On the way to his uncle's workshop, Alex witnessed an operation by the city guard. From a distance, he heard the characteristic wail of sirens and saw flashes of blaster fire reflecting off the metal walls of the storage hangars. Curiosity overcame caution – he turned off the main route and cautiously approached the scene, hiding behind cargo containers.
The scene unfolded like something out of an action movie. An old YT-1300 class freighter, its hull darkened by time and with crude modifications, was surrounded by city guard speeders. Their red and blue flashing lights created a bizarre play of light and shadow in the industrial gloom of the spaceport. Demands to surrender blared from loudspeakers, but the ship's crew clearly had no intention of complying.
Alex settled behind a massive loading crane and began to observe the unfolding events. Fire was exchanged from both sides – the ship's defenders fired from their onboard weapons and handheld blasters, while the guard forces returned fire from cover behind their speeders. The air vibrated with energy discharges, and the smell of ozone and burnt metal grew stronger.
Half an hour later, the siege ended. One of the ship's defenders tried to break through to an emergency exit but was shot down by a precise sniper shot. The rest, apparently, realized the futility of resistance and surrendered. Alex saw three people being led out of the ship in handcuffs – two men and a female Twi'lek. Even from a distance, it was noticeable that these were not ordinary traders – they held themselves too professionally under the threat of weapons.
When the commotion subsided and the convoy took away the arrested, Alex headed to his uncle's workshop, full of impressions from what he had seen.
Instead of the usual sound of working tools and his uncle Garrek's focused grunts, Alex heard the sounds of a holoprojector and chewing.
Uncle Garrek sat in an old armchair in front of a small holo-screen, holding a plate with steaming food of dubious appearance. A typical action movie was unfolding on the screen – a Jedi in traditional robes fighting a group of Sith in a dark temple.
"Alex!" Garrek waved his fork in greeting, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Just in time. I'm on a break, watching this cinematic masterpiece." He gestured with his fork towards a free chair. "Want to eat? I have Nuna stew with vegetables here – indescribably delicious."
Alex looked skeptically at his uncle's plate. The "stew" was a brown mass with pieces of indeterminate color and shape floating in it. The smell was... peculiar.
"Thanks, I've already eaten," he replied quickly, sitting down next to him. "Uncle, did you know I saw a real shootout on the way here? The city guard was storming some ship at the far docks."
Garrek chewed another portion of his stew and chuckled.
"It's a common thing, kid. Fools who think they're the smartest are always caught." He pointed his fork at the screen, where the Jedi was deflecting attacks from several opponents at once. "Just like in the movies – they think they're elusive, but in reality..."
"But in reality what?"
"In reality, they're always caught for the same thing – looking for a buyer." Garrek put down his plate and turned to his nephew. "Remember, if you ever decide to dabble in something like this – and I hope you won't – start by looking for a reliable buyer through trusted acquaintances. First, the sale, then the goods, not the other way around."
Alex listened attentively, memorizing every word.
"And these idiots," his uncle continued, returning to his food, "probably stole something or smuggled it in first, and then started looking for someone to sell it to. That's where they got caught. The buyer turned out to be a plant, or someone in the chain sold them out to the guard for a reward."
"I see," Alex nodded.
"Although," Garrek laughed and winked, "I'm just kidding, of course! Hahaha! We're law-abiding citizens, right? Let's watch the movie instead, the most interesting part is just starting."
On the screen, the Jedi – a middle-aged man with a tired but determined face – was fighting his way through an ancient Sith temple. His name was Master Kaine Darrou, and he was searching for a kidnapped Padawan among the labyrinths of the dark fortress.
"I feel your fear, young Jedi," said the main antagonist, a Sith Lord in black robes with a red lightsaber. "It makes you weak."
"Fear is a natural reaction," Darrou replied calmly, blocking his opponent's attack. "But I will not let it control me."
"Your Padawan is already dead. You're too late, as always."
"Perhaps," the Jedi replied imperturbably, continuing to fight, "but even if that's so, you still won't get out of here. I saw what you did to the villagers."
The screen showed a flashback – burned houses, bodies of civilians.
"You can't stop me, Darrou. I have an army, and you only have an old lightsaber and a fading Force."
"I have something else," the Jedi made an unexpected lunge, and his blade passed through the Sith's leg. "Patience. And a good memory of your weak spots from our last encounter."
The Sith Lord fell, clutching his injured leg.
Uncle Garrek snorted with laughter.
"What pathos!"
"And why can't he just heal himself with the Force?" Alex asked.
"Because! Then it wouldn't be interesting. Turn off your brain, just watch!" the uncle replied. "Now there will be a scene of rescuing the Padawan."
Indeed, on the screen, Master Darrou found his student in the temple's dungeon – a young man, beaten, but alive.
"Master..." the Padawan weakly uttered. "I thought you wouldn't come."
"I always come for my students," the Jedi replied, cutting through the shackles with his lightsaber. "Can you walk?"
