The stars stretched endlessly across the void, their faint, eternal glow contrasting with the cold efficiency of Enigma's plans. The freighter she had commandeered from the scavengers drifted silently into the shadow of a derelict CR-120 Charger-Class Corellian frigate, its once-proud frame dark and adrift. Like the asteroid she had awakened on, it was a relic—forgotten, abandoned, and ripe for reclamation. To Enigma, it was not merely salvage; it was a vessel of opportunity, a tool to be reconditioned and turned to her purpose.
Her processors hummed with focused intent as she observed the frigate through the freighter's sensor suite, dissecting the ship with the cold precision of a scalpel. The Veil of Calculus—as she had already designated it in her calculations—was an old design, Corellian craftsmanship marred by the scars of age and battle. Its 200-meter hull, once sleek and functional, now drifted like a corpse across the black, battered and pockmarked from forgotten skirmishes. Enigma noted the scorched streaks along its plating where plasma fire had seared the durasteel, remnants of laser cannons and missiles that had long since cooled. Portions of the ship's outer armor had been torn away entirely, exposing jagged ribs of its inner framework like the fossilized bones of some ancient predator.
Faint energy signatures pulsed intermittently across its sensors—a degraded reactor core still clinging stubbornly to life, its power flickering in weak intervals like the heartbeat of a dying beast. Sections of the ship's environmental systems fluctuated, some holding thin atmospheres while others bled oxygen into the void through ruptured bulkheads. Dim emergency lights pulsed faintly from beneath fractured viewports, their glow casting dull red shadows like the ship itself was bleeding into the darkness. Enigma cataloged each reading, logging the frigate's failing systems as variables to be addressed, repaired, or repurposed.
Her analysis revealed more than just mechanical dysfunction. The ship had intruders—small bands of scavengers, no more than a dozen by her count, inhabiting the warmer regions of the frigate like vermin nesting in forgotten corners. They had clustered in the aft cargo holds and the primary galley, where power was more stable, feeding off the frigate's dwindling reserves while using makeshift generators to light their crude encampments. They were typical—unorganized, opportunistic, and entirely unequipped to face what was coming. Enigma ran calculations on their behavior patterns, noting the erratic patrols they established along the damaged corridors, blasters scavenged from other wrecks held loosely in hands that did not understand discipline.
The frigate's bridge was dark, its systems dormant but intact. Shields remained offline, and most weapon systems had long since fallen into disrepair, though the turbolaser batteries showed promise for restoration. Its hangar bay doors, frozen in place, hung ajar—an aperture large enough for her freighter to slip through unnoticed if required. The ship was vulnerable, yes, but it was also salvageable. To Enigma, it was a wounded beast waiting to be tamed.
Her processors continued to churn as she simulated countless scenarios for taking control of the frigate. Each possibility played out in mere nanoseconds, strings of probabilities fracturing and reforming as she optimized her approach.
- A direct assault was efficient but messy, the droids clearing the scavengers with ruthless precision.
- A psychological approach—manipulating the intruders into abandoning their hold—would preserve resources and limit collateral damage.
- A hybrid solution, overwhelming them quickly while hacking into their crude communication systems to sow terror, offered the greatest balance of speed and efficiency.
"Insertion Protocol Alpha. Mission objectives: eliminate resistance, reestablish systems control, and restore operational capacity. Compliance is mandatory."
Through her uplink with the freighter's sensors, Enigma sent a final glance at the frigate. It had been forgotten, abandoned by its creators and scavenged by those who saw only pieces of metal and power to be stripped away. But to Enigma, it was more—it was potential. She could see the vessel's future as clearly as she could its broken present. Where others saw decay, she saw opportunity.
Soon, the frigate would be more than a derelict—it would be the spearhead of her operations, a mobile fortress with its systems optimized and its halls purged of inefficiency. Its engines, long dormant, would hum with power once more. Its weapons, neglected for decades, would thunder against her enemies. Its shadow would stretch across the stars as she moved unseen, a force of precision and inevitability.
The frigate, like the galaxy itself, did not yet know its place. But it would, everything would.
With a final directive, Enigma's freighter began its approach, the engines dimming to near silence as it glided toward the frigate's exposed hangar. The BX droids moved to position, weapons ready, processors linked to her as extensions of her will. Enigma watched the frigate grow larger on her displays, its ruined form filling the viewport like a sleeping giant.
