It had been a long day...mercenaries, krayt dragons, mothers, bipolar Jedi. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes as they grew heavy. Carth sighed as I entered the Ebon Hawk. His own face didn't look any better—bloodshot and exhausted. We all deserved a week of sleep at least.

But we had another Star Map to find.

Before we could sleep, there was a decision to be made. Where next? Bastila thought Manaan was a good choice, but both Carth and I liked the idea of sticking to the Outer Rim. Bastila's presence on either Korriban or Manaan would draw too much attention from the Sith.

Of course, that meant another few days of travel. The hyperspace route to the planet could have been a random scribble by a five-year-old honestly. It helped when it came to losing the Sith. Bad for my potential boredom.

After Carth put in the route for Kashyyyk, I had to address the growing hunger that reminded me of its presence in the form of a growl. I collapsed at one of the tables and absorbed the food (whatever it was). That was when I was approached by Juhani. The young Cathar sighed as she sat in front of me.

"I want to apologize, Gale. I was reckless. Stupid. I wanted to prove myself to you but I shouldn't have put both myself and the mission at risk."

I shrugged. "What's done is done. It was partially my fault for making a scene at that auction. And for agreeing to your plan in the first place."

"No, you couldn't have anticipated that. I, on the other hand, made a foolish error."

"It's not like you said anything that led him to us."

The Cathar watched me with her yellow eyes as I consumed more of the fish cake thing.

"What if I had? Because I...wanted to." I swallowed my food and stared at her. Juhani leaned onto the table with her elbows while holding her forehead. "I could barely think with that collar around my neck. The Sith prodded at me. Treated me like an animal." There was a wave of pain that emanated near the Cathar. "All it did was bring up bad memories from my childhood. I wanted it to stop even if...even if I gave them what they wanted."

I lowered my fork onto the plate—the food had become bitter.

"You mean when the Revanchists saved you?"

"No, before that…" Juhani looked up from her stare down at the table. "I'd been a slave. Treated worse than dirt. When the Jedi saved me, I never wanted to go back to that dark place. With a collar…" She rubbed her throat and her gaze became misty. "It was almost worse than death."

"I'm sorry that happened to you." A small smile lit my face. "But at least it's all in the past. Now you're a Jedi. You can help people who were like you."

Juhani sneered and her voice hot. "It isn't that easy. I cannot just ignore my past, Gale. I know...as Jedi we are supposed to be detached from our emotions. But I'll never be able to forget what they did to me." She sat back with a sigh. "Some days I wonder how I was accepted into the Order. Why the Jedi Masters believed that I could bear this burden."

I picked up my fork again and my own thoughts echoed Juhani's words. Juhani and Bastila had a childhood of baggage and were accepted. I had thirty-two years of baggage and was accepted. There was this strange dissonance in their teachings. Despite the insistence that only those who started as mere infants could withstand becoming Jedi, we were accepted anyway.

The food was dry now. Stale.

"Maybe they figured that you could overcome it. Because in the end, didn't you?"

Juhani gazed at me as if I'd said something wise or thought-provoking. Honestly, it was the only reason I could come up with as to why the Jedi Masters accepted some and not others.

"Yes." The Cathar smiled then stood. "This is why I decided to speak to you about this. Your insight—"

I stabbed my fork in her direction. "Not another word."

"Is…"

"Stop."

"Inspiring."

I sighed. "Why do I try..."

Juhani let out a tender laugh. "One day you will accept my admiration, Gale, whether you like it or not." With a final small bow, the graceful Jedi walked out of the canteen.

"Apology: I am afraid I cannot comply with your command, Master, as much as I would like to."

The warm cup of caffa jolted my brain cells into high gear. Bastila insisted that I go through the forms every morning and meditate but, honestly? It was too early to be doing all of that. I needed to do something with my hands. And if that something was getting shocked by droid parts...well...I didn't say I wasn't a masochist.

Hydrospanner buzzing, I ordered HK-47 to sit and not move so that I could work without having to stand.

"Well, maybe I can fix your reluctance to comply."

"Qualification: But you are my master, Master. Did you not purchase me legitimately? Am I stolen goods? Shall I report myself to the authorities?"

