I asked the keeper for help, but when she approached the terminal, she suddenly tripped and fell onto the console. It seems she got an electric shock and lost consciousness!"
A burst of sparks from the exposed wires, as if on command, served as clear proof of the droid's story. Indeed, why would a harmless protocol droid lie?
"Oh, shit! Pike, call medics and technicians!" one of the guards commanded, kneeling beside the Togruta, "She's breathing, but she got a nasty jolt! A burn on half her face!"
HK additionally read the victim's vital signs, analyzing her condition. Traumatic brain injury from hitting the terminal, extensive hematoma in the occipital region after the droid's attack, electric shock, and third-degree burns on her face. Irreversible brain damage is likely. Forty percent probability of death without qualified specialist intervention within the next twenty minutes. Estimated recovery time if medical assistance is provided - from six weeks to a year.
The outcome seemed quite acceptable for the droid's mission. Immediate liquidation of the Togruta was pointless.
Taking advantage of the commotion, the assassin droid discreetly left the scene and exited the Archive building without hindrance.
Once in the aerocar with Nomad, HK first inquired about what the Mandalorian knew about organizations illegally working with the Muuns. The hunt and information gathering protocol required copying known information to avoid its loss before the mission was completed. Therefore, the droid could not allow the mercenary to keep the information to herself.
"Thinking about what we've managed to find out, I decided that first we should check those who had the necessary skills or connections to erase the child's data from the Republic registry," Tira began, "How many years ago was that? Ten to fifteen? Then the chances are slim. After all, such specialists rarely live long."
"Observation: Whoever commissioned such an operation must have had extensive connections, considerable wealth, and practically unlimited human and technical resources," HK added, "Analysis: Both ships involved in the code substitution and child transport were registered to private individuals."
"Smugglers?" Nomad surmised.
"Agreed: Quite likely," the droid nodded, "However, according to the Ministry of Trade, both ships were often hired for irregular flights by the company 'MSK,' or 'Muunilinst Synthetic Crystals.' The company is one of the secondary contractors for the Techno Union's shipbuilding yards and is a subsidiary of 'Dakora Industrial Factories,' which in turn is part of the 'Damask Holdings' syndicate."
"What are you getting at?"
"Optional explanation: Such organizations would not turn to petty swindlers, but would seek someone with a reputation who could provide guarantees," HK replied in a condescending tone.
Nomad pondered. The droid was right, and therefore the scope of the search was significantly narrowed.
"Of those who have the necessary reputation, and have been in this market for over ten years, I can probably name only Decker's gang and the Kirshaah clan."
"Query: Details needed. What do you know about these sacks of meat?"
"Decker is a former captain of the Judicial Forces. He was disgracefully dismissed on charges of corruption, but he retained the necessary connections in high circles. He founded the transport company 'Hyperstar' and began to rapidly develop his business. Very soon he gained a reputation for being able to deliver anything anywhere, without unnecessary questions. Smuggling and slave trading were almost openly listed in the price list," Nomad snorted, "The second is the Quarren Kirshaah Slask. He arrived on Coruscant about twenty years ago with the remnants of his gang, proudly called a clan. He quickly settled in his new place thanks to the 'roof' of Black Sun. However, after a year he broke free from their influence and began to confidently compete in the market of smuggling, illegal trade, and various... orders."
The Mandalorian directed the car down, descending deeper into the black heart of Coruscant.
"I don't know how he settled with Black Sun, but they don't touch him. Rumor has it he's somehow connected to the Hutts, and his ancestors were involved in criminal circles since the time of 'The Exchange'."
"Remark: Quarren Loppak Slask was the head of The Exchange on Telos IV. Perhaps they are indeed relatives," the droid noted, "Irritated: And overtake this car already, before I shoot out its repulsorlifts! We're losing time. Master gave us only twenty-four hours."
HK had never failed his Master. All orders were executed clearly and on time. There were still sixteen hours allocated by the Master, but the assassin droid had no intention of risking delays.
"I know," Tira grumbled, bypassing the slow-moving transport, "Decker and Slask are equally likely to be involved in this matter. But we should start with Decker. Firstly, unlike Slask, he's always hanging around his office, so he's not hard to find. And secondly, even if he's not involved, he'll at least help us find the Quarren."
