Chapter 20 : Emergency Upgrades
The secondary safehouse feels smaller every hour. Bare walls. Minimal furniture. One window overlooking industrial sector where cargo haulers grind through eternal night shifts. I've been here three days since the Anakin encounter, and the space already feels like a cage.
R4 hovers beside the window, photoreceptor scanning approaches obsessively. The droid hasn't entered standby mode since the market. Just constant vigilance punctuated by probability calculations I don't want to hear.
"Master should review defensive options," R4 announces for the third time today. "Current equipment insufficient against Jedi-level threat."
The droid's right. My UNSC armor stopped gang violence. Personal shields absorbed blaster fire. But Anakin Skywalker doesn't use blasters. He uses a lightsaber that cuts through durasteel like mist.
I pull up the System catalog and navigate to defensive equipment. The high-end section I've been avoiding because the prices make my eyes water. Not anymore. Fear is expensive, and I'm terrified.
[ CORTOSIS-WEAVE ARMOR - JEDI COMBAT RATED ]
[ COST: 45000 CREDITS ]
[ DESCRIPTION: LIGHTSABER RESISTANT MATERIAL, MILITARY GRADE ]
[ EFFECTIVENESS: 87% BLADE DEFLECTION, 13% PENETRATION RISK ]
Forty-five thousand credits for armor that might—might—stop a lightsaber. The most expensive single item I've purchased. But watching Anakin's hand move toward his weapon replays in my mind constantly. That casual threat. That absolute certainty he could end me.
I confirm the purchase before rational thought intervenes.
[ ADVANCED PERSONAL SHIELD GENERATOR - MILITARY SURPLUS ]
[ COST: 20000 CREDITS ]
[ CAPACITY: 20 HITS BEFORE RECHARGE ]
[ RECHARGE TIME: 8 SECONDS ]
Twenty thousand more. My current shield died after seven hits during hypothetical combat scenarios R4 keeps projecting. Twenty-hit capacity might buy me thirty seconds. Might buy me enough time to run.
[ EMERGENCY BEACON - SYNDICATE RESPONSE NETWORK ]
[ COST: 15000 CREDITS ]
[ RESPONSE TIME: 4-7 MINUTES AVERAGE ]
[ RANGE: 50 KILOMETER RADIUS ]
If Anakin comes for me and I survive the initial confrontation, reinforcements in four minutes could matter. Could mean the difference between capture and escape.
[ HOLOGRAPHIC DISGUISE PROJECTOR - ADVANCED MODEL ]
[ COST: 8000 CREDITS ]
[ DURATION: 6 HOURS PER CHARGE ]
[ EFFECTIVENESS: 73% AGAINST CASUAL OBSERVATION ]
Can't fight Jedi. Can't outrun Force-users who sense presence. But maybe I can hide in plain sight. The projector won't fool focused scrutiny, but it might let me navigate upper levels without immediate recognition.
[ BACKUP IDENTITY DOCUMENTATION - BLACK MARKET ]
[ COST: 12000 CREDITS ]
[ INCLUDES: 3 COMPLETE IDENTITIES WITH BIOMETRIC SPOOFING ]
If everything fails. If Coruscant becomes completely untenable. Three escape identities that might—might—let me flee off-world.
I review the shopping list. One hundred thousand credits. Nearly fifteen percent of my liquid assets gone in defensive spending that might not even work.
"This is what fear costs. This is the price of antagonizing someone who can kill me with a thought."
I confirm all purchases. The System processes them efficiently, deducting credits with mechanical precision.
[ TOTAL EXPENDITURE: 100000 CREDITS ]
[ CURRENT BALANCE: 573595 CREDITS ]
[ DEFENSIVE CAPABILITY: INCREASED BY 47.3% ]
[ SURVIVAL PROBABILITY VS JEDI: INCREASED TO 34.2% ]
Thirty-four percent. Still terrible. But better than the twenty-seven I had before.
The equipment arrives via various couriers over the next six hours. Each delivery uses different routes, different drop points. Paranoia protocols that R4 insists on and I'm too frightened to question.
The cortosis armor arrives first—matte black weave that weighs less than expected. I strip off my damaged UNSC gear and put on the new armor piece by piece. Chest plate, arm guards, leg protection. Each piece interfaces with personal shields, creating layered defense.
R4 scans the completed assembly. "Armor effectiveness: 87% lightsaber resistance confirmed. However, master should note: 13% penetration risk is lethal. One successful strike equals death."
"Thanks for the encouragement."