"No, you... ugh ." I sat back. "I just want you to stop calling me master. It's...weird."

"Query: Is it? I was under the assumption that organic meatbags such as yourself enjoyed such forms of address."

"You just called me a meatbag again! And if I'm your master, you should listen to my orders."

I pointed the hydrospanner at HK before beginning to unscrew the rest of the panels. There I would find the memory core. With a few switch flips, it should be easy to plug him in and reprogram using a console.

"Explanation: It's just that…you have all these squishy parts, Master. And all that water! How the constant sloshing doesn't drive you mad, I have no idea…"

I stopped the spinning of the spanner. "Neither do I, come to think of it…" The thumping of my heart as it pumped blood through my veins drummed within my ears. "No, wait—"

Why am I listening to this thing?

"Statement: Now do you understand the travails of my existence, Master? Surely it does not compare to your existence, but still…"

Perhaps that would be the first thing to program out. The droid's weird fascination with the words "master" and "meatbag." Even though I found both of these quips hilarious, no one else seemed to think so. And I had to start somewhere simple. Altering a droid's vocabulary was one of the easiest tasks. Easier than prying into the memory core itself.

I opened the last panel and whistled as it revealed the parts underneath.

"This is…"

Way out of my league. Whoever constructed this droid—whether in a Sith factory or Revan himself—had more knowledge about safeguards than I. Wires curled around the mainframe and dangerous liquids sat at the bottom of the middle panel near the memory core. Any inexperienced tampering would either cause HK to go up in flames and/or make me go up in flames.

I scratched my head. "HK...is it even possible to alter your programming?"

The droid's head swiveled scarily around so that it faced me. "Objection: I would not advise that, Master. There are safeguards present that…well, it should suffice to say that my systems have been altered plenty already."

"Someone else has already tampered with you?"

"Answer: Considerably. Several of my systems do not match their imbedded parameters. I have no memory of such alterations, however, or their purpose."

Hmm...this presented a problem. I couldn't continue tampering with HK or else I may get shocked in the process.

"But why can't I just tell you to stop calling me master without trying to change it in the programming myself?"

"Explanation: Someone has hard-coded it into my system that my current master always be addressed as such. I hypothesize that this behavior was coded in by my first master."

"Right, which would be Revan." I tutted. "Evil and annoying."

"Statement: This name is not familiar to me, Master."

"Yeah, of course, it wouldn't be familiar. That would make things too easy." I grabbed the spanner and peered into the fancy parts. "Are you sure you don't recognize that name? Or are you just pretending not to remember it?"

I wouldn't have put it past the deceased Dark Lord to program something like that in a droid's behavior in order to hide who it actually belonged to. It's what I would have done if I had an evil assassin droid. Not that I would have ever want an evil assassin droid.

"Answer: No, Master. My past memory has been almost completely erased prior to your purchase of me."

"Almost completely?"

"Observation: At certain times, power re-routing forces some memory circuits to fire that were previously deleted. I cannot control where the power gets re-routed, however, or when. The restoration only lasts for a fraction of a millisecond."

"Right, and not long enough to matter…hmm..." I could force the power to re-route myself permanently. It'll take longer since I'd have to connect wires randomly, but it's better than nothing. "HK, power down all non-vital functions. If I'm going to get shocked, I at the very least don't want to die from it. Keep your vocabulator and audio receptors going. You might have to walk me through some of this."

"Affirmative, Master."

HK's lights dimmed signaling that he'd turned off his photoreceptors. A few other lights dimmed within the case though the liquid and heatsinks (which looks suspiciously like an explosive) continued to glow. The multi-colored wires tangled together in an organized mess. Where to start?

Before I could make a decision, someone trudged through the garage. Mission rubbed her arms as she walked past—lekku drooping, feet dragging. Looking absolutely miserable.

"Mission?"

The young Twi'lek flinched as if she hadn't noticed me there.

"Yeah?"

Force, even her usually perky voice sounded depressed. I didn't ask if she was alright because the answer to that was obvious. I waved at HK with a smirk.

"Wanna have your first lesson?"

Her brow raised a fraction along with the sides of her mouth. Her shoulders rose as she bounced to my side and sat. Her blue innocent eyes looked into the casing with awe.