The droid agreed with the mercenary's suggestion, and Nomad directed the car to the Hyperstar company's office on level C-44.
"No tricks this time, HK," Tira warned as they got out of the transport and headed for the main entrance to Decker's building, "We're quite close to the surface, so law enforcement can get to us quickly."
"Sardonic remark: Cunning sack of meat," the droid drawled, "Hopes for help from the Judicial Forces. Likes to feel safe. Naive dead man."
Nomad chuckled and nodded, agreeing with the experienced killer's opinion. She, having had to carry out various assignments, including capturing or eliminating targets, perfectly understood that safety was an illusion. And for a professional, security would not be an obstacle. Just a minor unpleasant detail, nothing more.
The entrance to the building, with its glowing, giant, ornate "Hyperstar" sign, was guarded by two well-armed Duroos. Military-grade automatic carbines could cause problems even for the assassin droid's sturdy armor plates.
HK once again noted that the local fighters apparently considered themselves immortal, as they ignored personal protective equipment with enviable disregard. Only one of the two guards had a personal energy shield attached to his belt. Apparently, to somehow compensate for the lack of body armor. The fabric shirt and rancor hide vest couldn't be considered protection. The second fighter seemed to be relying on duraplast armor, forgetting that it required a padded underlayer to cover the very wide gaps between the plates of the protective set. If HK had such a target, he would have dealt with the guards in less than a second and a half. They wouldn't have had time to squeak.
However, the mercenary insisted on attempting peaceful dialogue, as, according to her, she still had to work with this sack of meat. The droid was not sure about that. Who knew how things would turn out.
"Nomad, to Decker," Tira said confidently to the guards.
One of the fighters reached for his comlink and relayed the Mandalorian's words to his superiors. A few seconds later, a response came. The local "Boss" agreed to see Nomad.
"Go ahead, but surrender your weapons at the post in the lobby," the Duroo said gruffly.
"What, did Decker shit himself because of one little Mandalorian?" Tira asked mockingly.
"I don't know. It's none of my business. An order is an order," the guard shrugged and turned to his partner, "Rulo, escort them."
"Uh-huh," the second fighter grunted and, with his hand on his blaster, nodded towards the entrance, inviting the "guests" inside.
Nomad snorted, but obeyed. Such an outcome was expected, and therefore HK-47 maintained the appearance of a harmless, blissful protocol droid. Just like a kinrat kitten, blow on him and he'll curl into a ball. At least, that's what the guards concluded. After all, they didn't even check the droid for weapons.
"They've gotten quite relaxed on Coruscant," Tira thought, surrendering her blasters, knives, and a set of mini-grenades along with her belt pouch.
After the disarmament procedure, Nomad and HK were led to the elevator. Decker's office was located on one of the upper floors of the not-so-tall building.
The company owner, as HK noted, exiting the elevator, did not shy away from security. A thin man, looking thirty to forty years old, with skin as pale as white and wheat-colored hair, sat at a table at the far end of the room, separated from the elevator by a transparisteel barrier, which more closely resembled a starship's viewscreen, dismantled from some destroyer and shoved at an acute angle into a cramped room with a low ceiling. Two rapid-fire turrets hung from the ceiling, and the table, according to the sensors, was equipped with a barrier, which, however, was currently deactivated. Four security droids were positioned in the corners of the room, and behind Decker stood two more guards, noticeably better equipped than their colleagues below. Humans, as HK noted.
"Oh, what guests in my humble abode!" the owner of the office, dressed in an expensive suit with a slanted collar and lapels trimmed with gold, rose from his seat and warmly greeted the mercenary. "Tira Nomad herself has graced me with her presence."
Although his words and behavior carried no threat, HK calculated that Decker's reaction was feigned, and in reality, he was nervous in the presence of the Mandalorian. His rapid pulse and the small beads of sweat that appeared on his temples clearly indicated this.
"Decker," Nomad nodded in greeting and, walking around the transparisteel screen, stood opposite the table.
HK silently followed the mercenary.
The guards reacted to this maneuver and tensed, gripping their weapons tighter.
