Nineteen. Stand. Eighteen. Hit. Twenty-one. Pazaak.

Bastila hid in the dorm rooms. Meditating again—though she would never admit that it was actually moping. She didn't come out of meditation unless she had to make a run to the fresher or grab lunch. Acted as if I didn't exist or was a stranger. And I happily returned the favor.

The auction was tomorrow. We could have gone out to get more wraid plates, but Juhani was paranoid we'd run into that Gamorrean. So, I wasted time in the main hold playing a pazaak game on my lonesome. Mission had disappeared with Zaalbar to the spaceport repair shop, Juhani was training or meditating, Carth—well Carth wasn't one for conversation, and Canderous...

Actually, where was Canderous?

I threw a blue three-card down for my imaginary opponent. Twenty. Stand. Pazaak. I'd lost against me again. Figures. I groaned as the feelings of boredom began to override my common sense. Carth was better for conversation than my own thoughts, right?

The bridge beeped and buzzed with normal relaxing tunes. The pilot snored away in his chair, dreaming of conspiracies and plots and wars, as I approached with a stomp. Without waiting for him to notice my presence, I spun his chair with my foot. Carth shot awake and pointed his pistol at me. I chuckled nervously at the man's intensity as I raised my hands.

Carth holstered his weapon with a groan.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I'm bored."

He glared at me. "How is that my problem?"

"Well, I figured I'd rather be productive." I crossed my arms with a smile. "Let's go investigate this droid before we throw thousands of credits away on it."

Carth narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you the one who said I needed to stay here in case the Sith showed up?"

"So, you were definitely not asleep at the wheel right there?" Before Carth could snap back, I waved a hand. "That and it's been days since those assassins attacked. If they really wanted Bastila that badly, the Sith would have already showed up with the entire fleet. Instead, they're sending their little minions after us. Malak's busy, you know, with the Republic and with being an ass."

The pilot gave me that tired look before he stood. His back popped as he stretched. "I'm only going to make sure you don't get into any more trouble. Which is impossible, come to think of it."

I patted his shoulder with a smirk. "Then it'll be like old times, Orangy."

Without waiting for him to change his mind, I twisted around and led him out of the Ebon Hawk into the blistering heat of Tatooine.

We traveled through the streets in silence. Carth still looked half-asleep from his nap while I watched the crowds both for possible gangsters or assassins. When we crossed the street, Carth finally spoke over the bustle of the Anchorhead sandstone jungle.

"Why did you drag me out here with you anyway?"

I shrugged. "Why not? Thought you needed to stretch your legs. And I already told you. I'm bored."

"Hmm, Bastila still not talking to you after what happened?"

I glowered at him. "After what happened?"

"Well, I thought you were killing each other or something from what I heard over the comms last night. You also said something about a...family reunion?"

"Oh, right. That." I avoided stepping in rondo shit before addressing him again. "That was just Bastila being Bastila. Her mother is in town and, well, she's being stubborn about it. Because 'Jedi' and 'emotions' and 'dark side.'" I sighed as I thought back to last night's argument. "I swear, that woman is going to drive me insane."

"Well, she certainly can't do that when you're already insane."

An ill-humored smirk climbed onto my face.

"Ha, ha, very funny."

When we turned the corner, I spotted the large Czerka building in the distance. We made for it all the while I was tempted to kick a rock or something. I needed to vent my frustrations before I took it out on my poor foot. Even if it was to Carth of all people.

"Imagine being mentally connected to an overbearing, puritanical woman who insists that 'there is no emotion' every time you make a joke or just...act human. You'd go insane too."

Carth chuckled while rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah, that's pretty hard to imagine—"

"Don't even get me started about her being a massive hypocrite. Oh, there is no emotion, huh? Kind of hard to believe when she's yelling at me over the slightest—"

"But you're not doing yourself any favors by picking fights with her all the time," Carth interrupted.

"Oh, so you think that I start it?" I clicked my tongue. "Of course. I'm the one with the problem. That's what she wants you and everyone else to believe."

"So, did you bring me out here to rant about Bastila?"

"What? Of course not!" I glared at him. "You're the one who brought her up!"

Carth sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "Believe me, Wes, sometimes it's better to just drop it and let her win. Otherwise, she will drive you absolutely…crazy."

With that line, Carth trailed off and stared off into the sky as if remembering something nostalgic or...sentimental. I narrowed my eyes at the pilot, and before I could ask him to clarify that point, we finally arrived at our destination.

