"Right, before anything else can be done, we're going to need to clean this place up," (Y/N) said. "Something tells me that no one would be interested in buying anything from a station that is covered in bodies."
"It's a long shot," Nox said, "but you could always check some of these other compartments. Might be cleaning droids stored in them."
"Won't they be all rusty and decomposed after three thousand years?"
"We stored everything in vacuum compartments," Nox explained. "No oxygen, no oxidation."
Nox guided the boy to the maintenance levels of the station where, sure enough, there were still a few cleaning droids turned off in storage lockers. As for why the pirates never took them and sold them off or anything, (Y/N) had no idea. He pressed a few buttons on different terminals, causing those who were inactive to start whirring to life. Their eyes lit up, asking what their assigned task was.
"Clean up the bodies," (Y/N) instructed. "I want this place spotless, deadline to be determined. I have a call to make."
(Y/N) moved over to the holoterminal and searched for the holonumbers for the Republic Museum of History and the Republic Title Bureau. He decided to call the museum first, as he would hopefully be provided the money to register the station in his name by the sale of the artifacts.
Plugging the number into his holocommunicator, (Y/N) found his call answered immediately. However, the one to pick up was a droid, and not a good one based on how it looked. It looked like it hadn't seen a repair shop since the time of Nox.
"Welcome. Thank you for calling the Republic Museum of History. If you wish to schedule a tour, please say, 'Tour.' If you would like to ask questions about the museum's current and future exhibits, please say, 'Exhibits.' If you would like to know upcoming featured exhibits, please say, 'Schedule.' If you wish to speak to a curator, please say, 'Curator.' To return to this menu at any time, please say, 'Main Menu.'"
"Curator," (Y/N) said, annoyed.
"Understood. Our current featured exhibit is-"
"Main Menu."
"Welcome. Thank you for calling the Republic Museum of History. If you wish to schedule a tour, please say, 'Tour.' If you would like to-"
"Curator."
"Understood. Available tour dates and times are-"
"Main Menu."
"Welcome. Thank you for calling the Republic Museum of History. If you wish to schedule a tour, please say, 'Tour.' If you would like to-"
This continued for multiple hours. (Y/N) was tempted to crush the holocomm in his hand, only refraining after reminding himself how expensive it would be. Eventually, though, the droid understood what he was asking for, redirecting him to a Curator.
"Republic Museum of History, how can I help you?" the agent asked.
"I found a few things that the museum might be interested in, and want to schedule a meeting to see if that's the case," (Y/N) explained.
"Alright, and what exactly are these items?"
"Several blasters, credit chips, and lightsaber crystals, look like they're from the Great Hyperspace War," (Y/N) explained. "Don't know which side, though." A lie, but a needed one.
"Alright, do you have gloves on you?" (Y/N) nodded in affirmation. "Alright, I need you to put them on and hold one up to your communicator. We just need to make sure this isn't a con."
"Of course." (Y/N) held one of the blasters up, as well as one of the crystals, then a credit chip. The agent appeared satisfied, as she began typing something on her computer.
"Alright, I have our Great Hyperspace War Director's schedule up here, and it looks like he should be available in around three weeks. Does that work?"
"It should. I'll send you coordinates for the meetup."
"Perfect, I'll get these forwarded to the Director. If this haul is as big as you claim, I'm sure he'll want to investigate personally."
"Alright, I look forward to it," (Y/N) said, hanging up the holocall. He turned to the station intercom and pressed the button to send his voice. "Alright, droids, we have a deadline. We have three weeks to make this place look at least decent enough for a director visit!"
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Three weeks had passed. (Y/N) had spent this time working on the public levels of Port Nowhere, making them more presentable. By now, it looked like less of a smuggler's hideaway and more like a place of legitimate business. The bodies of the pirates had been placed into faulty escape pods and jettisoned to the planet below, while renovations had managed to allow for a grand entrance on the hangar ring. He had also found a terminal that would allow him to change what the designated task of each droid was, so now he had a few working various places including traffic control, bartending, and various other required tasks. Suddenly, (Y/N)'s holocomm rang. It was the ATC droid.
"What's going on?" (Y/N) asked the droid.
"The Director of the Museum has arrived. How shall we greet them?"
"Dispatch the security droids, but remember," (Y/N) cautioned. "They are our guests. Send them only to act as protection for the director, in case there was anything dangerous we missed."
