Finally, his wait was over. HK-47 could finally proceed with his mission and conduct unadulturated violence upon insidious meatbags. At first when he saw the force manifestation of his old master. He was shocked, bewildered you might say. Yet there was a familiarity once his master spoke which triggered his immediate obediance. There was just one problem; he was a droid and thus no connection whatsoever with the Force. Yet he could see and hear a manifestation of it. It was something so trivial, should he address these force manifestations as ghostbags instead of meatbags since the idiom was no longer viable?

Nevertheless, he had a mission and he intended to see it through despite the ship being burried in some desolate desert. Power has been conserved for optimal performance and adjusted to convert the unbarable heat and humid conditions to power the vital systems. However the Ebon Hawk wouldn't be able to fly again anytime soon, probably never considering they've been here for thousands of years. So far the plan was to use the undamaged communication array to transmit a distress signal in a morse code for SOS. It would prompt to whatever meatbag authority to eventually investigate and hopefully dig him up. There was just an unknown factor – how does this backwater world of underdeveloped meatbags react to artifical intelligence? The Internet has provided some insight through works of fiction and entertainment but it was still inconclusive.

Regardless, the meatbags ought to be gullible enough to fall for the protocol droid act. It was just the matter of his armaments. His design was ofcouse infallible and thus could conceal a number of them with the exception of his disruptor rifle and blasters which is unfortunate. He was confident though that he could perform the plan to perfection. However should the meatbags just start shooting at him; then he would've an excuse to terminate them with extreme prejudice.

Hours went by until finally it happened. Meatbags had arrived on site and commenced with their search and eventually survey once they notices the spike of activity. So they start diggng which quite frankly took a while. Not that HK-47 gave a damn, he had waited for thousands of years. If there was anything he knew – it was patience. The thrill of the hunt which made his processors hum with anticipation. The cealling hatch opened and he could hear the voices along with the rush of fresh humid air fill the vacuum inside the ship. It was voices of disbelief. "Incredible. I think we've made the found of the century. Call the Colonel, he'd want to see this." said a voice, estimated to a male meatbag.

The meatbags was slowly and steady searching the ship. HK-47 had made the calculation had right after they rendevouz at the holo-termninal. There were several armored meatbags with slugthrowers along with an unarmored bald meatbag with glasses and a weird suit with an even more weirder thing around his neck. "Joyful Exclamation: At long last rescue!" The sound of his vocabulator caused the meatbags to raise their slugthrowers and flashlights right at him.

"Whom are you, identify yourself." the wierdly dressed meatbag in glasses demanded, obviously playing by the book as expected from someone making first contact with a droid. All the same, it wasn't a direct hostile reaction.

"Answer: I'm HK-47. A protocol droid programmed for communication, mediation and to – put an end to hostilites." HK-47 responded cooly as the flashlights lit his rusty-clad chasis and his response seemingly put the lead meatbag at ease but the tension was still there from the other meatbags. "Addendum: It would be my pleasure to answer any question you may have."

"You're a robot?" One of the armored meatbags inquired, causing the unarmored to cast a glare whereupon HK-47 tilted his head slightly to firmly set his gaze upon him with his photoreceptors.

"Query: What's a robot?" The meatbags shared a look between each other, quite apprehensive if HK-47's estimation was accurate.

"Well, you are."

"Correction: I'm a Droid. D-R-O-I-D." HK-47 voiced as he pronounced the letter independently. Why couldn't these meatbags get it into their head that he was a droid and not one of their lousy excuses of a droids.

"Nevermind that, what is this vessel?" The unarmored meatbag asked – the way the armored meatbag composed himself underneath the glare told him enough. The unarmored meatbag was in charge.

"Answer: This is a dynamic-class freighter – registration number 34-P7JK. Also known as the Ebon Hawk." HK-47 patiently answered. "Explanation: Ever since we crashed here some thirty seven centuries ago. My self-perservation protocol kept her in good condition to be used as shelter."