"You haven't visited me in a long time," the office owner continued to smile. "Don't you want some kaff? A glass of brandy? Or perhaps you'll finally agree to pamper yourself with a Trigelian massage? I've mastered their twelve-finger technique."
"And where do you get two extra fingers?" Tira chuckled, maintaining the strange conversation.
"A secret," the man winked.
HK noted that one of Decker's eyes was artificial and differed in color.
"Let's leave your sick fantasies for later, shall we?" the mercenary shook her head, leaning her hands on the tabletop. "I came on business."
"And how else?" Decker removed his smile. "You don't come to me for anything else."
"I need information about some services that were rendered to the Muuns about ten years ago," Nomad stated directly.
The office owner raised an eyebrow.
"Ten years ago? And with the Muuns?" he asked in surprise. "Why do you need that?"
"My business is none of your concern," the mercenary cut him off. "I need information, and I'm willing to pay for it."
The man squinted.
"You or your employer?"
"I'm talking to you now, right?"
"That's how it is, but you definitely have an employer."
"What difference does it make to you?" Nomad began to get irritated.
"Essentially none, but I have quite close relationships with the Muuns. Regular orders, partnerships in related industries. Such prospects," Decker began to list. "So their secrets can be my secrets. And that's a completely different price. And who will guarantee that your employer won't suddenly decide to get rid of my partners?"
Nomad wanted to say something, but the assassin droid intervened.
"Useful observation: In your place, you should worry more about the mysterious employer not deciding to burn this den to the ground, along with its inhabitants," HK said in an instructive tone.
Decker squinted at the droid and smirked.
"Funny little toy," the man snorted. "Is he threatening me?"
"Warning, rather," HK replied, slightly annoyed by the intervention. "But it's better to listen to him."
The office owner leaned back wearily in his chair and shook his head in dismay.
"Where is this galaxy heading?" he moaned in a mock-sad voice. "Old friends come to my house and threaten me with death."
The security droids moved closer to the table, weapons at the ready. The fighters behind Decker grinned and began to raise their barrels.
However, HK and Nomad were faster. The assassin droid quickly drew a pair of blasters from a hidden compartment and threw one of them to the mercenary. Two shots rang out simultaneously, and both bodyguards fell with shot heads. It all happened in a fraction of a second, and the guards froze in place, as the muzzle of a hand blaster was pressed against their owner's forehead, and the protocol droid standing next to him held a grenade in its manipulator, in addition to its firearm.
"Instructive: So, my thick-headed sub-brothers, this little ball is nothing more than an M-3 thermal detonator, military-grade with a guaranteed thermal damage radius of 75 meters," HK-47 announced loudly. "Recommendation: Drop your weapons and move to the far corner of the room. Your security protocols will not allow you to open fire while your owner is in danger."
The security droids obediently dropped their blasters on the floor and huddled in the corner.
"Joyfully: Well done, good bags of bolts," HK said in a pleased tone, throwing a grenade towards the droids.
"Noooo!" Decker screamed, realizing that the entire small room was within the blast radius.
However, instead of a deadly thermal explosion, the grenade emitted an electromagnetic wave and a series of ionic discharges, which instantly burned out the electronics of the mechanical security.
"Contemptuously: A waste of metal and circuits," HK snorted. "They can't even distinguish a thermal detonator from an ion grenade. Hey, bag of meat, where did you get these imbeciles? From a junk sale in the ass of a bantha?"
"N-n-no... detonator?" Decker stammered, crawling out from under the table where he had managed to dive.
"Mockingly: N-no," the assassin droid mimicked the man.
The man exhaled with relief.
"Clarification: But this is it," HK demonstrated a new ball in the open palm of his manipulator. "Warning: It has a short fuse. You have only ten seconds to answer, bag of meat."
Nomad did not clarify that they were also in the danger zone. After all, the goal was to intimidate Decker, and HK's improvisation was doing a great job of it.
"You better answer, buddy," Tira suggested, crossing her arms. "This droid has been missing screws in its head for a long time."
Decker's gaze darted from the droid to the grenade, then to the mercenary, reflecting all the horror that this former smuggler, not distinguished by courage, was experiencing.
HK, meanwhile, activated the detonator.
