The warehouse smelled of ozone, durasteel, and something faintly chemical—probably the droids' lubrication. I carefully laid out the components I had gathered: a medley of training droids, a set of lightsaber parts, rare metals, circuit boards, and a small holoprojector. Today's task: assemble a functioning holocron and bring Ethan online.
I muttered to myself as I began soldering and connecting circuits. "Let's see if we can make you useful, old friend… or at least not a fire hazard."
A soft, mechanical hum echoed as Ethan's systems powered up. The Enhanced Tactical Humanoid 3rd Revision stirred, its optics flickering from red to gold. Its voice module activated, and it spoke with a casual, almost sardonic tone.
"Well, finally. I was beginning to think you were going to leave me here forever. You owe me at least five cups of oil for the suspense," Ethan said, his tone halfway between exasperation and amusement.
I grinned despite myself. "You have a sense of humor already. That's… promising."
"I'm not just promising—I'm *legendary*," Ethan replied, stretching his metallic arms and making an exaggerated bow. "Although I must admit, the smell of solder is positively nostalgic. Brings back memories… of circuits, fire, and certain… mistakes."
"Right," I said, focusing on the holocron. "Today's priority: I need a holocron for communication reference it should theoretically work after all its powered my a memory crystal which is basically my personal thoughts powered by the force into a small crystal. Something small, portable, but capable of storing historical archives, battle simulations, and tactical projections. You'll be my companion, Ethan. Your functions? Surveillance, tactical analysis, protection… and the occasional sarcastic commentary, apparently."
Ethan tilted his head. "Ah, finally! The trifecta: keep you alive, make you look smart, and insult everyone else for dramatic effect. I like it."
I smiled faintly. "Glad you approve. Let's start with the holocron. I've already designed the encoding circuit using corto
sis fibers for resilience. If this works, it can store thousands of battle simulations and historical archives, fully accessible in the field."
"Wait," Ethan said, his optics narrowing slightly. "You mean to tell me you're building a Jedi *library* I can carry? And somehow you expect me to not accidentally trip over a Sith artifact or a lightsaber in the process?"
"That's why you're my assistant," I replied calmly. "You'll handle tactical analysis, reconnaissance, and fieldwork. I do the brains. Mostly."
"Mostly?" Ethan mocked lightly, folding his arms. "I detect modesty. I like it. Don't worry, boss—I can carry that ego along with the rest of your fancy circuits. Probably add a filter for sarcasm, too. Very helpful in Jedi temples."
I laughed, shaking my head, and focused back on the holocron. It was delicate work. Cortosis fibers needed careful layering; the encoding matrix had to be precise, or the storage would fail. Hours passed in near silence, punctuated only by Ethan's commentary.
"You know," he said, tilting his head as if pondering a serious philosophical question, "for a guy who's supposed to be some kind of war genius, you've got remarkably sticky fingers. Very… human."
"I'm not human," I reminded him. "Just… borrowed a body with memories. And yes, it's messy."
"Borrowed, huh? Makes sense. I guess that explains why you keep talking to yourself so much," he replied casually. "Also, very dramatic. Very Rengoku."
"What?" I asked.
"You have that Kyōjurō flair," Ethan said with a smirk. "Brash, confident, emotional fire under calm control. I like it. Makes your strategic rants less boring. Also, warning: if you overdo the fire metaphor, I *will* call you a pyro-Jedi."
I ignored him, completing the last circuits and inserting the holocron's core crystal. "Done. Now, let's bring you fully online."
Ethan's optics flickered again, this time with a steady, amber glow. The voice softened, less sardonic. "All systems nominal. Tactical databases online. Memory banks calibrated. Subroutine 'sarcasm module' fully operational."
I exhaled. "Good. Now we can start planning. First step: finding the location for training younglings, gathering historical and strategic archives, and beginning reconnaissance missions. We need knowledge of Sith artifacts, tactical terrain, and the movement of both Separatist forces and potential allies.
"Branch outward, huh?" Ethan said, stretching. "I like it. Sounds dangerous. Fun. And I hope you realize—if you fall into a trap, it's on *you*. But don't worry, boss. I've got your back. Mostl!".
"Mostly?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Mostly," Ethan confirmed, with a grin I could almost see in his tone. "I'll let you do the dramatic speeches. I'll handle the heavy lifting, scouting, and keeping the sarcastic commentary alive. Deal?"
"Deal," I said, closing my eyes for a moment. "We're partners, Ethan. You'll keep me alive. I'll keep us moving forward."
"And one day," Ethan added, "I'll probably make you look heroic while I do all the actual work."
"Fine. But for now, let's focus. First, the holocron. Second, learning everything we can from it. Third, recruiting the youngling Tano. And fourth…" I paused, a spark of determination lighting my eyes. "…winning this war, in whatever way I can."
"Sounds like a plan," Ethan said, settling into a ready stance. "Now… do you want me to make coffee, or should we start building death traps?"
I laughed. "Death traps later. Let's survive first."
And with that, our first step in the larger war had begun. Holocron complete, Ethan fully operational, and a plan slowly taking shape—a strategy that could just change everything.