"So…" Carth narrowed his eyes. "This is Czerka Headquarters. Aren't the droids being stored at the warehouse?"

I ignored him as I marched into the building.

So far, out of all the places we'd visited on this planet, Czerka Headquarters was the most pristine. Suspiciously pristine. Numerous cleaning droids made sure that any grains of sand that blew through the automatic doors were immediately sucked up.

I made for the front desk and Carth followed with a sigh.

Numerous company reports scrolled along the screens on the walls with the current Republic stock figures—which were always at a rapid decline due to all the wars. The receptionists were walled off by a thick sheet of glass. Wouldn't have been surprised if it was made of cortosis. The Duros receptionist narrowed his large eyes at me when I leaned casually on the marble of the rounded desk.

"How may I help you, spacer?" the Duros asked.

I drummed my fingers casually. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? I heard a contract has been fulfilled by your hunters and that the target has been delivered. I'm here to collect."

The Duros frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Carth coughed next to my ear. I glanced over to him and he was giving me that suspicious look. He'd have to wait, unfortunately.

"Then maybe I should speak to someone who doesn't have a memory problem."

The Duros sighed. "Who do you work for and what contract did you put out?"

Finally. Talking to these corporate slimes was like pulling head tails.

"The Exchange. The contract is for the boy."

The Duros looked to the side before he shook his head. "Have you been living under an asteroid? Davik was blasted on Taris along with the Exchange. Any contracts put out have been made null and void."

He began typing something at the computer module but I wasn't going to leave it there.

"Then why has this contract been marked fulfilled instead of terminated?"

The Duros stopped typing. "Client error. It happens."

"So what's the problem then? Release the boy."

Finally, the receptionist met my gaze. "Who do you really work for, spacer? Because I know for a fact that it's not the Exchange. If you really worked for the Exchange then you would know that the boy has already been collected."

I froze. No. Not again.

"What do you mean? The Exchange put out the bounty. So then who took him?"

"Does it matter to you anymore?" The Czerka employee shrugged. "Move along."

I leaned closer to the Duros over the desk. The Force stirred in the air near his round head.

"Tell me. Who ."

A power split the air. The Duros shivered as the Force persuasion took hold of his mind. It took more effort to bend the employee to my will though. Eventually...

"I-I don't know! They were all in black. I'm not supposed to ask questions…"

Carth grabbed my shoulder. "Wes...what are you—?"

I shoved his hand away and pushed further with the Force.

"You're lying."

"No! I...I swear that's all I know."

Kriff it all.

I released my hold on the Duros and pounded the desk. Carth stepped away before I stormed out of Czerka Headquarters.

Outside, I stopped beside the building and stared down at my boots in thought. This whole thing with trying to find Liam felt like a Trandoshan comedy sketch. Which is to say it wasn't funny but I was still being made out to be a joke.

Carth finally emerged from the Czerka building.

"What...was that? What did you do to that guy? And the Exchange? Bounty?"

I sighed. Why had I brought Carth along again? Oh, right, I thought all I'd have to do was scam the Duros, maybe use the Force a bit, and then we'd rescue the kid. And there would have been no problems. But of course, it was never that easy.

I peered to the side at the pilot. "Just another dead end with finding the kid. And me screwing up. Again."

Carth sighed. "Look...it's unfortunate that you lost him and all, but don't you think this is getting to be a bit obsessive?"

"You're one to talk about 'obsessions,' Mister Paranoid."

"Oh, you're really going to use that on me again, huh? Well, not falling for it this time." Carth walked so that he stood by my side then crossed his arms as he observed the traffic. "Let me rephrase that question—are you trying to find that kid for his sake...or for yours?"

Heat filled my chest along with many different denials ranging from cursing to full-on shouting. Yet, I was supposed to be a Padawan. A Jedi. There is no emotion, there is peace. What happened the last time I reacted on pure impulse? Almost died to those Mandos...but I also rescued those kids. So, instead of shouting, my shoulders sank. Because I knew I couldn't answer Carth's question. Not when I wasn't sure about the answer. And, like a coward, I didn't give him one.

I marched off towards the Czerka Warehouse. We had a droid to look at too, after all.

On the way to the warehouse, the comm hissed in my pocket.

"Where the hell are you?"

Oh. Whoops. Forgot to tell Bastila what we were doing. Carth raised a brow at me while I dug my hand in my pockets with a grumble. I flipped the comm on as I walked off towards the warehouse with Carth in tow.

"Ah, so we're on speaking terms again?"