"Encouragement is not primary function. Accurate threat assessment is. Master's survival depends on avoiding direct confrontation with Jedi, not surviving such confrontation."
The droid's right. This armor is expensive insurance against scenario I need to never encounter. Running is still optimal strategy.
I activate the holographic disguise projector experimentally. My reflection in the cracked mirror shifts—features blur, reshape into generic human male with forgettable characteristics. The change is subtle but effective. Not different enough to trigger alarms, just unmemorable enough to avoid recognition.
"How long before Anakin finds me?" I ask R4.
"Insufficient data for precise calculation. However, General Skywalker's investigation methods are well-documented. Estimated timeline: twelve to eighteen days before master's operation is exposed or master is arrested. Possibly both simultaneously."
Less than three weeks. Maybe as few as twelve days before Republic authority backed by Jedi enforcement crashes down.
"Strategic options?"
R4 projects analysis on the bare wall: "Option one: Flee Coruscant immediately. Advantages: removes master from Jedi's immediate operational area. Disadvantages: abandons established network, marks master as fugitive, damages reputation. Option two: Maintain operations while seeking political protection. Advantages: preserves business investment. Disadvantages: high mortality risk if protection fails."
"Jassi mentioned Mandalorians."
"Death Watch faction specifically. Analysis: Mandalorian culture emphasizes warrior honor, equipment quality, and anti-Jedi sentiment dating to historical conflicts. Probability they would shelter valuable weapons supplier: 34.2%. Probability they would execute master and confiscate inventory: 57.8%. Probability of other outcomes: 8%."
The math is brutal. Fifty-seven percent chance they kill me. But it's the only political shield visible that doesn't require Senate connections I don't have or crime lord status I can't achieve.
"How do I approach them without immediately dying?"
"Recommended protocol: indirect introduction through trusted intermediary. Direct contact probability of survival: 11.3%. Mediated introduction through mutual business associate: 34.2%."
Thax. Syndicate connections. Kreel mentioned dealing with Mandalorians during some past crisis.
I draft encrypted message: "Need introduction to Mandalorians. Death Watch specifically. Willing to pay substantial introduction fee. Time-sensitive matter."
Send it through three proxy servers before final delivery to Thax's network.
Response arrives forty-seven minutes later: "You're serious? They're completely insane. Warrior culture fanatics who solve problems by shooting first. But... Kreel did business with them during Mandalore's civil war situation. He might still have contacts. This will cost you."
"How much?"
"Minimum 50k for introduction. Maybe more depending on Kreel's mood. Plus you'll owe Syndicate favor that might cost more than credits."
Fifty thousand credits just for introduction that might result in immediate execution. The price of desperation keeps climbing.
"Acceptable. Set up meeting with Kreel."
"Tomorrow. 1600 hours. Syndicate headquarters. Come ready to negotiate."
I close the encrypted channel and sit on the thin mattress. The cortosis armor is uncomfortable—designed for combat, not prolonged wear. But taking it off means vulnerability I can't afford.
"Master's strategy shows improved tactical thinking," R4 observes. "However, master's situation remains precarious. Multiple hostile forces: Jedi investigation, Black Sun assassination attempts, CS manhunt, potential Mandalorian violence. Survival probability: 27.4% over next thirty days."
"You said defensive equipment increased it to thirty-four percent."
"That calculation assumed no additional hostile contacts. Black Sun attempt on master's life is 94.7% probable within two weeks. Mandalorian negotiations add 57.8% execution risk. Jedi confrontation: 41% probability. Combined threats reduce overall survival to 27.4%."
I laugh—harsh, bitter sound. "So I spent one hundred thousand credits to drop my survival chances by seven percent?"
"Affirmative. However, equipment increases survival probability conditional on hostile contact occurring. Without equipment, survival during hostile contact: 8.3%. With equipment: 34.2%. Master's expenditure was logical given inevitability of violence."
The droid's math makes my head hurt. But the logic is sound—I can't avoid violence, so equipment that helps me survive violence is worthwhile investment despite terrible overall odds.
That night, I practice movement in the new armor. The cortosis weave is more flexible than UNSC gear but still restrictive. I draw my blaster from concealed holster—fumble it once, drop it twice. My combat capability remains laughable despite expensive equipment.
"Master's martial proficiency: minimal," R4 confirms unnecessarily. "Equipment compensates for lack of skill but cannot replace competence. Master remains fundamentally non-combatant."
"Then what's the point of armor?"
"Armor buys time for allies to arrive or master to escape. Survival through equipment and tactics, not through combat capability."