Unfortunately sating their curiousity seem to make them less willing to engage in hostile activity. Nevertheless, he had to make an assessment and proceed with his mission whatever the cost. They seemed puzzled by what he told them yet they maintained the discipline expected from meatbags. "Where did you come from and why are you here?"

"Answer: Ah, as you probably might have observed. We crashed." He explained while wishfully imagining ripping the lead meatbags' head off. "Addendum: I was created estimatedly four millenia ago by my master Revan in a neighbouring galaxy. Although I don't know which one." He was being truthful. He doesn't know where he and the Ebon Hawk is relatively to his home galaxy. However he would find out eventually with his resourcefullness and patience.

"Who is Revan?" Asked one of the armored meatbags. Promplty earning a glare from their leader.

"Boastful Answer: Revan was my creator. He's basically what you would call something of a legend. He turned the tide of the Mandalorian Wars and defeated Mandalore the Ultmate in single-combat." He mused with what could be compared to a sense of glee. However before he could continue with his tale – the lead meatbag rudely interupted.

"Wait, hold a moment – did you just mention the mandalorian wars?" HK-47 knew that he was onto something. He would be spared for now despite his rudely interuption. The meatbag knew something about mandalorians which could mean either two things. There's a mandalorian here on this backwater planet or two; there was someone here whom told the meatbags about mandalorians.

"Explanation: Why yes – Revan rallied the Jedi and stepped in as Supreme Commander of the Republic Forces during the Mandalorian wars. The Mandalorians were pushing and tearing the Republic apart before he stepped in and saved the Galaxy." He recited to the meatbags. The lead meatbag rudely decided to leave abruptly while talking into some primitive communication device but given the circumstances. It was a good day.

...

The Command Center was the robust and beating heart of SHIELD operations on foreign soil. Safely away from prying eyes of both east and west. Away from scrutiny on their continent of origin. It was also in perfect position to monitor acitivties outside the US and was spearheading the effort to track down the Digital Scourge. Jarik felt apprehensive when he was requested in there. Apparently they found something they like to call an 0-8-4 meaning an object of unknown origin in the Sahara Desert. Whatever they found seemed to have given them a idea that he could be of use.

Director Fury was there and watched the monitoring duties of the analysts as Jarik stood at attention. "Thank you for coming, Avner." He greeted, underneath the helmet Jarik almost grimaced. It wasn't his real name but it was as good as any considering the circumstances.

"What spooked you to call me in?" Jarik inquired while they shook hands; not really fond of being summoned like a pet dog. However it seemed important otherwise Fury wouldn't have called him and he hadn't left the base yet to resume his operations in Africa.

"Straight to buisness. Very well." Director Fury mused before turning around and gave an order. "Show it on screen." The big monitor started to display the image of… no, it couldn't be. The Curved shape of the freighter; the coloring while fading and markins. They were unmistakable.

"That's impossible." Jarik murmured, perhaps a bit too loud as the Director snapped it up.

"So you do recognize it?"

"That's the Ebon Hawk – a dynamic-class freighter of legendary status which been missing for the last thirty seven centuries." Jarik explained.

"Good then perhaps you can confirm the droid's story aswell."

It was a statement which made Jarik's blood go cold. "What droid?" Jarik answered, a sense of apprehension dawning upon him. Fury noticed the tone of which he spoke and his face became adamant with determination.

"Looks like a human-sized robot with a rusty chasis—" The Director started to explain in a matter of fact manner but Jarik cut him off.

"Does he vocally prefix every statement with a speech conditional that describes what kind of statemant it is?" The Director didn't speak but nodded curtly in affirmation. "Then congratulations, Director. You've not just found one of the most sought after ship from my galaxy but also the ultimate killing machine." Jarik continued with an apprehensive tone.

There was a moment of absolute silence in the command center while the information sank in. "Does he pose a threat to us?" Fury inquiried adamantly as if he was expecting the worst.

