Disclaimer: Star Wars: The Old Republic is property of the late LucasArts and Bioware. The characters of Yvette and Kravis are both property of tigasnake from YouTube. I just decided to use his characters because I don't have my own. Watch his channel, he's got some good TOR stuff.

One Standard Unit of Boredom

It was another tedious day of hyperspace travel. If she had felt like getting attention, Vette would have sworn loudly that she could practically feel the weight of her boredom crushing her brain… However she didn't, so she just stared at the holoscreen absently.

As it was, she was laying on her bunk in a black tank top and a matching pair of comfy pajama bottoms.

She knew she should really be getting better acquainted with her four new crewmembers, but no matter what she tried, she just couldn't find the motivation to pour herself out of her bunk. She also knew she was feeling physically fine, but fatigue and monotony were joining forces to make her body feel like a heap of jelly…

An inexplicably heavy heap of jelly. And with her petite body size, that was supposed to be impossible.

'Maybe I should try cooking something…' she thought, the concept vague in her psychologically gelatinous state, 'That trandoshan I met back at the cantina by the Nar Shadaa spaceport gave me a few pointers about making flapjacks the other day. I should try making some before I forget.'

'Nah…' her internal voice responded, rationalizing why she shouldn't, 'I suck at cooking and I can't get out of bed.'

A few minutes later, the idea of flapjacks began to nag at her.

'Man, I could really go for flatcakes right now,' the thought coming unbidden to the forefront of her mind.

'Wait, hold the communicator. I don't remember meeting a trandoshan at the Nar Shadaa spaceport. I was hanging with Taunt and the old gang.' Using a super-Twi'lekki amount of strength, she managed to lift her head up. She proceeded to scan the room for a Jedi who could have been messing about in her head, but was eager to let her head drop back on her pillow and after seeing nobody over the course of two passes, she flopped back into her sort-of-not-really-hungover state.

"Anyone there?" she said, her voice sounding whinier than intended.

When she received no response, she decided I was all in her mind.

And still there was that part of her begging herself to make flapjacks.

She flipped through a holonet pages silently for a few moments, not really reading what was on the page before dropping her datapad beside her.

"Honestly, septilibytes of information, videos, games, stories, porn, nonsense, jokes and whatever else sentient minds could come up with and I can't for the life of me think of a single thing to look at," she whined to nobody in particular, "Which is really bad because if something doesn't catch my interest in the next ten minutes…I'm gonna die."

"Y'know, if you listened to the little voice in your head, you might find something interesting," nobody in particular replied.

"Spast! Who said that?" Vette yelped, jumping as the voice pervaded the silence of the crew quarters. She landed half-off her bed and fell over in a heap. She recognized the voice very well, but her thoughts still felt like they were all stuck in thick syrup and were struggling to reach the necessary point of cognition.

'Sorry about that, I just thought you needed to wake up, so I tried to give you some motivation,' the voice inside her head continued, '…and I was hungry for trandoshan flatcakes.'

"Knew there was something funny about my thoughts there," she muttered, "So who is it? Speak with your mouth again this time."

"It's me," said Jaesa walking in from the connecting corridor smiling sheepishly, "I really am sorry though. I admit I was being kind of childish."

"Whatever," Vette answered with a yawn, returning Jaesa's smile with one of her own, as well as a stretch, arcing her back and snapping her spine out of its hunch, "I'm the last girl you should need to explain yourself to. Besides I'm at least more or less awake now. That's a dramatic improvement. I should be thanking you. Ugh…I'm still so bored!"

"My flatcake offer still stands," Jaesa chirped.

"I said—!" Vette cut herself off before she got angry, "Okay, I guess it's not fair for me to snap at you… You weren't here when I said it, but still, I'm officially on strike when it comes to domestic work."

Jaesa smirked, an expression that only got more pronounced with incredulity. "Were you—were you still a slave wearing a shock collar when you said this?"

"Yeah, so? I'm not scared of some big bad Sith Lord."

"You're either really brave, or really stupid. Either way though I admire you for it."

The teenaged Twi'lek grinned and said with a false air of self-importance, "Of course I'm both fearless and crazy. And if anyone didn't admire me—gasp!—I'd have to get their head examined. But tell me something I don't know."