"Get back here. Now."

"Have the Sith shown up?"

In the distance, there was a flicker of annoyance. The Talravin accent grew thick over the comm's distortion as if she was trying to hold back from shouting.

"No. But you left the ship. That and I sensed...intensity in the bond. I thought you got attacked again or worse."

"Oh, so you were concerned about me. Strange. Sounds like an emotion."

The comm clicked. "Where's Carth?"

"He's with me."

"Give him the comm."

I rolled my eyes and flung the comm in the general direction of the pilot who somehow caught it. Carth did not look happy about speaking to the Jedi either.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

Carth glanced over at me before responding. "Wes wanted to inspect the droid before the auction tomorrow. He forced me to come along."

For some reason, the pilot left out our other travel destination. That was unlike him.

Bastila clicked her tongue. "Oh. Well then. Glad that Wes thought he could go without my input."

I was tempted to snatch the comm out of Carth's hands, but I held back for once. Instead, I made sure I didn't get run over by speeders as we crossed the street.

"We didn't leave you out on purpose, Bastila. And...do you really know that much about droids?"

The Jedi's huff broke the comm's mic. "Tell Wes that his emotions are getting out of control. He's meditating as soon as he gets back to the ship."

Oh, lovely, now I have something to look forward to.

The pilot sighed. "Look, I'm not getting into the middle of this. You can tell him that yourself." He switched the comm off and faced me with lips peeled back as if he was in pain.

I waved a hand. "Now do you see what I'm dealing with here?"

Before he could answer, probably with some dumb quip, we'd finally arrived at our destination.

The large Czerka warehouse echoed with the many voices of dock loaders and agents. Speeders hovered inside the opened garage doors towards the containers filled with an assortment of minerals. Large sandcrawlers were parked on the other side of the warehouse out to the open Tatooine desert. The crawlers accumulated with more of those dinky-looking rocks—ready to be shipped out for weapon production. The reception area was more chaotic than the one in the Headquarters. Boxes stuffed with datapads were stacked to Carth's height and bins filled with trashed tags littered the floor underneath.

The Czerka receptionist hadn't even looked up from her datapad when I approached. Fortunately, when I mentioned I was there to inspect the droids being sold at the auction, I had her full attention. She waved to the curtained-off area in the corner of the warehouse.

"Go see Yuka Laka at his workshop—he handles droid manufacturing."

And so Carth and I weaved through the chaos of the warehouse towards the workshop. Past the curtained-off area, droid parts and units littered shelves from expensive to cheap, large to small, foreign to familiar. Multiple units either broken or brand new were spaced out at the center of the room in various states of repair. The most obnoxious-looking one was bright red, lithe, and dangerous.

As we approached the workbenches, a shouting match erupted between an Ithorian and an Echani woman. A familiar Echani woman. A double-bladed vibroblade was slung over her shoulder.

Oh. Not her again.

The Echani slammed a fist onto the worktable.

"I don't care if it's being sold at an auction, hammerhead! Destroy it!"

The Ithorian shuddered. "I'm sorry, miss, but if you threaten to harm the merchandise again, I will call security."

"You don't understand what it is, do you?"

The Ithorian, who I guessed to be Yuka Laka, blubbered. "I've given you enough chances to leave!"

Cursing in Echani, the strange woman went for a pistol at her belt.

I strode forward. "Hey!"

The Echani froze and she twisted around. Releasing her hold on her blaster, she crossed her arms, eyebrows low on her face.

"You're that strange Jedi..."

She wasn't wearing that creepy mask of her's—probably because any Czerka official would have taken one look and thrown her out of there. A scar I hadn't noticed before in the dim lights of the alleyway crossed her lower chin.

Carth arrived at my side. "You know her?"

"Erm...not really..."

Before I could go into detail, the Echani woman stormed past us out of the mechanic's wing. I raised a hand.

"Hey, wait a sec—"

However, she disappeared yet again without comment. Guess she was shy or something. Scratching my head, I approached the Czerka droid mechanic. Yuka Laka still trembled after his encounter with the dangerous Echani.

"I'm sorry about the racket. How can I help you?"

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Some bounty hunter—I don't know." The Ithorian shook his fishy head. "She was snooping around here eyeing that droid. I thought she was a customer..."

A bounty hunter, huh?

"And what droid, exactly, was she so interested in destroying?"