"Whoa…" Her gaze wavered as if intimidated by HK's innards. "Uh...shouldn't we start with something easier?"

"You can take it. Besides, every droid has the same basic layout." I pointed past the...dangerous heatsinks to the meat inside. "This is the central control cluster. The three panels open up to the memory core, motor core, and battery bank. See all these wires? They all connect the battery to the various cores."

"Hmm...so it's sorta like a computer's motherboard."

"Yeah, kinda. But there are some differences." I tapped the hydrospanner on the hydraulics on HK's shoulders. "Computers don't have to move. An expensive combat droid like HK can have many hydraulic parts smashed together like these that make it flexible and lifelike. Droids like T3, on the other hand, are more like rolling supercomputers. It would be a waste to install a complicated motor core on something like that."

"Uh-huh...I see…"

Mission nodded her head. I smiled, glad that I could provide some kind of distraction from her troubles. Also, it was a rare day that someone was actually interested in me rambling on about droids. Most of my old crew...well, they were less than enthusiastic.

"Wires connect the hydraulics to the motor core which connects to the battery bank. Then, viola, HK moves. Think of it like...one big complicated puzzle that can possibly fry you if you hook up the wrong wire."

The Twi'lek blanched. "Oh...heh, yeah that sounds…"

"Dangerous?"

I smirked at Mission who peered closely at the battery bank.

"What if the power runs out in the battery?"

"Droid battery banks can last years, unless, of course, you don't do your proper due diligence." I flipped a few switches on the battery. The gauge flickered on bright green. "Looks like HK is still going strong. If this glows red, all you need to do is plug him into a station or replace the battery itself."

I flicked the gauge switch off and tried to mentally detangle the wires.

"You really know your stuff, Wes. Who taught you all of this?"

Maybe the red one...

"Hmm? Oh, my old man."

Or the blue one?

Mission didn't say anything for a while as I tried to decide on my first wire.

"Was he a super-smart droid engineer or something?" she asked.

I chuckled at that image. "No, he was just some nobody farmer. He had to repair the irrigation and cultivation units occasionally. Since I was going to inherit the farm, I ended up learning the basics..." Or at least I think so. All of the quieter moments, the sane moments, on the farm were hidden in a fog. Repressed. All I saw now of Deralia...were burning fields. Death and chaos. Another thing the Mandalorian raiders took from me. "Is it strange that I don't remember his face anymore?"

I asked this more to myself but Mission still replied. "No, not really. I don't remember my da's face." Her expression grew tight. "Griff...he didn't really tell me anything about our parents. Only that we had to smuggle ourselves into a freighter in order to get away from the bad people who killed them. I was only four when we arrived on Taris but everything before that was just...nothing."

Yet I had been twelve when Deralia was attacked. Old enough to remember my own father's face at least. Though it had been years. Two decades. Deralia had only been a fraction of my life, really. So, should I care?

"Exasperation: Master, I grow tired of all this petty small talk. Can you please get on with my repairs?"

Mission jumped after HK's voice modulator went off without warning. I sighed. "I'm attempting to re-route the power to different sections on the memory core's board. Why don't you watch—could learn a thing or two. Though, just a warning, there are hundreds if not thousands of clips so...this might take a while."

She shrugged. "Not that I have anything better to do."

I took the hydrospanner and finally picked my first wire. The blue one. Mission watched over my shoulder as I disconnected the wires from the circuits. Occasionally, the lukewarm caffa distracted me from the intensity of this project. Wire after wire. Solder after painful solder. Once I finished one connection, I checked in with HK. Still nothing. No memory restored.

A half-hour passed when Mission finally grew bored.

"Can I try?"

I finished connecting one of the wires to the chipset before I answered her.

"Hmm...I don't know…"

"I learn better by doing." She smirked. "I'll be careful, promise!"

HK's steel face twitched. I ignored it and handed Mission the hydrospanner. "Don't put this anywhere near there," I said, pointing at the heatsinks. "Or there ." This time I pointed at the dangerous liquid. "Or...just follow my instructions to the letter, alright?"

Mission saluted, her lekku bouncing. "Yes, sir!"