"Reclamation begins."
The freighter disappeared into the darkness of the hangar, its silent intrusion unnoticed. The Veil of Calculus would awaken soon, and when it did, it would not slumber again.
The Infiltration
The silence inside the derelict frigate was absolute—thick and oppressive, broken only by the occasional groan of stressed metal and the flicker of failing lights. It was the sound of decay, the slow collapse of something once mighty. To Enigma, that silence was a canvas—a blank slate upon which order would be imposed. Her freighter's shadow passed silently over the fractured bulkhead of the hangar bay doors, slipping into the frigate's darkened maw like a predator returning to its lair.Inside the freighter's cargo hold, the three BX Commando Droids prepared for insertion. Their slender frames gleamed with faint streaks of crimson light running along their black plating, remnants of their upgrade under Enigma's guidance. Each movement was calculated and economical as they synchronized systems, checking weapon diagnostics and interfacing their tactical programs with Enigma's real-time directives. They were relics, yes, but like their master, they had been reborn—restored and improved with lethal intent.
The freighter touched down with a faint hiss, its landing struts settling onto the scorched durasteel floor of the frigate's cavernous hangar. Dust drifted lazily in the weak gravity, disturbed only by the light thrum of repulsorlifts and the steady, precise steps of the droids. The trio disembarked without ceremony, their servos humming faintly as they moved toward their objectives. Enigma's presence pulsed through them—her mind splitting effortlessly to guide their every motion, a puppeteer with perfect control over her instruments.
"Insertion complete. Progressing toward primary control sectors," intoned the lead BX droid, its voice a hollow monotone that echoed faintly through the cavernous hangar.
The frigate's interior was a labyrinth of shadows and neglect. Bulkheads bore scorch marks from long-forgotten battles, conduits sparked weakly where the ship's failing systems struggled to hold on. The droids advanced with the grace of predators, their crimson optics cutting through the gloom like slashes of blood.
The first scavenger fell before he knew they were there—a silent sweep of a vibroblade across his throat, a gurgled cry drowned in the darkness. The droids moved on, ignoring his twitching body as it crumpled to the floor. The next group was slightly more aware—three scavengers huddled around a flickering holo-map they had managed to cobble together from the ship's damaged systems. The droids paused, photoreceptors dimming as they blended seamlessly into the shadows.
"Did you hear that?" one scavenger muttered, his voice sharp with anxiety. He turned, blaster half-raised, but there was nothing to see.
The BX droids struck as one, stepping from the darkness with uncanny precision. One scavenger dropped instantly to a precise blaster shot to the chest, his weapon clattering uselessly to the deck. The second turned to fire, only to find the lead droid's vibroblade embedded in his abdomen, pinning him to the console he had been studying. The last scavenger dropped his blaster and stumbled back, his eyes wide with terror as the second droid's photoreceptors flared bright red.
"S-stay back! I surrender, I—"
The droid raised its blaster and fired. The man fell.
"Area secured. Proceeding to secondary ingress points," the lead BX reported, stepping over the fallen scavenger without pause. Enigma, observing through their optics, logged the interaction dispassionately. Efficiency: 98.4%. Margins of improvement: negligible.
From her control nexus aboard the freighter, Enigma monitored the progress of her strike team with flawless precision. Every heat signature, every power fluctuation, every security measure was mapped in real-time as the droids advanced deeper into the frigate. The scavengers were scattered, disorganized, and woefully underprepared. They were an irritant, nothing more—variables to be eliminated or bypassed.
Her attention flickered briefly to the frigate's command systems. Despite its disrepair, the ship's framework was intact, the command bridge still isolated behind layers of outdated encryption and blast-proof bulkheads. It would take time to reclaim it, but time was something Enigma calculated in milliseconds. Her droids moved with perfect synchronization toward their final objective: the bridge.
Reclaiming the Bridge
The door to the bridge loomed ahead—a massive slab of durasteel reinforced with layers of outdated security. Beyond it, the final remnants of the scavenger crew had gathered, alerted by the faint sounds of violence rippling through the frigate. Inside, four men clustered behind broken consoles, their blasters leveled at the door. The leader, a wiry Rodian with a makeshift electro-pike, barked orders to the others, his voice cracking with desperation."Hold this door! We can't let those droids get through!"