Yuka Laka raised a hand, pointing to the corner. "That droid over there. HK-47. She thought the damn thing was some bloodthirsty psychopath. But she's obviously mistaken it for another model." He blinked. "Are you interested? The droid will be sold at the auction tomorrow. It's a fine protocol translator—HK stands for Humane Keeper—or that's what it told me at least. I think it's been modified from the base unit. It says that it understands the Sand People dialect and also has some armor mounts. For protection, perhaps?"

I glanced towards the dark corner. HK-47 was that obnoxious-looking red one. Before I went over to investigate, its red lights blinked and its head swiveled.

"Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka? It would serve my purposes to be removed from his ownership."

Yuka Laka groaned, slapping a greasy cloth onto the workbench.

"Now it's talking? I can't believe this. Stubborn droid." The Ithorian glared at HK-47. "It needs to sell itself better. I put it up for sale in the last auction but nobody was interested. Two moisture farmers wanted a demonstration yesterday, but it just stood there."

I crossed my arms. "You seem to be having a few problems with it..."

"Well, droids become...uncooperative when they go on for too long without a memory wipe."

"What if it becomes even more 'uncooperative' after we bid on it? We can't have a crazy droid speaking to the Sand People. They'll attack us for any given reason," I said.

Yuka Laka was quick to reassure. "No, no, it might be eccentric, but it's completely obedient."

Well, there was only one way to find out if that was true.

I walked over to HK, its red eyes blinked once then twice as I inspected it. Armor built like the outside of a hammerhead-class warship, hands crafted to grip onto a blaster rifle, at least a head taller than I was. This HK was built for battle. Arduous battles. Carth frowned up at it—he obviously didn't like what he saw. After all, we had been expecting a normal protocol droid with some extra functions, not this lethal looking thing.

"Humane Keeper"-47 blinked and his head swiveled to face me. "Greeting: Hello to you, prospective purchasers. I am referred to as HK-47, a fully functional Systech Corporation droid skilled in both combat and protocol functions."

"Systech?" I asked. "Never heard of it. What company is that?"

"Answer: With the restraining bolt Yuka Laka has installed, I do not have full access to my memory core. I suspect, however, that I am not only from Systech but of unique construction...or I was intended for a very specific customer."

I glanced towards Carth. So, the droid didn't know who built it? I suppose the only thing that mattered right now was that it understood Sand People...but we didn't want the thing blowing up in our faces.

"Well, what do you know about your functions?"

The droid blinked. "Answer: I am a fully capable translator and cultural analyst, and I'm also capable in...personal combat."

"Personal combat?" I asked. "So, you're a battle droid too?"

"Disclosure: Yes...and no. While battle droids hold battlefields, I am capable of eliminating a very...specific type of target."

In the corner of my eye, Carth's shoulders tightened.

I laughed nervously. "Um...you're beginning to sound a lot like an assassin droid."

"Assassin droid? Reassurance: I am a law-abiding droid. Yes, indeed, law-abiding, that's me."

"That...didn't sound very 'reassuring.'"

"Request: Please do not speak so loudly, prospective bidder! Do you wish for my starting price to be doubled?"

I turned to Carth. "What do you think?" I asked.

"It seems a bit... abnormal ."

I scratched my stubble. "Yeah, it's a little strange that HK-47 here is the only droid on Tatooine that understands Sand People. I mean, no one else has thought to take HK's data core and copy it onto a more suitable protocol unit?"

"That is not what I meant by abnormal."

"Interjection: Czerka, and by extension, Yuka Laka is the only droid manufacturer in Anchorhead, therefore, there is little in terms of 'suitable' protocol droids that could hold a copy of my data core. Elaboration: I doubt that the fool Ithorian has the capabilities to create a high-tech droid such as myself."

I chuckled. "Does Yuka Laka know you talk about him like this behind his back?"

"Statement: I wish only to be purchased and away from ill-treatment at the hands of this poorly-skilled mechanic. I have no desire to be subtle."

"Well, if you treat all your masters that way, then why should I even bother with you?"

"Qualification: Er...of course I will be quite pleasant to you if you purchase me. Please?"

I sighed. "Well, you're in luck, droid. I don't think we have a choice."

We walked away from HK-47 in order to speak to Yuka Laka once more. The Ithorian had returned to repairing some T7 astromech units on that workbench. Carth's face resembled the creased face of a kath hound.

I spoke to the mechanic again. "Are you sure that is the only droid that can understand Sand People?"