"Turn the spanner on to spinner mode." Mission fiddled with the device a bit before I sighed. "Flip the button two steps..."

"Ah!"

She flinched away after the tip of the hydrospanner shot out electricity.

"Gah!" I snatched the hydrospanner and switched it back to its null state. "That...is for soldering."

Mission hissed. "Sorry, sorry!"

"No, no, my bad, should have warned you." I turned the hydrospanner on to spinner mode then passed it to Mission. This was probably a mistake. "Now, carefully— carefully —use it on that red wire's connection next to the memory core. Do not touch anything but the connection. Don't worry, it's easy, it should do most of the work for you."

Mission stuck out her tongue as she leaned close to HK's panels. She lowered the spanner and aimed for…

"Wait, that's the motor—"

Her hand slipped. The hydrospanner knocked onto the metal of the motor core and an ugly grinding sound grated within the circuits. HK's red photoreceptors shot on and his head swiveled from side to side. His arms pumped in random directions.

"No, no! What are you doing you stupid blue meatbag! That is my motor core! Stop or I will terminate you and your bloodline—! Ahhhh!"

Mission dropped the hydrospanner at the sound of HK's frantic voice

"Oh, no! Did I break something?"

I snatched up the spanner and turned it off. "No, someone is just being a big baby." I waved the tool at his face. "People really don't like it when you call them meatbag or threaten their life. It's demeaning."

HK's eyes blinked. "Amendment: Then I will endeavor not to refer to you by your meatbag status, Master. Does that suffice?"

"Wha—did you even—no, of course not!"

"Query: I am confused. 'No' you do wish to be referred to as meatbag or 'no' it does not suffice?"

"No, it does not suffice!"

"Observation: Well, the only other possibility is to alter your meatbag status. Are you up for an array of cybernetic implants, perhaps?"

This droid was going to cause brain damage. Why? Because I really wanted to pound my head into the ground.

I stood. "Are you up for a trip into the trash compactor? Because everyone on this ship wouldn't hesitate to throw you into one."

"Objection: But Master! Am I not far too useful to be thrown aside in such a casual manner? Can I be faulted for my perfect artificial construction? Perhaps the meatbags should be made to... understand ."

Soldering mode. Activate.

"Now listen here, pal…"

Electricity danced around HK's face. The poor droid's lights dimmed as if it was cowering. "Correction: Err…fluid-filled biped? Watery flesh-sentient? I'll, uh, work on it, Master…"

"Yeah, you'd better cause I know exactly where to stick this thing to make it really hurt."

Someone cleared their throat.

Both Mission and I turned. Carth crossed his arms by the garage doors with raised eyebrows. I must have looked odd—torturing an assassin droid with a hydrospanner. Yet there I was—Wesley Gale. Torturing a droid with a hydrospanner.

I turned off soldering mode and backed away from HK with a broken smirk.

"Yes?"

"You do know you can just switch it off if it starts to annoy you, right?"

HK's head swiveled to address Carth. "Condemnation: Why don't I just switch you off with my Baragwin flamethrower, you annoying, orange meatbag!"

" What did it just call me?" Carth's voice peaked.

"Reiteration: I called you—meatbag—an annoying. Orange. Meatbag."

My smirk began hurting my face after HK made that comment, and Carth's own face matched the droid's hue.

"Hey, HK?" I asked while trying not to laugh. "Refer to Carth as that from now on."

"Clarification: You mean call the annoying, orange meatbag an annoying, orange meatbag?"

"Yup. That one."

"Affirmative."

Carth slapped his face, grabbed some tools he'd intended to get, then muttered something insulting as he stormed away.

The wooden staves snapped together in an off-beat rhythm. Juhani's emotionless yellow eyes barely moved as I ducked and weaved her attacks. A numb emptiness pervaded all of my movements. The crack of a blocked attack. I was the machine. The sensation of the Force in my blood. A body—nothing more. Speed, precision, serenity. All which condensed into the perfect Jedi.

Red lips. Bastila watched our practice fight with a pout that made her so...endearing. Gray eyes—soft. Pale face—soft. Hair...soft? Not sure. Hadn't really felt it...before...

Thwack!

"Agh—!"