The small talk burned for about a half-hour, simmered for a bit, and then died, leaving both girls in a state similar to the one that Vette was in before Jaesa had acted on her desire for trandoshan cuisine.

"You want to watch something?"

"I don't have any good holovids on my datapad. I've been waiting until I bought a decent projection unit and an external storage drive. If I can't get it in the best possible quality, then I figure it isn't worth it."

Jaesa frowned, "You're missing out. There's this great series about a Jedi padawan accused of murder during the Mandalorian Wars. While on the run, he gets involved with a Snivvian crime lord, a quirky but deadly Arkanian girl and her elderly friend, and a Mandalorian and they get into all sorts of trouble. It's an exciting but heartwarming story, and has been for three seasons, which is surprising considering that most historical dramas end up going stale pretty quickly. A new episode is airing every standard weekend for the next two months still."

"You've got my attention," Vette said, sitting up from her previous position spread-eagled on her bunk, "What's it called and what network is it on?"

"It's called Fugitive. It's on the Galactic History Network and it's sort of a spun-off prequel of another show. I think it was called Knights of the Republic. Also very good and surprisingly informative if you want to learn about the Jedi and Sith Civil Wars. And there's a second series."

"How long are the episodes?"

"An hour, though specials are aired occasionally and those are two."

"Okay, so that's Knights of the Republic, Two,and Fugitive that I need to download after getting the external drive," Vette enunciated slowly, typing the titles into her datapad.

"Anything good to listen to?"

"I kind of want to listen to Average Brown Wookiee, but it's not on my pad."

"Just look it up on a video site: I'm sure that someone's posted it somewhere."

"Good point," Vette exclaimed, perking up, typing her search into her datapad, "Let's see, gee are enn dot metaholo dot conn, okay… Av-er-age…Br-own…Wook-iee…" she said, pronouncing each syllable separately as she input her search, "And there we go."

"So," Jaesa asked, "is it there?"

"Yupyup! Aaaand select!" she leaned back into her bunk as her datapad produced the funk tune. She was going to lay back and enjoy some easy listening when she noticed something interesting being played on the datapad's holoprojector. Judging by Jaesa's reaction, she saw it too.

"Is that…?"

"No way…"

"That's a breakdancing wookiee…"

"This'd be a laugh riot," Vette nodded, "but boy! Just look at him go!"

"Wookiees are heavy! Is this guy even for real?" Jaesa asked.

Vette tilted her head, "I'll check the description." The music kept grooving and she gaped. "He's real. His name's Domokwookrr."

The wookiee did a sudden string of back flips and Jaesa clapped her hands together. "Okay, I need his autoprint. Where can I find this guy?"

"Why? You can do anything that he can. You're a Jedi. Aren't acrobatics kinda just built in benefits for you guys?"

Jaesa frowned. "Maybe I can, but I couldn't with his body type, and I could never look this good while doing it."

"Put on one of those sexy outfits you wear to the Nar Shadaa canteenas and say that again in front of a panel of judges. They'll disagree. Also, I've watched you do your lightsaber katas before. No offense to your master, but those are the kind of performances that I'd pay to see. I mean Kravis is great and all, but when it comes down to the actual presentation, you're way more fun to watch."

Jaesa gave her a look, one corner of her mouth twitching up ever so slightly, "Are you coming on to me?"

"What!? No! Don't take it the wrong way! Eww! So eww!"

"Don't worry, I'm not into—Woah!"

Vette watched intently as the wookiee bust out another move, leaping into the air from a somersault and landing with a cartwheel before rolling backwards again.

They heard the door to their quarters slide open and turned to briefly acknowledge the existence of their visitor before refocusing intently on the dancing wookiee.

"Hey girls," A black haired man with a neatly trimmed moustache said, knocking on the wall near the door, "Yvette wanted to—Oh, sweet mother of Alderaan, please tell me you're not watching a music video."

"Hey!" Vette snapped, "This is beyond awesome, take a look."

"I see the wookiee, but Yvette'd like your help with something involving your Sith friend—woah, that wasn't half bad."

"Wait, who are you again?" Vette asked.

"The name's Doc."

Jaesa shook her head. "Really? I thought it was Archiban."