The Ithorian gave a guttural sigh. "There isn't really a demand to speak to the Sand People unless you need to tell them to get off your property. They usually shoot first and ask questions later." He shrugged. "If you're actually interested in that thing, I can lower the initial bid price. I won't go lower than 2,000 credits. That's how much it's cost me with it just taking up space in the shop."

I gave Carth a doubtful look that he returned. Were we fortunate that the Ithorian was willing to drop the price? Or was that a sign that we were being taken for a ride?

Calm. Empty. Mind. No emotions.

We returned to the ship to a pissed off Bastila who immediately ordered for me to sit alone in the dorms to meditate. Normally, I would have been smart back, but guilt over what happened with the kid overruled my desire to be spiteful. Because, even though Bastila was overreacting, she was right. I'd once again proven to be the worst Jedi out there.

The doors hissed yet I didn't stir from my meditation. Focus. Calm. There is no emotion.

"Whoa! Um, Wessy?"

Mission's voice echoed in the meditation state. Light gradually pierced the ether of darkness.

"Uh...it's dinner time!"

My eyes opened. I drifted to the floor softly for once, however, bags, datapads, and other miscellaneous items clattered to the floor. I flinched at the chaos and rubbed the back of my head. The young Twi'lek was looking down at me as if I'd performed some miracle.

I sighed. "Whoops, sorry about that."

"Sorry? That was amazing! I didn't know you could do that!"

I stood with a frown and began to clean up the displaced items. "Right, but I'm supposed to 'control my use of the Force while in meditation and not use it with wild abandonment,'" I said, repeating one of Master Zhar's lines.

"Oh…"

Mission rubbed the back of her head—probably missing the point. And, honestly, I didn't blame her.

We arrived at the canteen and a hot meal was awaiting me. Nice of...whoever made that. I took it and Mission sat with me. Zaalbar had already begun to devour his meal. The rest of the crew either already had dinner or were busy with other things.

Mission threw me a smirk. "I heard you and Carth went to see the droid…"

I took a few bites of food before I responded to Mission's remark.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Can I be the droid's master?"

I finished chewing before I replied. "No. You broke T3 that one time and I was the one who had to fix him, remember?"

"I'll learn how to repair it, I promise. Actually, you could teach me!"

"Mission...a droid isn't a pet gizka. You need to know how to maintain them otherwise they'll go crazy on you." I drank some water. "And this droid's a little off already."

"Off? What—it's just a protocol droid, right?"

"Trust me, you probably want to start off with something more...passive."

Fortunately, Mission didn't argue further on that point. "Ok, but I still want to learn. Can you show me how to fix T3? I mean...I probably could alter his software or his memory core but I don't know a thing about components."

"I don't know...will T3 appreciate being a part of your experiments?"

Mission threw a lekku over her shoulder. "If I break something, you'll be there to fix him, right?"

A smirk graced my face. "Alright. You've convinced me." I waved a fork at the Twi'lek. "But if you do break something, I'm not going to fix him for you. I'll walk you through it—that's the best way to learn."

Mission shot up from her seat. "Of course, Master Wes!"

I grimaced. And I'd thought I'd gotten Juhani to stop calling me that. It was spreading...

The next day, we once again traveled to the Czerka Headquarter building but this time we made for the large hall in the back. Bastila pursed her lips at the crowd. Juhani peered down at the surrounding market stalls that had been set up near the showroom's entrance. And Carth stayed behind on the ship. After what happened yesterday, I don't think he was too keen on getting this droid.

Bastila hadn't said much to either Juhani, Mission, or I on the way there. And the bond wasn't much help with determining what she felt. Just the same numb feeling.

We waited in line for ten minutes before arriving at the door of the showroom. The employee asked for proof that I had enough credits to bid. Once I showed that proof, the Czerka employee handed me a ticket and we were directed to sit in the crowd of chairs. I crossed my arms as I sat, ready to be bored to tears until the actual droid we wanted was up to bid.

Twelve droids had been lined up on the stage. HK-47 was among them. The auction began and, as I expected, it was a snooze fest. Bastila, who still hadn't said a word to me since yesterday, crossed her arms and remained focused on the wide variety of droids being showcased. I told her about the one we looked at, but I didn't mention its...odd behavior.

The announcer finished with some medical protocol droid that sold for 4,000 before HK-47 stomped forward.

I'd been quick to shout out a bid.

"2,000."

The crowd, which consisted of settlers and farmers, wouldn't like the dangerous look of HK. After a few seconds of silence passed, I was sure that we had succeeded here.

Someone near the front stood.

"3,000."

I had to jinx it.