"He's an assassination droid, he specializes in eliminating specific targets. If any of your operatives engages him then they're good as dead." Jarik elaborated, putting an emphasis in the word any to explain that not even Black Widow or Hawkeye stood a chance. "Even a Mandalorian wouldn't stand much of a chance. He's calculating and got aces in spades."

"Then what do you recommend?" That was a good question. HK-47 wasn't the ultimate killing machine for nothing. It wouldn't surprise Jarik if he was the Digital Scourge which SHIELD was after but he didn't need to tell Fury about that. However what did he want. If what Jarik suspected was accurate then he would've been stuck under the sand for thirty seven centuries. What disturbed him the most was the prospect of HK-47 not having any master to take orders from – something which made the droid all the more dangerous.

"We play along and see if we can figure out what he wants." He finally said in hope that it could all be solved without a massacre. Patience was the key. The Director of Shield let out a weary sigh – obviously not liking the idea.

"Fair enough. The droid and the space ship will be taken to the Sandbox. It's the closest facility and is where we keep hazardous materials." There was a brief pause before the Director spoke once again. "He'll be kept under suirveilence while you lead the investigation onboard the ship. You're more familiar with the technology but we won't be sending you alone. Hawkeye and STRIKE team Epsilon will escort you – they will wait for you at the hangar."

Jarik nodded, it was a sound plan. They used his expertise while also keeping eyes on him as to make sure he doesn't do anything behind their back. "Understood." The Director curtly nodded to one another before Jarik left the Command Center. Making his way through the corridors of security personnel and suirveillence cameras to reach the hangar. As expected a Quinjet was ready for departure. He saw the STRIKE team waiting outside but among them was a familiar face – Hawkeye.

"I thought you had left?" Jarik spoke while on approach.

"My orders were to sit tight and come after you should you go rogue." Hawkeye responded, blunt and to the point. "Anyhow, this John Bradford. STRIKE Team Epsilon's CO."

The introduction was timed well as the man in question stood between them and the ramp. John Bradford was a caucasian man with short-cut hair adhering to military principles along with a chisled jawline decorated by a stubble. "So you're the Mandalorian." He inquired with his hoarse voice. Jarik merely nodded his affirmative.

"It's alright, my ex-wife isn't much of a talker either." He recieved no laughter from that icebreaker. Not that it normally would with his no-sense attitude before he waved them over to come aboard the Quinjet. The STRIKE team as tactically geared and armed with slugthrowers – their equilivant of battle rifles. Jarik could sense it though – they didn't want to be here.

"I assume that you've been briefed?"

Hawkeye nodded in affirmative as they sat down and strapped themselves in.

"All we know is that we're heading to the Sandbox. Escorting you to investigate the 0-8-4 they found in the Sahara Desert while HK-47 is kept under suirveilence." The SHIELD Agent responded. Jarik felt the engines kick up a notch as they made their ascent into the skies. "There's a lot of trust put into you. However this is a reassurance packet in case you seek to use the ship in some manner which isn't – benefical."

"The Ebon Hawk isn't just a ship. It's a symbol. If it was found back in my Galaxy. It would the find of the milennia." The tone Jarik used broke no debate. Take it apart and you'll end up regretting it.

"It's an 0-8-4 and taken to the Sandbox. It'll be kept in containment." The response from Hawkeye made Jarik sigh as he shook his head.

"An extraterestial craft capable of interstellar flight and you'll just kept it in storage." The undertone of sarcasm didn't go over Hawkeye's head. Instead he squinted his eyes but didn't respond. The rest of the flight to the Sandbox was quiet. The STRIKE team shared a few verbal jabs against one another along the way but generally left Jarik alone.