Vette looked at him blankly. Before breaking out in a huge grin, "Okay, no way I'm calling you 'Doc' when you've got a name that good."

"I just know I'm going to hate the two of you," Doc groaned.

"No, but I'm flattered," Vette replied, intentionally missing the point.

"Okay, the dancing wookiee is no longer enough to keep me in here. I'm out. I'll tell Kira to get you."

"Good luck Doctor Kimble!" Jaesa called after him as he stalked off down the ship corridor, hearing an agonized 'gah!' from down the hall as she said the name.

"He must really hate his name," Vette said observantly, pausing the music video and freezing the wookiee in an awkward position, leaning back far enough for his head to touch the ground.

The Jedi stood up and walked over to the wall panel with the door controls on it and closed it before turning back to face Vette.

"I wonder why…" the Twi'lek mused.

"Oh!" Jaesa held her finger in the air like a professor stating a fact during a lecture, "I was talking to Yvette the other day, and when I asked about the two of them, she said that he didn't like using his name because he was convinced it was stupid. She explained his reasoning behind it too, but I won't bore you with the details."

Vette's eyes lit up, "I wanna hear! I wanna hear! You can't just leave me hanging like that!"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh," Jaesa exclaimed in an effort to calm the uppity Twi'lek. "See, before he married her, he was a shameless flirt. And I mean shameless. You don't even want to hear some of the relationships he screwed up for himself; they're just…sad."

She paused for a moment trying to recall what the Jedi had told her.

"Go on…" Vette prompted.

"Hold on…oh yeah, so whenever he tried to pick up a girl, the moment he told her his name, they were only interested in being friends. Who wants to have a one-night stand with a guy named 'Archiban,' or even 'Archie,' right? 'Doctor Kimble' wouldn't have worked either because it made him sound like an upper-middle class medical practitioner with a boring life."

"Why didn't he just try calling himself 'Arc?'" Vette questioned, "That sounds interesting."

"I didn't think to ask, but I don't think that's a name anyway. Not to mention that 'Doctor Arc' doesn't really slide off the tongue."

"It's no less of a name than Vette!" exclaimed the mercenary, "I changed my name to what it is you know. Whatever. I don't wanna get into that. So…he just started going by 'Doc,' and that was the winning ticket?"

Jaesa shrugged, then nodded, "Uh, yeah, pretty much. No girl could resist. You have to admit that he's charming. He just tends to leave the moment things start to get serious, which means that every girl he's ever left ranks him as being just a bit more loathsome than a wriggling granite slug."

Vette's bright eyes seemed to darken just a tiny bit.

"Wow," she nodded, "That is bad."

"Yvette still doesn't know how she managed to get him to commit. But she says she takes solace in the fact that he's beyond certain that he's lost his mind and that he blames his feelings of commitment on brain damage."

"Now that's a good one. Maybe we should both hit Kravis in the head with a shovel. If Doc's theory is correct, the one of us who caused the most brain damage is the one who he'll want more.

Jaesa shook her head. "I suggest taking an easier, less volatile approach."

"Or no approach at all. I'm pretty happy with how I stand with him already."

There was a knock at their door.

"Well, at least they aren't strolling in without an invitation," Jaesa said pointedly.

"No, I'm just letting you know I'm here," their wall panel inexplicably unlocked the door, which slid open. A young red-headed woman with a diagonal scar below her left eye crossed the threshold and looked at the two other girls. "So, you're going to come with me because Yvette wants to talk to you."

"So, you're Kira, right?" Jaesa asked.

"No, I'm a talking purple gundark with orange polka dots on my back and an embarrassing glandular problem yes I'm Kira! We've been introduced already, you know."

"Yeah, don't worry. I just wanted to be sure that I was able to place the name to your face," Jaesa said hurriedly, raising her hands at her sides in an unthreatening sort of way, "I'll probably need to do it a few more times before I get both connected in my head.

Kira shrugged. "Fine by me, I guess. Sorry about the sarcasm. But I really do need you to come with me, it's important."

"We're busy," Vette said louder than necessary, quickly turning the music video back on and making the wookiee jerk his upper body back into a standing position.