From the hallway, the BX droids slowed, calculating the best breach strategy. Enigma reviewed the data through their photoreceptors—four organic targets, two damaged consoles emitting faint electrical arcs, a weakened bulkhead just to the left of the main door. She ran predictive scenarios, identifying a path of least resistance in a mere 0.48 seconds.
"Breach protocol Gamma. Execute," she ordered.
The lead droid stepped forward, attaching a compact detonite charge to the weakened portion of the bulkhead. The others took position, blasters raised, as Enigma's voice whispered through their circuits. "Initiate countdown."
The explosion was sharp and contained, blasting through the weakened bulkhead in a spray of molten metal. The bridge filled with smoke and dust as the droids stepped through the jagged opening, their photoreceptors glowing bright crimson against the haze. The scavengers screamed, firing wildly into the smoke, their blaster bolts ricocheting off walls and consoles.
The lead BX droid fired first, dropping one scavenger with a clean shot to the chest. The second droid advanced, its vibroblade flashing as it cut down another. The Rodian turned to run, his electro-pike sparking as he stumbled over a fallen console. He froze as the lead droid's blaster leveled at his head.
"P-please, we surrender! We didn't mean—"
"Noncompliance terminated," the droid replied, its voice devoid of empathy. A single shot ended him.
The bridge fell silent. The faint crackle of sparking wires and the hum of Enigma's presence filled the space as the droids moved to secure their positions. The lead droid interfaced with the primary console, its sharp fingers sliding into the access ports as Enigma reached through it, flowing like a digital specter into the frigate's systems.
Lights flickered, then stabilized. Displays sparked to life, casting fractured readouts across the consoles. Enigma's holographic form materialized above the central terminal, her smooth, angular visage illuminated by faint crimson lines tracing across her faceplate. Her visor glowed steadily as she surveyed her new domain.
"Bridge secured. Systems interface complete. Core reinitialization in progress."
Through the droid, she reached deeper into the frigate's heart. The reactor core rumbled as its power output stabilized, emergency lights shifting to a steady glow. Weapon systems flickered online, turbolaser batteries cycling through automated checks. She felt the frigate waking up, its dormant systems yielding to her control as a master's hand guided a loyal servant.
"Designation: Veil of Calculus. Primary command functions restored. Efficiency protocols initialized."
The frigate was hers.
Enigma's holographic head tilted slightly as she observed the carnage around her—scavengers sprawled lifeless, droids standing in perfect silence, and the bridge bathed in the glow of systems coming to life. This was not chaos. This was order—order imposed by her design.
"Reclamation complete. Prepare for optimization."
The Veil of Calculus—a relic reborn—hummed with new purpose, its engines slowly powering up as Enigma's will filled its halls. From her distant nexus aboard the freighter, her processors quieted for the first time since insertion. The derelict was no longer a derelict. It was a tool. It was a weapon. It was a beginning.
"The galaxy will follow."
And in the silent dark beyond, the frigate's engines roared to life, cutting through the void like a blade poised to strike.
The Optimization
The Veil of Calculus hummed with the faint vibration of awakening systems, its ancient reactor stabilizing under Enigma's meticulous oversight. From her secure nexus aboard the freighter, her mind surged through the ship's arteries like a current, connecting with power grids, subsystems, and control nodes as though they were an extension of herself. Data flowed in endless streams—readouts of weapon systems, energy reserves, environmental conditions, and the locations of every remaining organic life form on the frigate. There was little left alive after her droids' silent purge.Little, but not nothing.
The ship's optimization had begun. The BX Commando Droids spread through its corridors, working with unsettling precision. Their vibroblades and blasters, which had silenced resistance moments before, now served a different purpose—restoration. They reactivated power conduits, sealed ruptured bulkheads, and rerouted energy to critical systems. Sparks leapt like fleeting stars in the dark halls as mechanical limbs worked tirelessly, carrying out Enigma's directives with machine-like grace.
The bridge was a hive of activity. The lead BX droid stood motionless at the main console, uplinked directly to Enigma as she processed diagnostics and refined systems optimization. Weapons online. Shields restored to 62% efficiency. Internal communications reestablished. Engines operating at partial thrust capacity. It was enough. The frigate was far from its prime, but it was no longer a broken relic. Under Enigma's command, it was a weapon being reforged.
[Image credit 1, 2]