"I think so. And Lord Valkor?"
"No longer a problem. At least, not until he finds himself a good prosthetist."
At that moment, the workshop's communicator rang. Garrek reluctantly tore himself away from the movie and activated the connection.
"Garrek's Workshop, hello," he said into the microphone.
A strange voice came from the speaker – too high-pitched, with unnatural intonations, as if the speaker was using a voice modulator.
"Good day, Master Korren. I've heard about your... special abilities in working with non-standard droid models."
Garrek tensed. Such a start to a conversation usually meant a problematic client.
"I'm listening. What model are we talking about?"
"A protocol droid of the 3PO series, but with significant modifications. It requires complete technical maintenance and... delicate adjustment of certain systems."
"Can the droid be brought in for diagnostics?" Garrek asked.
"Of course, but there are certain... peculiarities that should be warned about in advance."
The voice became even stranger, with metallic undertones:
"The droid is in deep sleep mode, but its security systems remain active. Improper handling may result in... an undesirable reaction."
"What kind of reaction?" Garrek exchanged glances with Alex.
"The built-in self-defense system includes a compact laser emitter disguised as an optical sensor. In case of detecting a threat, it activates automatically and can burn a hole in the forehead of a potential opponent."
Garrek whistled.
"I see. So, it will require extremely careful work."
"That's precisely why I'm contacting you, Master Korren. Your reputation says you know how to handle... capricious clients."
"When do you plan to bring the droid?"
"Tomorrow evening, after the official institutions close. Let's say, at twenty-one hours local time. Will that work for you?"
"It will. But I'll warn you right away – working with such systems is expensive."
"Money is not a problem. I have only one request – follow the maintenance protocol strictly, which I will provide along with the droid. Don't go beyond that, don't try to study additional systems or look into hidden memory sections."
There were threatening undertones in the client's voice:
"I hope we understand each other?"
"Absolutely," Garrek replied. "We work only according to the agreed protocol, no improvisation."
"Excellent. See you tomorrow, Master Korren."
The connection broke. Garrek scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Interesting client," he muttered. "A protocol droid with a laser weapon in its head. Such modifications cost a fortune."
"And what could be so dangerous in its memory?" Alex asked.
"Anything. Compromising recordings of conversations, access codes to secret systems, coordinates of hidden bases, lists of agents..." Garrek shrugged. "In our business, it's better not to know too much. The client pays for the service, we provide it, everyone is happy."
He turned back to the holo-screen, where Master Darrou was leading his Padawan out of the collapsing temple.
On the screen, the Jedi and his student reached the exit just as the temple began to collapse.
"Master," the Padawan asked, "what if Lord Valkor survives?"
"Then we will meet him again," Darrou replied philosophically. "Such is the nature of the conflict between light and darkness – it never truly ends."
"Looks like there will be a sequel," Garrek commented. "The movie is generally quite predictable."
Alex laughed, but his thoughts were occupied by tomorrow's client. A protocol droid with military modifications, secret information, threats... It sounded like the beginning of another adventure. And he wasn't sure if he was ready for such adventures.
"Uncle," he said cautiously, "maybe we should refuse such an order? It sounds too risky."
Garrek pondered, looking at the screen where the heroes were walking away against the backdrop of the setting sun.
"You know, kid, in my business, risk is part of the job. But you're right, we need to be careful." He turned to Alex. "You'll stay home tomorrow. This job is not for teenagers."
"But..."
"No 'buts.' Some clients and their droids are too dangerous even for an experienced master. And even more so for a curious boy."
Alex wanted to object, but he understood – his uncle was right. He wasn't ready for such serious risks yet. But someday...
The final credits appeared on the screen with calm music.
"Not a bad movie," Uncle Garrek concluded. "Not a masterpiece, of course, but watchable. At least the Jedi behaves reasonably, not just waving his sword left and right."
Alex nodded in agreement.
Two days later, Alex returned to the workshop, burning with curiosity. Uncle Garrek was working on a regular household droid, but his face showed fatigue and some tension.
"Uncle, how was yesterday's work?" Alex asked, barely stepping across the threshold.
Garrek looked up from the workbench and grinned.
"Ah, you mean our mysterious client? It was an interesting job, I must admit." He put down his tools and stretched. "Want to see the recording? I always record complex repairs – for my own safety and in case something goes wrong."
Alex nodded enthusiastically. Garrek activated the holoprojector, and a three-dimensional image of the previous evening appeared in the air.
The recording showed a figure in a dark cloak entering the workshop – the face was indistinguishable, but the movements betrayed a professional accustomed to caution. Behind him, a droid on a repulsorlift platform followed, covered by a thick tarp.
"Watch carefully," Garrek commented. "The client didn't even take off his gloves. Professional paranoia."
In the recording, the client pulled off the tarp, revealing a 3PO series protocol droid. But it was clearly not a standard model – its casing was dark gray instead of the usual gold, and additional modules were visible in the head area.