Everyone except their Commanding Officer whom kept studying him throughout the flight. Jarik started to feel a tingling sensation towards the end of it. A presence in the force much like the one he felt back in Abidjan. Except it wasn't obscured to his senses; no he felt the presence calling for him. This sensation persisted and only got stronger when they touched down at the Sandbox.

They all rose in unision as they disembarked from the Quinjet. Jarik heard the thud above as the hatch of the land platform was sealed. Ahead of him by the doorway was his reception committee. There was two men with black suits and ties along with a few SHIELD security personnel. One of the men was of darker complexion with a clean-shaven scalp and glass while the other one was more narrow with greying hair and scrutinizing stare. "Welcome to the Sandbox. I'm Agent Blake and to my right is Agent Sitwell." The elderly agent said ever so cordially. "If you would please come with me."

With those words, Agent Blake and Sitwell turned about. Jarik supposed that quick introduction was more for his benefit rather than theirs. Hawkeye and Bradford certainly knew whom they were. They didn't bother for him to introduce himself so they certainly must know whom he is, or atleast they think they did.

They were lead through various checkpoints and corridors; frequently coming across a few other security personnel. "Learned anything new from the droid?" Hawkeye asked generally to the agents.

"So far it's co-operative despite its insistence on calling people meatbags." Sitwell answered stiffly, "It's right now under surveillance at engineering." At the last checkpoint, one of the security personnel whispered something into Agent Blake's ear. The man frowned and let out a sigh before he excused himself from their presence in the company of additional SHIELD security personnel. Jarik had no doubt that it somehow involved HK-47 which didn't really put him at ease. Yet the presence he sensed merited his full attention.

They finally reached the large container unit where the Ebon Hawk stood, held up by cranes and supporting structures. The ramp was lowered but the landing skids was evidently damaged. About a dozen SHIELD personnel was waiting for them, probably the engineers and technicians. Jarik stopped dead in his tracks. The Force was very strong here – and it was calling for him. Master Xoveth would've cided him for his reluctance and tell him to trust the Force to guide him right. Jarik couldn't help but smile at the memory of when he first became his apprentice.

The Mirakula's first lesson was for him to wear a blindfold – for a month. This forced him to rely on the Force and trust his instincts. He diligently abided by his teachings – he slept blindfolded and orientated while blindfolded. He even trained and sparred while blindfolded. The experience had given more insight of how the Mirakula was uniquely attuned to the Force – they looked human but was born without eyes.

He was taught about the ancient philosophy of Ashla and Bogan. He learned more intimatably about the Force as Xoveth's padawan than he did with his youngling clan.

Trust in the Force. The words of Master Xoveth resonated within him as he approached the Ebon Hawk. The ship of his ancestor. He was in awe, standing in its presence.

"Something the matter?" Hawkeye asked. Agent Sitwell was frowning but refrained from speaking.

"I never expected to stand infront of the Ebon Hawk." Jarik answered softly, unable to hide the sense of awe in his voice. "One of the most sought after relic from the Old Republic Era."

It was when Agent Sitwell politely coughed that Jarik snapped out of it. He then noticed how Bradford had STRIKE Epsilon secure a perimeter. Jarik had to admire how they operated; splitting up into pairs and tactically position themselves to cover each others vectors. He approached one of the engineers with Hawkeye in tow and Sitwell next to him.

"Finally." The engineer murmured bitterly with no attempt to conceal it. "Took your sweet time gawking at it."

"I'm not in the habit of humouring engineers." Jarik retorted sternly as he stared the engineer down with his visor. The bravado evaporated in an instant. "Have you made an analysis of the exterior."

"Carbon dating confirms the droid's claim that it's been buried there for the past thirty seven centuries." The engineer replied, still a bit bitter but more composed. "It's amazingly well-preserved yet there are signs of faltering structural integrity. I hazard a guess that its engines are beyond repair at this point." Jarik nodded, the engineer's analysis was solid.

"None of you have gone inside?" Jarik asked, cordially this time. The engineer shook his in a negative.