The staff hit me square in the face. Juhani hissed as I was sent to the metal floor of the main concourse. My forehead throbbed and the blues from hyperspace bled together till I swear it looked purple.

"Force, you alright, Gale?" She held out a blurry hand. "Odd, I didn't think that'd actually hit you…"

I waved though it was more like a flail. "Fine...just fine…"

The room quaked as I staggered to my feet, trying to fight back blood from warming my face. Bastila crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. The "Wes-did-something-wrong" stance.

Canderous chuckled while waving a drink. Since the main hold had the most room to move around in, we had no choice but to be his private show.

"All of the planets and stars were knocked out of your skull, pipsqueak," the Mando said. "Surprised you still have a system in there."

Canderous' drink tipped into his lap. Must have been the wind. He cursed while batting away the liquid.

"Quiet in the peanut gallery," I said with a smirk.

"Again."

That was Bastila. Saying again. Anger. Anger phased into calm. I tried to not shout at her, but it was starting to get old.

"Excuse me, but was that Ewokese?"

"Again."

Bastila threw the abandoned staff at me which clattered at my feet.

Sweat built on my forehead. "We've been at this all afternoon. I never fought you on Dantooine for longer than an hour, maybe two. I'm tired, Juhani's tired, I'm hungry, you are probably hungry, and I don't see the point in being beat up like this."

Bastila glanced over at the Cathar. I was right, Juhani's face had grown terse. Her stance had laxed and her eyes drooped.

The strict Jedi pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, Juhani, I didn't realize. You may take a break."

The Cathar nodded then sat as far away from the Mando as possible. Canderous chuckled to himself for some reason and watched as Juhani drank from her flask. Her eyes bulged and she spat her drink out to the floor.

Juhani shot up. Her face tightened and her fangs reflected white in the Hawk's fluorescents.

"You Mandalorian cur!" She spat more of her drink at Canderous' feet. Both Bastila and I glanced at each other. Utterly confused. "How dare you try to force me to drink your filthy alcoholic waste!"

"Oh, come on, feline, I was only trying to help. You need to loosen up a bit."

"Feline? Feline! " Juhani waved her staff at the Mando. Something that felt like the taint weaved through the cool Ebon Hawk air. "You call me a feline again and I will beat you into a bloody pulp you murderous, bloodthirsty, tyrannical—"

Bastila yanked the staff from her grip. For once, that disappointed look wasn't addressing me.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Bastila said.

The young Cathar sighed and the heightened emotions dimmed. "There is no emotion, there is peace. I'm...sorry." She threw the flask and it barely missed Canderous' head. "I will meditate."

As Juhani stormed away to the dorms, the Mando picked up the flask and pah-ed.

"What a waste."

"And you ." Bastila pointed at Canderous. "If you antagonize her again, I'll hit you myself."

I chuckled. "I'd be afraid, Canderous. Very afraid."

The Mando narrowed his eyes. Then he pushed out of his seat and walked off towards the canteen muttering something in Mando'a. I stretched and walked towards the seats, ready to grab a bite to eat. As I picked up my own flask (which I hoped had been spiked), Bastila called over my shoulder.

"Oh, no. You're not done." Bastila used the Force and lifted the staff into her hand. This time, she held it to me outstretched. "Again."

I glared at the staff. "How the hell can I fight while starved?"

"We're Jedi, Wes. We need to be above our material bodies."

"My material body doesn't give two kriffs."

She sighed then lowered her extended arm. Feelings of frustration pooled within the bond and that soft face hardened at the edges.

I turned to leave for the canteen myself, however, something pulled me down by my hood, and I was on the ground again. This time due to Bastila's maneuvering with the Force. I gave her an exhausted look and didn't bother to sit up.

"Have something you want to say to me, Bas? Maybe you should use your actual words to let out some of that frustration instead of pulling me around like a ragdoll."

Bastila's stoic expression flinched. "I'm not frustrated with you. Just..."

She interrupted herself and dropped to the floor. Since I could no longer see her face, I sat up. I tilted my head as she assumed a meditative pose. The numbness pervaded the bond once more.

"So then...what's wrong?"

Bastila shrank and her meditative pose dissipated with it. "I am frustrated with myself."