"3PO-X modification," Uncle explained. "A military version of a protocol droid. They were produced in limited batches for use in hot zones. Officially, such models do not exist."
"And unofficially?"
"Unofficially, they were made for special services and very wealthy paranoids. Full package of diplomatic protocols plus combat survival systems."
In the recording, Garrek carefully connected diagnostic cables to the deactivated droid. Every movement was slow and precise.
"See these red indicators on the head?" Uncle pointed to the screen. "The self-defense system is active even in sleep mode. One wrong signal – and the laser emitter will burn a hole in whoever it deems a threat."
"How did you know it was safe to work?"
"The client gave me a special access code and a detailed schematic for disabling the defense." Garrek showed on the screen how he entered a complex sequence of commands. "Seventeen steps, each must be executed in precise order. Make a mistake – and hello, afterlife."
In the recording, the droid finally "fell asleep" completely – the red indicators went out, and Garrek could begin the main work.
"And this is where it gets interesting," Uncle said, speeding up the playback. "Look at the internal architecture."
Alex leaned closer to the projector. The droid's internals were drastically different from a standard 3PO. Additional processors, reinforced armor, hidden compartments with unknown equipment.
"What are these modules?" he asked, pointing to strange cylindrical devices in the droid's chest cavity.
"I have no idea, and I don't want to know," Garrek replied seriously. "The client clearly said – don't mess with hidden systems. I only did standard maintenance: cleaning sensors, calibrating motorics, updating language databases."
The screen showed Uncle working methodically with the open systems, carefully avoiding the mysterious modules.
"But I did notice something," he added more quietly. "There are sections in the droid's memory encrypted with military algorithms. The protection level is like government systems."
"Did you try to hack them?"
"Are you crazy?" Garrek shook his head. "Such systems are not just protected – they actively defend themselves. An attempt at unauthorized access could lead to the droid's self-destruction. And half the workshop along with it."
In the recording, the work was nearing completion. Garrek carefully closed the access panels and activated the droid's systems. It slowly "woke up," its optical sensors glowing with a soft yellow light.
"Diagnostics complete, Master," the droid said in a standard 3PO voice. "All systems are functioning within normal parameters. Thank you for the quality service."
"It even speaks like a regular protocol droid," Alex remarked.
"That's its main function – disguise," Uncle explained. "Who would suspect a spy device in a regular translator droid?"
The client in the recording was satisfied with the work, paid generously, and disappeared as discreetly as he had appeared.
"Interesting job," Garrek concluded, turning off the projector. "But I'm glad it's over. Clients like that bring good money, but also headaches."
Alex looked thoughtfully at the spot where the hologram had just been.
"Uncle, can I..." he began cautiously.
"Can what?"
"Well, work here officially. After school and on weekends." The words tumbled out. "I've learned a lot watching you. And today's recording showed me that I still have a lot to learn. I want to understand such complex systems, be able to work with dangerous droids..."
Garrek studied his nephew's face intently.
"I understand your interest, kid. But working with such clients is not a game. One mistake can cost you your life."
"I understand the risks," Alex insisted. "And I'm ready to learn caution. Besides," he lowered his voice, "my parents and I could use any extra credits right now."
This was a strong argument. Garrek knew about his brother's financial difficulties.
"All right," he said after a long pause. "But on certain conditions. First – no improvisation. You do only what I tell you, and only under my supervision."
"Agreed."
"Second – I only work with particularly dangerous clients. You can observe and learn, but not participate."
"Understood."
"And third – complete confidentiality. What you see and hear in the workshop stays in the workshop. No talking to friends, classmates, not even your mom and dad."
Alex nodded seriously.
"I promise."
"Then welcome to the team," Garrek extended his hand for a handshake. "Five hundred credits a week plus a percentage of particularly complex orders. Now you have work to do. But most importantly – experience. Here you will see technologies that no school will show you."
This was true. In his first few weeks of work, Alex encountered droids he never even knew existed. Traders from the Outer Rim brought exotic models – translator droids capable of working with hundreds of dialects, medical units with surgical manipulators of incredible precision, even entertainment droids with emotional processors.
"Each model is a reflection of the culture that created it," Uncle Garrek explained, showing the internals of an elegant droid from Naboo. "Look at these lines, the quality of the materials. Nabooans create art, even when making a simple household assistant. Although they don't make them themselves, but that's for another time. They like to show off."
Alex quickly realized that his uncle's workshop occupied a special niche. Official service centers only worked with new, standard models. Garrek, on the other hand, specialized in everything else – old droids, exotic models, units of questionable origin.
The clientele was appropriate. Smugglers who couldn't go to official centers. Collectors of antiquities. Traders operating in the gray areas of galactic law. Sometimes darker personalities appeared – mercenaries, bounty hunters, representatives of criminal syndicates.
Alex saw a new side of life.