"No you're not, you're watching a music video." Kira's eyes widened suddenly. "Wow," she exclaimed, "I've never lost so much respect for anyone so quickly before. Hmm, go figure."

"Okay, seriously, you need to see it though. This is no ordinary music video," Vette insisted.

The song was nearly over and the wookiee finished his routine with a pair of triple backflips and a quintuple headspin. Sliding fluidly back to his feet, he took a bow, and the song ended.

"That was impressive enough, I'll give you that. But you really need to—"

"Please, we really don't want to do any work right now," Vette complained.

Kira sighed, stood up straight, and spoke in the calmest, most hypnotic voice she could manage, "You want to follow me to the med bay more that anything in the world." She passed her hand in front of Vette's face as she finished talking.

"I want to follow—waitaminute, don't you try to Jedi mind muck me! I've had enough of that for one day,"

"Come on, you know I had to try. Look, Kravis and Yvette need your opinion on something. It's about a droid he says he salvaged a while back."

Jaesa glanced at Vette, who reciprocated the gesture, shrugging and shaking her head.

"We don't know anything about this," said Jaesa.

Kira looked back at her in steady disbelief. "Really?"

"I swear, he never told either of us about a scrapped droid."

"Now I'm just curious." Vette said, showing genuine interest. "Yeah, Jaesa, I know I was just arguing the other way, but I'm on her side now."

"I don't really have much of a choice now," the apprentice sentinel said with a shrug.

"Good, you've brought my companions," Kravis said appreciatively as Kira stepped back into the med bay followed by Jaesa and Vette.

"So, what's the story?" Vette asked, "Let's see this droid."

"It's on the examination table," Kira said, pointing to one of several tables with various medical tools attached to mechanical arms at their heads.

The droid in question was a rusty red color with a sturdy build and a slightly wedge-shaped head. It was holding something in its right hand, but neither Vette, nor Jaesa could see much through the small crowd of people standing around the medical slab.

"I'm not sure that it's safe to activate. I mean, check out those blasters. Still, I am pretty curious as to what it could have stored in its memory. If it's from the Sith Empire it might have—" Doc tried before being interrupted by Kravis.

"It's not one of ours. The only time I ever saw anything like it was in a sector of the Unknown Regions before finding this one's remains in orbit around Dromund Kaas, although Lord Scourge might be able to provide a second opinion."

The Sith Lord shook his head, but didn't remain silent. "I have never seen its make, but an old…acquaintance once told me of a droid that vaguely matches this one's description."

"And who might that have been?" Kravis asked.

"You can ask Yvette if you are truly curious, but I do not feel the need to regale all of you with any 'grand adventures' from my distant past."

"Fine, be mysterious," Vette replied impishly, failing to get any sort of reaction from the stoic Sith.

"Now Vette, you know better than to goad the Sith who was once the Emperor's Wrath," Kravis admonished.

"I know…" Vette replied meekly.

"Well it's obviously a war droid," Kira deduced, "considering it's construction…and, you know, those gigantic guns and all. It's got the words 'heavy weapons' written all over it."

Vette finally decided that she needed to have a look at the guns that the other's were talking about and pushed her way to the front of the group.

"Woah, you weren't kidding!"

It had a heavy Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope attached to a panel on its back and was clutching a Mandalorian heavy repeating blaster in one of its hands. Built in to its arms were a heavy duty flamethrower and a stun ray, and it had a number of slots in its chassis that looked roughly the same size and shape of some of the more effective blaster pistols that Vette had in her datapad's wish list.

"Can't say I've ever seen one of those before." Vette said, "I say we should turn it on though, I mean with all of us here, what harm could it possibly do? I mean, three Jedi, two Sith, a battlefield doctor and a merc?"

Tee Seven whistled indignantly, shifting its weight from one leg to the other.

"And our astro droid…who I'll, uh, never forget in future," she added hastily.

"She makes a valid point," Yvette affirmed, nodding. "Then again, Vette, you did just utter some famous last words."

"If it's any consolation, best case scenario is that we get a free droid. So, I'll have this thing up and running in two minutes, let me just get to work…"

She began messing about with a few panels in the droid's chassis. Three minutes passed but she was still going strong. Four minutes, then five minutes, ten minutes, fourteen minutes. They passed for Vette in the blink of an eye.