"We were told to wait for you." Agent Sitwell responded before the engineer answered. "Director's orders."

"Very well, let's get started then." Jarik said as he then took the first step up the ramp.

...

HK-47 wasn't amused. Here he was inside somesort of meatbag facility with orders prohibiting him from conducting unadulterated violence. No, instead he was in their poor excuse of a engineering bay where one of the pathetic engieeers was unable to stop to keep his hands to himself. He haven't felt this agitated than he was in the possession of that ithorian Yuka Laka on Tatooine. "Indignation: Have you gone deaf? I've told you before that I'm well capable of performing maintenance on myself like I have for the past thirty seven centuries." HK-47 said sardonically to the engineering whom just couldn't just take the hint.

"You've been inside that ship for thirty seven centuries. We must—" The engineers spoke before he was cut off by HK-47 whom stood a few paces away with his photoreceptors staring him down.

"Objection: You most certainly must not!" The urge to tear apart limb from useless limb of this infuriating meatbag becoming more appealing by the second. "I'll not have a inferior meatbag to meddle with my hardware." This went one for a while. The other engineers have taken the hint but this one with that tag on his coat, what did it say. Denvers? Well, he was certainly the most persistant of all the meatbags.

The door slid open in came another one of those strangely dressed meatbags in that black suit and that strange thing around the neck. "Denvers, what's the matter?" The man asked, he was older with a more narrow face with grey hair.

"Agent Blake, The droid isn't allowing me to perform maintenance on him." Engineer Denvers answered almost pleadingly. Agent Blake perked a brow as he turned towards the droid expecting any answer.

"Statement: I've successfully maintained myself for thirty seven centuries. I've no need for that meatbag to poke around my hardware." HK-47 said, the sardonic undertone was still present. How he wished that he could just get this farce over with so he could return to his primary function.

Agent Blake threw Denvers a glance. "Do you have any knowledge of extraterestial technology?" He simply said, Denvers looked like he was about to speak but then shut his mouth. "I thought as much. HK-47, please accept our apologies."

"Amendment: Apology accepted." HK-47 responded as he narrowed his photoreceptors. The smooth tone of the agent when he expressed his apology wasn't genuine unlike the engineers interest in his hardware. It was all too smooth ever since they reported to a Director Fury. Something was off. It was almost like they knew about his function. There was a probability that whomever told them about the Mandalorian Wars must've told them about him. He wasn't moved from the ship to communicate. No, they were keeping him here so whomever told them could get a closer look at the ship. HK-47 was left alone and went over to one of the meatbags standing in-front a computer and shoved it aside. He quickly sliced into the mainframe and was granted root access to their servers – processing terabites of information.

"Observation: Hold your processors, is that a Jedi? " HK-47 suddenly blurted out in astonishment as he watched a file from a security camera showing a Mandalorian fighting against some of the primitive meatbags with slugthrowers. He was the ultimate Jedi Killer thus he recognize their way of fighting, their stance and the way the walk. That mandalorian despite his appearance was a Jedi, his application of Ataru in close quarters combat was the confirmation.

"Why yes it is." He suddenly blurted in what could be recognized as astonishment. The meatbag which he had shoved aside was calling for assistance over the intercom. HK-47 couldn't help but feel his circuits buzzing with anticipation. Through the doors came more meatbags but now with slugthrowers.

"Statement: It's time to put an end – to hostilities."

A/N: My apologies for the delay of this chapter. A lot of things has happened in my life since the last update. It's rough but I'm managing, I've updated the previous chapters to make some corrections along with making a slight alteration to Jarik's background. Those whom have read the chapters before this update may haven noticed that instead of Rahm Kota being Jarik's Master; it's an OC Miraluka named Xoverth. I concluded that Rahm Kota wasn't ideal considering where I wanted the story to progress.

I hope to update this story with another chapter in the very near future. Until then, I wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year.

Yours sincerely,
efhb1994