A/N:
It should be noted this is a fanfiction of a Star Wars game. I am
trying to make it sound like the hitch hikers guide, but I doubt I
did. It attempts to take a rather humorous tone, but I doubt it will
be funny.
Anyways, I wrote this a few months ago. I wanted all my writer friends to be able to laugh at how I haven't improved. At all. I tend to jump keys I type so quickly/inefficiently, so I apologize in advance for errors. I am the bane of quality control everywhere. Enjoy anyways.
X---X--X
Hyperspace knows little limitations of time. The only notice that time still exists is the chronological meter next to the navi-computer and that CD player with that Bith artist in it. Still, lest one live in space, they will grow tired and fall asleep according to some planet's daily time cycle. However, if that someone happens to be a droid, sleep is, as they say, is "unneeded and an inefficient way to recharge."
One such droid, an assassin droid known as HK-47 roamed the empty compartments of the freighter Ebon Hawk. He was a sophisticated droid, knowing almost one thousand languages and had the finest assassin protocols. HK-47 was humanoid shaped colored of rust and had menacing glowing red sensors were his eyes would be.
Despite all of these amazing devices and knowledge he had, his most awe-inspiring feature was his vast knowledge of the universe. When HK-47 was made, his creator thought it would be a good idea to give an assassin droid knowledge of a good deal of the universe. However, through a humorous twist of fate, this made the droid amazingly cynical. One such example follows,
On the dusty planet of Tatoonie, in the small city of Achorhead, a lone alien sat in a booth in a rundown cantina. This certain alien species tended to become easily depressed. He sat, staring down at his table, not noticing the party that entered.
"Okay, HK," a male human whom had entered the cantina said to HK-47. "I need you to discreetly find that Czerka employee. The administrator says she is in here somewhere."
The droid turned to the male. "Acknowledgment: Of course master! It should not be difficult to locate such a woman!" HK-47 then raised his blaster rifle. "Intimidation: Alright meatbags," he said in an elevated voice. "I demand the female meatbag Czerka employee. Resistance or failure to comply will result in fatal injury."
The once calm cantina froze. Patrons sat or stood in fear or just a stupor of what the droid was going to do.
The male next to HK-47 buried his face into the palm of his hand. "Do you know what 'discreet' means?" He asked.
"Statement: Master, I am in the middle of an interrogation! Please reference your Galactic Basic handbook! It is as the Naboo human meatbags say: 'Must I always walk you through such trivial matters?"
The human stared back at HK-47, shocked about what the droid had just said to him. "Do you see the irony in that? You do know what irony mea— Never mind. Just put the rifle down. Canderous is stealthier than you. Maybe I should have brought him."
The droid gave a shocked gasp. "Offended reply: Master! Comparing me to that—that Mandolorian! I am deeply hurt." The assassin droid lowered its blaster rifle nonetheless. "Irritated declaration: Very well master. I shall comply."
The male known as 'Master' gave an uneasy smile. "There, there. That wasn't to hard now was it?" He looked around the cantina. "Sorry everyone! Please go back to your drinks. Apologize you pile of junk!" He said, elbowing HK.
The droid looked at the human. "Very well master. Apology: I am sorry meatbags. Next time I will shoot instead of threaten." To this, the human gently shook his head and mumbled, "I need a drink." Embarrassed beyond belief, the human made his way to the bar.
HK-47 watched as his master sat at the bar. Master is unhappy with me, the droid thought. I know! I will make it up to him by helping one of these meatbags!
HK scanned the cantina looking for the most depressed life-form. Aside from his master, an alien in the corner of the bar, sitting in a booth caught his attention. HK then made his way towards the pitiful sentient. Upon his arrival, the alien took immediate attention.
"Come to insult me like the others?" the alien asked in a low, somber tone.
"Surprised reply: Of course not you hideous life form you! I have come to cheer up the most depressed meatbag to show my master how discreet I am. All I need are answers in return of my service." The droid leveled his rile at the head of the alien. "Refusal of my services is ill-advised."
The alien gasped, then searched his head for a question, any question, before his head disappeared.
"What is love?" the alien hastily blurted out.
"Love?" The droid asked.
Love, noun, a passionate attraction and desire. The droid thought. I have experienced this feeling before. Oh joy!
The droid was overjoyed. If he were a meatbag he would be grinning ear to ear. "Cheerful statement: Love is finally lining up your designated target in your rifle scope, after chasing it across the galaxy for weeks. You then level your aim from over fifty meters and then," the droid mimicked his words using his blaster rifle. "You finally pull the trigger."
The droid awaited the aliens answer. "I finally understand." The alien said. "Thank you droid, I now know what must be done."
As it turned out, the alien whom HK-47 had given advice to was trying to confess his love for a certain female. He followed the droids exact words to the letter. Now local authorities are looking for a red droid with a mocking tone in connection to the murder.
This is what happens when you turn to an assassin droid who isn't firing on all thrusters for advice.