"Uh, Vette—?" Yvette started nervously.

"Hold on, I've almost got it."

"No, really, Vette, you might want to—" Yvette insisted.

"I said hold on!"

"Demand: Unhand me, you incompetent meatbag! How dare you even attempt to perform maintenance on me without my permission! Get your hands out of my inner workings or you will learn the hard way that toying with me has side effects. These including burning, blasting, and spontaneous nonexistence!"

Vette looked up in astonishment and found herself staring into the angry red photoreceptors of the very active droid.

The droid continued, sitting up and hoisting its heavy repeater up to aim at all of the room's occupants in turn, "Statement: I am HK-47, personal assassin droid of Emperor Malgu-gu-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga…

"Revulsion: Who has been tampering with my systems?! I most certainly do not work for some pathetic usurping Sith Lord who cannot even breathe without a machine to assist him!"

"Well, this is certainly interesting," Yvette mused.

"Query: If you do not mind me asking, what kind of deranged amalgamation of meatbags is this supposed to be? I've been part of a veritable circus of miserable individuals, but I've never met any Jedi traveling about the galaxy with Sith."

"Is he actually calling us 'meatbags?'" Doc asked, only half-expecting an answer.

HK-47's head swiveled to face him and replied cheerfully, "Statement: Indeed. I refer to all organic life forms with fleshy outer shells as 'meatbag.' I find it to be an accurate and suitable term with which to define most any creature, sentient or otherwise."

"What about just calling us 'humans,' or 'sentients?'" Yvette asked hesitantly.

"Extrapolation: But… those words do not accurately portray the great extent to which your organic bipedal forms are filled with water and various other slushy substances. How the constant sloshing doesn't drive you mad, I have no idea. Would you prefer that used a different term? Aqueous Flesh Sentient? Liquideous Fleshbag? Perhaps you would prefer the term, Slushsack?

"Are you deliberately trying to insult us?" Lord Sourge growled, the threat in his voice chilling the room's occupants to the bone, "Because if you are, I am a comment away from calling you 'Scrap Metal,' and seeing to it that calling you anything else would be grossly inaccurate."

"Objection: You clearly possess great destructive power even within your meatbag outer coating. But please, do not destroy me! I beg you! It would be a waste of my fine programming and masterful craftsmanship. Do you threaten others often? If you do, I can already say with much certainty that I'm going to like you a great deal."

"You just called the Sith 'meatbag' again…" Doc sighed, "Either your sense of self-preservation is more faulty than you system can diagnose, or the word 'meatbag' is hardwired into your system."

"Which of you meatb- …organics…" he corrected with a complete change in tone and enthusiasm, "is my new master? While I can be certain none of you can provide me with the same array of activity given to me by my previous masters, I would very much like to have my functions put to their fullest possible use." Something in the way the rusty red droid said this sent chills running down Vette's back.

"Conditional: To be perfectly clear, both of my previous owners were powerful Jedi, and great historic figures, so do not be offended by any lack of enthusiasm that I may display in my early stages of service."

"Jedi?" Kravis mused, "Is that so? Who were they?"

"My previous master was one Meetra Surik. Some of you might know her as the Jedi Exile. My master, both before and after her was the one you know as Revan. If you would not mind, I would like to try locating him in between tasks."

There were gasps and stares from all occupants of the room, aside from Vette who felt rather clueless. No one however was more awed than Scourge.

"Surik, and Revan you say. For a short period of time, I traveled with both. I would be much obliged if you would serve under me.

"Statement: I find that to be a suitable arrangement," he paused, then continued with much less enthusiasm, "Please however, do not ask me to do menial tasks. While I am well versed in over one thousand different languages, my primary function is that of combat. Do not ask me questions, unless you mean to interrogate me. You will find however that I am highly resistant to most all methods used in the extraction of information. One of my many, diverse functions."

Kravis who had looked like he had something to say since before Scourge decided to take possession of HK, coughed into his hand to get the droid's attention.

"I'm afraid that you will not be locating your master. I killed Revan myself. He was not of sound mind when he attacked me, and though I tried to negotiate a peaceful solution, I was forced to destroy him."

