<blockquote>


    Disclaimer: Star Wars and all of it''s Intellectual Properties is owned by George Lucas and Walt Disney, This fictional work and all of it''s original characters are however mine.


    </blockquote>


    <hr>


    Jake''s P.O.V. :


    The last phrik armor plating clicked into place with a satisfying snap on Skew-02’s chassis. I took a step back, crossing my arms to admire my handiwork. There they stood—five droids, gleaming under the workshop lights, their polished surfaces practically daring the galaxy to mess with us. My heart swelled with a mix of pride and excitement, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to dance like a lunatic. But I wasn’t alone, so I settled for a smug grin instead.


    Shmi, Anakin, and Arlos had been my trusty assistants during this whole upgrade process. Shmi’s mechanical skills had grown immensely since she joined the crew; Anakin, as always, peppered us with wild, imaginative ideas; and Arlos was the reliable hand that kept everything running smoothly. Surprisingly, it was Anakin’s random, childlike suggestions that sparked some of my best innovations.


    Take, for example, the foam launcher I’d added to the Skew droids. It wasn’t exactly what Anakin had suggested—he’d been rambling about how cool it would be if droids could spit “sticky sand” like the stuff in his Tatooine stories—but it gave me the idea for a non-lethal containment tool. Then there were the stun settings for the blaster bolts on both the Skew and Nick droids. The crew wasn’t always keen on killing, and this gave us options.


    The pièce de résistance, though, was the grav-tech integration. Our adventure on Malachor V had exposed me to some fascinating gravity manipulation tech, and I’d spent sleepless nights figuring out how to adapt it. Now, both the Skew and Nick droids could modify their weight dynamically, enabling them to jump higher, slow their descent, or stabilize themselves in tricky terrain. The same tech inspired an upgrade to my gauntlets.


    The gauntlets were now phrik-plated and equipped with grav-tech functions, allowing me to push or pull a selected target. I programmed specific hand gestures as activation triggers—an elegant solution, if I do say so myself—but the system was a power hog. For now, I had to tether the gauntlets to a wearable power pack strapped to my back. Not the most subtle setup, but it worked.


    Another breakthrough came from reverse-engineering the active camouflage used by the IG droids we’d faced on Malachor V. The shimmer effect we’d noticed wasn’t a flaw in their tech, per se, but a limitation: the system struggled to keep up with real-time reflections. Blaster fire disrupted the camouflage because of the sudden light flare, not the damage itself. By adding a dedicated processor to assist the main one, I managed to reduce the shimmer. It wasn’t perfect, but the camouflage now held steady even under fire.


    As I stood there, drinking in the sight of my upgraded droids, the hum of the mobile tool station pulled me out of my reverie. The machine beeped, announcing the completion of printing the armor parts for our combat gear.


    This next project was just as exciting. While we couldn’t exactly run around the galaxy wearing Mandalorian-style armor without attracting the wrong kind of attention, we still needed protection. I’d designed modular armor pieces to cover the areas we were most likely to get hit—forearms, shins, shoulders, chest, and back. It wasn’t a full suit, but it was flexible, lightweight, and came with a few "gimmicks" I couldn’t resist throwing in.


    I turned to the others, wiping my hands on a rag. “Looks like it’s time to start assembling the combat armor.”


    Anakin’s eyes lit up, and he hopped excitedly from foot to foot. “Can I have rockets on mine?”


    Shmi gave him a stern look. “Anakin, you don’t even like heights.”


    Arlos smirked. “I think the kid just wants to look cool.”


    “Don’t we all?” I chuckled, ruffling Anakin’s hair. “Let’s get to work, team.”


    As we dove into the next phase of our upgrades, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of optimism. We’d faced some serious challenges on Malachor V, but with these upgrades, we were more prepared than ever for whatever the galaxy threw our way.


    <hr>


    The last piece of armor clicked into its designated storage case with a satisfying finality. We’d grouped the parts by their intended owner, each set customized to fit our individual needs and fighting styles. As I stood back to admire the neatly organized work, my stomach growled—right on cue.


    “Perfect timing,” I muttered, setting my tools aside. It was afternoon, and I was already looking forward to the meal we’d planned. It was rare to have a moment like this, a proper downtime after the madness that was our Malachor V escapade just five days ago.


    It honestly amazed me how much I’d been able to accomplish in such a short time. Between the mobile tool station—a find I was now convinced was the MVP of our haul—and the crew’s help, we’d upgraded the droids, started on our combat armor, and even made tweaks to the Stellar Envoy. Efficiency, thy name is necessity.


    The others wouldn’t be back until tonight. They’d gone out to meet with a fence to sell off some of our haul—stuff we couldn’t reuse or repurpose—and to strike a deal with local smugglers for additional living supplies. We weren’t exactly running low, but Kado had insisted that having a backup source was critical. “Better to have it and not need it,” he’d said, which, to be fair, made sense.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I’d wanted to tag along, but the vote had been unanimous: I was staying behind.


    “Your luck is suspiciously attractive to trouble,” Mira had teased, crossing her arms.


    “There’s always good stuff,” Kado had added with a smirk. “But it always comes with trouble as its plus-one.”


    I couldn’t exactly argue with that. The past few months had proven their point repeatedly, but still, staying behind felt like being benched.


    To make things worse, I didn’t even have the excuse of exploring to pass the time. This planet—Ord Mantell—was a total blind spot for me. I didn’t remember it from the Star Wars movies back on Earth, though I had a vague memory of it being mentioned in other media. Without my crewmates here, it wasn’t like I could wander around and gather intel without potentially inviting trouble.