"Huh? For what?"

She opened her eyes and met my gaze. "The Council told me that I should watch over you—make sure you stay on the correct path, but they never said anything to me about assisting you with training. After the events on Tatooine, I figured that it would be best to continue where Master Zhar left off. But I've realized that is impossible. It was foolish of me to even consider it."

"Wait...so you're giving up on me?"

"No. I lack the required qualifications to train you as Master Zhar would."

"What do you mean? You're a Jedi Knight, right? Doesn't that technically qualify you?"

"No...I…" She sighed. "Technically I am still considered a Padawan. My last master died on Revan's ship and I was never placed with another. So much has...happened." She met my gaze. "So, no, I'm not qualified to instruct you."

"Really? Why?"

"Huh?" She stuttered. "What do you mean 'why?'"

"Even if you're a Padawan you defeated...erm, I mean, you were present at Revan's defeat. That and you were sent to attack the Dark Lord in the first place. I'd expect them to send someone capable for that mission."

She huffed—obviously we were getting into dangerous topics. "I wasn't sent because I was capable. I was sent because of my Battle Meditation."

"But what use was that if you were boarding Revan's ship? Battle Meditation requires absolute concentration. I doubt you could concentrate in front of the Dark Lord's lightsaber of all things."

"That isn't—the Council knew that Revan wouldn't kill me. He would've tried to capture...and turn me against the Republic. That gave me an advantage."

"So you were bait ?" I cringed. "Not sure how I feel about that."

She shrugged. "It's just how it is. And...in the end, it didn't matter anyway." A moment passed of steely silence. Right, I forgot she didn't like talking about her battle with Revan. Stupid, Wes. Her hands became fists. "Even if I was a Knight, I don't think I would be much help to you."

I laughed. "What—I'm that difficult?"

"I try to suppress my emotions to the best of my abilities, but I'm not perfect. There will be times when I cannot hold back what I'm feeling. And those times will be the most intense and most distracting. Either I'll be in pain, anguish...terror. If anything happens to me, you have to remain composed."

I pursed my lips while remembering the countless times I felt Bastila in pain or in fear. Each time I dropped everything to go after her. Even at the expense of my own safety.

"How does that stop you from training me?"

"When we started this session, you beat Juhani easily. You used the Force as if it was an extension of yourself. But after thirty minutes you became...distracted."

"Distracted?" I scoffed. "What the hell could distract me from a flailing wooden stick?"

"Myself."

"What? Of course not."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. In fact, I've also been...distracted. Pain, fear, anguish...I've felt all of this in you before. I was able to block it most times, but it's getting harder to do so the longer we are together. This is why I cannot teach you. I don't know...how I can be a good teacher while also remaining detached."

"Sounds like you're overthinking this." I crossed my arms. "Maybe the Council was wrong. Maybe they should have sent a master with us."

"As the Council explained, sending Master Zhar would only have drawn unwanted attention from the Sith. The fate of the galaxy is at stake. They calculated the risks and in the end, chose the only option available."

"To leave me stranded?"

"No." She crossed her arms as well. "They have made this your instruction—the journey to the Star Forge. Adding anything else to it is only a distraction."

I smiled. "So...no more distractions?"

"Oh no, there is one lesson that I can teach you."

"Really? What?"

"How to suppress your emotions."

I sighed. "This again?"

"You've been lucky so far, Wes. I've been able to block every distraction you unintentionally throw at me. But one day I will...slip. And when that happens, you will regret not learning this lesson."

"I...didn't…"

Realize.

My face tightened and my chest grew cold. I hadn't thought about what she was feeling from me. Yes, I occasionally felt that spark of anger from her. That flicker of distaste. But Bastila has had years of experience blocking her emotions. Imagine what she felt from me, a neophyte Padawan, on a day-to-day basis? How was she able to go on with someone like me taking up space in her brain?

Who was influencing who in this bond, really?

"You're right. I'll...try."

I pushed down in order to stand. Before I dragged my feet to dinner, Bastila called out.

"We'll start tomorrow morning—cargo hold."

I stopped. Then nodded.

"Of course…"

Neither of us wanted this bond in the first place, after all.