I holster the blaster and check the emergency beacon. Simple activation switch. Press it and Syndicate reinforcements mobilize. Four to seven minute response time according to specifications.
"Seven minutes is eternity when someone's trying to kill you."
But it's better than dying alone in an alley like the body I woke next to after transmigration. That corpse—the Rodian with the smoking chest wound—feels like different lifetime ago. Different person. The man who vomited over that death wouldn't recognize the man who just spent one hundred thousand credits on equipment to facilitate continued arms dealing.
I check my datapad. Messages from multiple clients: Syndicate wants additional weapons, refugees need ammunition resupply, clone networks are expanding with medical requests, Republic procurement officers are asking about availability.
The demand is endless. War creates infinite appetite for violence, and I'm the supplier feeding that appetite with technology from universes that don't exist in this reality.
R4's photoreceptor dims slightly. "Master should rest. Neural patterns indicate severe sleep deprivation. Cognitive function declining."
"Can't sleep. Keep thinking about Anakin."
"Obsessive threat focus is counterproductive. General Skywalker represents significant danger but is not immediate threat. Black Sun assassination attempt is statistically more likely in next seventy-two hours."
"That's not comforting."
"Comfort is not primary function. Accurate threat prioritization is. Master should focus on surviving most immediate dangers while preparing for long-term threats."
The droid's right. Anakin is the storm on the horizon. Black Sun is the knife already at my throat. Mandalorians are the gamble that might save me or kill me outright.
I lie on the mattress, wearing full armor, blaster within reach, emergency beacon activated. Sleep comes eventually—fitful dreams of lightsabers and gang warfare and Mandalorian warriors in beskar armor demanding tribute I can't pay.
Morning brings Thax's confirmation: "Kreel will see you. 1600 hours. Come alone except for droid. Boss wants to discuss Mandalorian introduction personally."
Six hours until the meeting. Six hours to prepare for negotiation that determines whether I get political protection or just accumulate more debt to criminal syndicate.
I spend those hours reviewing everything I know about Mandalorians from Clone Wars lore. Warrior culture. Honor-based society. Death Watch as extremist faction opposing pacifist New Mandalore government. They're desperate for weapons, isolated politically, and historically hostile to Jedi.
Perfect allies. If they don't murder me on principle.
R4 projects cultural analysis: "Mandalorian negotiation protocols emphasize directness, respect for capability, and zero tolerance for deception. Master should be honest about limitations, demonstrate value proposition clearly, and show understanding of their warrior culture. Deception probability of detection: 87.3%. Consequences of detected deception: lethal."
"So don't lie to the heavily armed warriors who might kill me anyway."
"Correct. Master's survival depends on being valuable enough that execution wastes asset. Demonstrate irreplaceability."
At 1547 hours, I leave the safehouse wearing civilian clothes over cortosis armor. The holographic disguise projector creates forgettable features. Emergency beacon is active. Three backup identities are secured in hidden compartment.
I'm as prepared as I'll ever be to negotiate with crime lord about introducing me to warrior cult that might execute me for existing.
R4 hovers close as we navigate to Syndicate headquarters. "Master's stress levels: extreme. Recommendation: breathing exercises."
"Will breathing exercises stop Kreel from demanding unreasonable price?"
"Negative. But will prevent master from hyperventilating during negotiation. Unconscious negotiators achieve poor outcomes."
Despite everything, I smile. The droid's deadpan delivery of terrible truths is becoming almost comforting.
We reach Syndicate headquarters at 1558 hours. Two minutes early. Professional courtesy that might matter to crime lords who value punctuality.
Thax meets us at the entrance. "Kreel's in a mood. Keep it brief, be direct, don't waste his time."
"What kind of mood?"
"The kind where he's deciding if you're worth the complications you're bringing." Thax's expression is grim. "Black Sun attacked three of our positions yesterday. They're desperate. That makes them unpredictable. Boss doesn't like unpredictable."
We enter the building. My hand stays near concealed blaster despite knowing it's useless against Syndicate enforcers if this goes wrong.
Kreel waits in the same conference room where we negotiated the Titan deal. The Trandoshan is examining datapad, claws tapping impatiently.
"Kade Varro. The merchant who antagonized a Jedi and survived." His voice is sardonic. "Stupid or brave?"
"Stupid," I admit immediately. "Definitely stupid."
That gets a laugh—harsh reptilian sound. "Honest. Good. Now explain why I should connect you with Mandalorians."
Time to negotiate for my life with crime lord who holds all the cards.
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