"Of course, my lord. Where shall we escort them?"
"My office," (Y/N) said. "I have what they want in there."
"At once." The droid hung up and (Y/N) began to make his way towards his office, which was once the Junker Queen's throne room. While it was still very cold and metallic, something he'd have to look into after he gets paid, it sufficed for now. In crates along the circumference of the room were all of the artifacts he was selling, ready for pickup by the Director. There was an open crate in front of each pile, the best-looking ones inside of them for the Director's inspection. (Y/N) sat behind his desk terminal and waited for the Director's arrival.
(Y/N) didn't have to wait long, as the elevator chimed shortly after. Inside was a short, portly little Rodian, a translator droid right next to him. He took a look around the impromptu office, an unimpressed look on his face.
"Ah, you must be the Director," (Y/N) said, rising to his feet and moving to give the Rodian a handshake. "Please, forgive the state of the station. I only just cleared it out of its previous piracy-inclined residents."
"Rodicana?" the Rodian asked.
"Cleared out?" the droid translated.
"They tractor beamed my ship and attempted to perform less than savory acts upon my person," (Y/N) lied. "I was forced to defend myself, and well, one thing led to another." The Rodian nodded, a look of sympathy on his face.
"Onichacka. Koti Karanae?" the Rodian asked.
"Of course. Shall we get down to business?"
"By all means. Let's."
The Rodian put a pair of gloves on his hands and walked over towards the open crates of artifacts. He picked up one of the credit chips and inspected it, placing an eyeglass over one eye to more closely examine it. Once he was satisfied, he moved on to another, coming to the same conclusion. He placed them down before saying some words, which his droid helpfully translated.
"These credit chips are genuine, but use very similar technology to modern ones, just in different denominations. We would be willing to give you twice their face value for them."
"That makes sense," (Y/N) sighed. Most preferred digital currency when not in the outer rim, so them not evolving much added up. "I believe that comes out to around three million credits, and I doubt you want to go through these crates to get an exact number." The Rodian made a noise which the droid translated as being in the affirmative. The Rodian moved on to the lightsaber crystals. (Y/N) had mixed them after taking a few for himself, hoping to milk every possible drop from the transaction. All the ones in the open crate, however, were real.
"Interesting," the droid said, translating the Rodian's mutterings. "Very interesting."
"These crystals were being prepared for shipment to Ko- er, Morriban for Sith acolytes to make more lightsabers, as well as the blasters to Alderaan to assist in the ground conflict there. We recovered a shipping manifest saying as much. It's on this holopad if you wish to observe it." Said manifest was fake, but the fake was old enough that it wouldn't matter. After inspecting the manifest and having his droid perform some kind of process to determine the manifest's age, the Rodian made a noise, which the droid translated as an offer. One hundred million credits for all of them. (Y/N) agreed, as he wanted to get rid of them.
Moving on to the blasters, the Rodian picked one of them up and looked down the sight. Satisfied, he opened the chamber to examine the inner circuitry and mechanisms. Satisfied with that, the Rodian moved on to another one, repeating the process. He made a noise of another offer, which the droid translated.
"Five hundred million credits for the entire inventory," the droid offered. (Y/N) was blown away by the amount. The Republic was strapped for cash as it is, how could they afford to offer this much?
"Our division has been allocated twenty trillion credits for this galactic cycle," the droid explained. "What you have here is enough for us to run an entire exhibit on the Sith Empire and their military methods and aims. This price is only fair."
"Well then, I suppose it's a deal." (Y/N) reached his hand out for a handshake, which the Rodian graciously accepted. Shortly after, (Y/N) saw the credits appear in his accounts. "I shall have my droids assist in moving the inventory to your ship, Director. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."
The Rodian nodded his head before heading back down the elevator, a group of droids behind him carrying the crates. Nox appeared next to (Y/N), a grin on his face.
"Well, it's a start," Nox said, crossing his arms. "So, what now?"
"Now, we get this place registered with the Republic, and then we get this place running."
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IDK how much this really matters, but those figures were not pulled from my ass. I literally looked up how much the Republic spends per galactic cycle, and it's supposedly something like 6.3 sextillion credits. Then, I checked how much the US government gives the Smithsonian and did a similar fraction for the Republic, which came out to 233 quadrillion. Then I estimated how many departments such a place might have, and came up with the twenty trillion figure per department.