The countdown sound further agitated the man.
"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! What do you want?!" Decker screamed.
"About ten years ago, the Muuns transported a boy named Mizar Marr from Muunilinst to Kessel. Someone changed the registration numbers of the ore freighter 'Oprichnik' and the transport ship 'Staratel', and the information about the boy was completely erased from the Republic Archives. Do you remember?"
"What? Ore freighter? A boy?" the office owner feigned ignorance and tried to reach for the alarm button under the table, which would have activated the turrets and summoned a patrol squad.
However, HK thwarted the attempt with a powerful blow to the arm. A bone clearly cracked, and the man screamed in pain, while Nomad dragged his chair away from the table.
"Comment: I'll take this," HK-47 announced, tearing the alarm button panel from the tabletop by the root.
"I'll shoot your knees now!" Tira snarled, pressing the blaster barrel to Decker's leg. "And then I'll burn out your remaining lying eye with a red-hot barrel! Speak!"
"I don't remember! Ten years!" the former smuggler bleated.
The mercenary shot the interrogated man in the knee, causing a new wail. The red-hot barrel hissed against his skin, right under his healthy eye.
"Do I need to repeat the question, damn it?!"
HK, observing the information extraction process from the side, tracking possible threats and reinforcement approaches, noted that he definitely liked the mercenary's approach.
"It wasn't me!" the man shouted. "I only got the access codes to the Archives!"
"Mockingly: Look at that, you remembered!" HK commented on Decker's sudden revelations.
"Who was the client?" Nomad barked, pointing the barrel this time at the former smuggler's crotch.
"Don't shoot! I'll tell you everything! Everything I know!" the man, still alive, shrieked hysterically.
"Speak!" Tira pressed.
"I was asked to erase data about some kid, a Miraluka half-blood! They said his father was a Jedi! But I couldn't access the Archives back then! Just as the Justice Department started breathing down my neck..."
"Go on!"
"I... I sold them the codes! And explained what to do so they could handle it themselves."
"Who?"
"I don't know who the client was! A mediator contacted me!"
"Who?"
"A Trandoshan! Grizz!"
"Grizz?" the mercenary repeated. "Grizz Zahra?"
"Yes!"
Nomad turned to HK.
"Request: Do you know him?"
"A bounty hunter. Often works for the Kirshaah clan," the Mandalorian replied.
"Mockingly: Small world."
"Indeed," the mercenary nodded.
"That's all... all I know," Decker moaned, cradling his injured arm and whimpering in pain.
"If you lied, we'll be back," Nomad threatened, disdainfully pushing the wounded man away. "Let's go."
"Acknowledged," HK nodded and moved towards the elevator.
Tira, however, gave Decker a heavy boot to the face as a parting gift, sending the man into blissful oblivion.
"Warning: There may be trouble waiting downstairs," HK informed, entering the cabin.
"Unlikely," Nomad shook her head. "This asshole has good soundproofing."
Indeed, no one stopped the Mandalorian and the droid on their way out. The guards meekly returned the mercenary's weapons and let the pair out of the building.
As they were getting into the car, HK suddenly froze and turned his head towards the Hyperstar building.
"What happened?" Tira asked, lowering her hand to her blaster.
"Explanation: The sensor I left with this bag of meat just in case detected an outgoing signal from his office."
"Decided to warn Grizz? Hutt... The Kirshaahs will be waiting for us."
"With anticipation: They won't," HK said, activating the remote detonation of the thermal detonator.
The monstrous explosion that followed moments later completely blew off the upper floors of the building, and the shockwave damaged the load-bearing structure of the lower floors.
"Surprised: Hmm, the detonator marking is incorrect, it's an M-5, not an M-3," the droid remarked with poorly concealed amusement in its voice.
"You're still a psycho," Nomad chuckled, watching the Hyperstar building sink and crumble.
"Explanation: Fewer witnesses mean fewer problems for an assassin droid disguised as a normal servant."
Tira nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the droid's point.
"Now, to visit the Kirshaahs?"
"Affirmative."
The mercenary lifted the car into the air.
"Listen, psycho, do you have any more of those toys left?"
"Positively: Nine units."
"May the ancestors protect us..."