"Acknowledgement: Oh, yes, I remember you now. You were that intrusive meatbag that attacked my master and I aboard the Foundry. Rest assured that I have taken a precaution against losing my master again. There is a tracking chip located just above his heart that remains active for however long that slushy palpitating organic device keeps itself functional. Perhaps I should still commend you for giving my master a better idea of what he would have to contend with in the future.

"Mockery: However, if that attack was the result of the Sith Empire's finest at his best, then I must say that the only way you could benefit anybody is by removing all of your vital organs and subsequently having your remains thrown into a capital ship's fission reactor."

"Wow…" Vette gasped in awe as her partner's face contorted, his right eyelid twitching unhealthily. "I do believe my Lord Kravis has been shut down!" she exclaimed, adopting an Imperial accent up until the last two syllables.

"Deactivate him, crush his circuit boards until they're all a fine metallic powder, smash his chassis and use what's left as shrapnel for a line of grenades," Kravis said in an eerily calm voice. His voice was cold enough to make Vette swear she was seeing her own breath. And she said so.

"Did the temperature in the room drop by about thirty degrees? I'm…uhhh…gonna go check the ship for…uhhh…hull breaches…you know, just in case."

She scampered off with the intention of making herself scarce.

"I think I'll go make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble." Jaesa grinned impishly, following the bubbly Twi'lek.

"Statement: I feel that this would be a good time to voice a strong comp-laint—!" a blue lightsaber suddenly lashed out and collided with the panels on HK's neck. "Ouch," he said apathetically, "Perhaps it would also be prudent of me to inform you that I have reinforced my chassis with two extra layers of cortosis filigree. If your lightsaber was moving at one quarter the speed of sound it would take precisely fourteen minutes and seventeen seconds for you to damage me."

"So you do have a sense of self-preservation after all. However, this lightsaber is far from being the only weapon in my arsenal."

"Statement: The abilities you gain through the Force are not quite enough to permanently destroy me. I am a marvel of craftsmanship after all; Very. Very. Very. Very. Very. Well built.

"Condemnation: Do not underestimate the power of a master assassin droid. You will not live to regret it, and the sooner you realize this, the less likely it is that the fossilized impressions of your organs will be found in three thousand years on a distant asteroid."

"I've had enough of this. I'm sure I've lost a good three years of my life in the last ten minutes just arguing with this mechanical disaster. Until I can make absolutely certain that my life is no longer finite, I have better things to spend my valuable time doing."

"Psst! You mean like me?" Vette whispered loudly as HK-47 made a remark about meatbags and their lack of persistence.

Kravis gave her an amused stare, "You're being very public about our physical relationship, aren't you?"

"I'm really bo-ho-hored…" she wailed despairingly.

"That's very nice Vette. Go be bored somewhere else or I'll start looking for the shock collar. Didn't you say you were going to check the ship for hull breaches?"

"Come on, you know as well as I do that there're no hull breaches! If there were, we'd already be depressurized bags of cold meat."

HK's head swiveled to face her upon hearing the last four words, "Correction: You are already meatbags in your present state. A change in temperature and sudden depressurization could only improve your state of existence."

"In relation to me, I mean."

Kravis groaned. "You know what, you want me right now? You can have me right now—On one condition. At the first opportunity you get, you're sneaking up on this vile appliance and dismantling him."

"Done!" Vette chirped, cheering up immediately, "Thank you! Now let's go."

"Admonishment: Stupid blue meatbag. Do you really think I cannot hear you?"

"Of course not, I just don't care."

Fin

Author's Note: Well, that was fun to write. Well, this is the first oneshot I've ever released. I'd kinda hoped I would be able to get it past the 10,000-word mark, but I guess it didn't happen. I might continue this plot at some point in an episodically, not-really-connected fashion, but it depends on whether I get another idea that'd be worth writing down. I hope that I got Light Side Vette and Jaesa right. They're friends if you go that way right? If not, I claim creative license (with some shame, admittedly), but let me know if that isn't the case.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.
Thanks for reading.

Anyway, I've gotta fly back to my lair under the mountains to enjoy my favorite pastime: sitting on a gigantic pile of gold for immeasurable hours and hoping that nobody comes to slay me, so…

This has been Draconic, signing off.