    Instead, I found myself in a strange, almost nostalgic mood. I walked to the central data console in the ship’s common area and pulled up a map of Ord Mantell. The planet had a mix of bustling trade hubs, junkyards, and shady backstreets, and it reminded me a little of Tatooine, but with more infrastructure and fewer sandstorms.


    I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Guess I’ll stick to tinkering until they get back.”


    Anakin and Shmi were in their quarters, likely resting after helping with the upgrades. Arlos had retreated to the cockpit, probably keeping watch just in case. That left me with some rare alone time—a perfect opportunity to fine-tune my gauntlets or brainstorm ideas for future projects.


    As much as I wanted to complain about being stuck on the ship, I couldn’t deny the truth: they were probably right. My “luck” might just make today a lot more complicated if I ventured out. So, for now, I’d focus on the things I could control.


    <hr>


    The droids and combat armor projects were done, their final pieces secured and ready. I stood in the common area, staring at the storage compartment that housed the disassembled IG droids from Malachor V and the enigmatic bodyguard-slash-protocol droid we salvaged from the self-destructed station. The temptation to dive into either of those projects was strong. Both were goldmines of tech and mystery, but they also felt... heavy. I wasn’t in the mood for heavy.


    That’s when Anakin’s little droid companion rolled by, its unimaginative name—Zero—bringing a small, sheepish grin to my face. Yeah, I named it, and yeah, I could’ve done better. The tiny droid, with its simple design and endearing wobble, sparked an idea.


    Without overthinking it, I headed to Anakin’s quarters. “Hey, kid,” I said, peeking in. He was playing with some scraps I’d given him earlier, pretending they were parts of a podracer. “Want to help me upgrade your little buddy here?”


    Anakin’s face lit up, and his enthusiastic nod came with a smile so big it could power the Stellar Envoy. Was that a twinkle in his eye? Must’ve been my imagination.


    “Alright, grab Zero. Let’s get to work,” I said, carrying the little droid toward the tool station. On our way, I called out loud enough for Shmi to hear, “I’m borrowing Anakin to upgrade his droid playmate!”


    Her response came from somewhere deeper in the ship. “Okay! Be careful, and have fun!”


    We settled at the station, and Anakin immediately began rattling off ideas. Most of them were what you’d expect from a kid his age—fun, whimsical, and borderline absurd. He wanted Zero to blast cool air for hot days, have hidden compartments for snacks, turn into a speeder he could ride, and even take care of his “ouchies.” I chuckled at each suggestion, jotting them down mentally.


    “All good ideas,” I told him. “But some of them might need tweaking to make them work.”


    As we started, I explained the process of compatibility and size constraints, breaking it down so a three-year-old could understand. To my surprise, Anakin was surprisingly patient and curious, peppering me with questions and suggestions as I worked.


    The first upgrade was practical: I added small vents for a cooling system. It wasn’t powerful, but it could emit enough cool air to make a hot day bearable. Next were hidden compartments—one for snacks and another for small tools or trinkets. Anakin’s face lit up as I showed him how to open and close the panels.


    But the big-ticket upgrade was the speeder idea. Anakin wanted a rideable droid, and who was I to deny the kid his dream? I designed folding parts that could transform Zero into a floating speeder bike. It took some effort to integrate safety features, like a harness, stabilizers, and a weight sensor to prevent accidental tips. As I tightened the last bolt, I couldn’t help but grin.


    “There,” I said, stepping back. “Zero’s now officially the coolest ride on the block.”


    Anakin cheered, hopping onto the transformed droid for a test run. It hovered smoothly, and the safety features kicked in just as intended. I made a mental note to add a speed limiter; no way was I going to risk Shmi hunting me down because her kid got a broken arm riding a souped-up droid.


    Not all of Anakin’s ideas were workable, though. He wanted Zero to split into copies, which was theoretically possible using holographic tech, but the energy requirements and limitations made it impractical for something this small, and the copies will all be blue. Then there was his dream of a droid that could transform into a giant mech or summon one.


    I chuckled at that. “Buddy, trust me, I’d love to build a giant robot. But the materials, power supply, and storage space? Not happening anytime soon.”


    Surprisingly, Anakin took the news in stride, though he was visibly disappointed. No tantrums, no fuss—just an exaggerated sigh and a shrug. For a moment, I marveled at how mature he could be, despite being so young.


    It hit me then: I was having a legitimate discussion about engineering feasibility with a toddler. If someone had told me this would be my life a year ago, I’d have laughed in their face. But here I was, arguing the logistics of holographic decoys and giant mechs with a kid who wasn’t even four - My life is weird.


    By the time we finished, the sun had set, casting a soft orange glow through the ship’s viewport. Shmi appeared just as I was tidying up, calling Anakin for bedtime. “Come on, sweetheart. Time to get ready for bed.”


    “Okay, Mom!” Anakin said, grinning ear to ear as he showed off Zero’s new features.


    Shmi gave me a warm smile. “Thanks for keeping him entertained.”


    “Anytime,” I said, watching as she guided Anakin toward their quarters.


    As if on cue, the rest of the crew returned, the sounds of boots and muffled voices filling the ship. Mira’s laughter, Kado’s grumbling, and Davik’s occasional quip told me their errands had gone smoothly.


    It was a good day—a rare, peaceful day. And as I stood there, tools in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride. Maybe I was still the guy with “trouble magnet” luck, but today? Today was all about the little wins.


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