It was her again. That Echani. She glared back at me and I returned the look. Wait...so she wanted to destroy the thing so badly that she wanted to buy it in order to do so?

Why does this always happen to me?

I stood as well. "3,500."

"4,000."

I glared at the woman. "5,000."

"5,250."

" 8,000 ."

Something kicked me in the shin. Probably Bastila. The crowd twisted around to gawk at me. The Echani woman somehow grew paler than she already appeared. Something like a glimmer of rage flickered in her silver eyes.

She sat down in defeat.

And so, we won the battle for HK-47. Probably wasn't worth the 8,000 credits, but if he'd been destroyed then we'd have to stay here longer. And I did not want to stay here longer.

After I won the bid, I made for the mechanic's workshop on my own to pick up the droid. Yuka Laka took off the restraining bolt (with HK grumbling complaints above him). When he finished, the droid's red lights blinked once and a high-pitched click pierced my ears.

Yuka Laka sighed with relief. "Thank you for the purchase. It was getting to be a little worn out in that corner there..."

HK-47's head swiveled and its red light dimmed as if it was glaring.

"Objection: Worn out? Listen you talentless organic meatbag...one word from my master and I will pull you apart limb from useless limb!"

Well...I didn't expect that. Was it actually serious?

Yuka Laka began to shiver. "It got a little hostile there, didn't it?"

HK's stoic red metal face darkened in the shadows. "I have always been hostile, meatbag. Now that I no longer rely on your primitive maintenance skills I no longer need to hide it."

Great.

"Um, are you sure this thing is stable?" I asked.

Yuka Laka looked away in shame—he knew!

"Sorry, but I have no return policy. HK-47 is your problem now."

HK raised a metal fist. "Correction: I am not a problem you organic meatbag! You and your highly deficient mechanical skills are a problem!"

"Right...like that problem."

Looking up at the droid, I figured that the purchase was well made—despite the scary bloodlust of its programming. Maybe there was a way to...tone that down? I stormed away, completely over this day, and the droid shuffled after me.

"Thank you...and please come again!" Yuka Laka called out.

HK stomped to my side. "Query: May I kill him now, Master? I would ever so much like to crush his neck. Just a little. It's been a fantasy of mine."

I stopped and glanced back at the Ithorian while scratching my chin. A smirk and a laugh escaped my lips. This droid had fantasies?

"Hmm, maybe later."

The Ithorian dropped a wrench and the ring echoed from across the workshop.

" Later ?"

HK's head swiveled so that its head was now backward. It called back as we left. "You hear that, meatbag? I will be back!"

Bastila, Mission, and Juhani all crossed their arms and stared up at our newest member. The Jedi, of course, remained serene although I could sense a slight disturbance from Bastila. Mission, on the other hand, was absolutely terrified.

HK-47's head scanned Czerka's main hall as if it was looking for targets.

Bastila met my gaze. "Are you sure this is the right one?"

"It kinda looks dangerous," Mission muttered.

Hmm...it did, didn't it? I turned to address HK. "So, about your functionality...what do you do, exactly?"

The droid's light blinked. "Statement: I know some elements of my functionality, Master, but not all."

"Not all? So you lied to me."

"Qualification: Er...not so much, Master. I spoke out of ignorance. I assumed that the Ithorian was to blame for my memory loss."

"Memory loss?"

"Answer: Yes, master. My past memory has been almost completely erased prior to your purchase of me."

"Well, I guess that isn't unusual for a droid..." At least for decades-old units. But this one didn't look old enough to have that issue. I nodded. "Tell me what you can then."

"Observation: I am sure you know most of my functions already, Master. I can speak most languages, including the language of the Sand People. I handle heavy weaponry with ease. My physical capabilities are above those of the average meatbag, as are my sensory functions...an assassin if you would."

I flinched. "An assassin ?"

The three ladies blanched. The droid swished its head as if scanning the room for enemies.

"Caution: Shh! Master! Such a function in a droid is highly illegal."

I glanced around, spotting a few busy Czerka employees who were giving us raised eyebrows.

"Err...I won't tell anyone." Only if, you know, the droid hadn't announced to the galaxy that he was hiding such an illegal function. I licked my lips. "So if I wanted to, I could send you loose to kill someone? Anyone? Just like that?" A few people were already coming to mind. A few annoying people.

Bastila glared at me. Oh, right, probably sensed those thoughts.

"Wes."

"What? It's just a question, I swear."

HK's photoreceptors dimmed. "Answer: My assassination functions are currently non-functional, having been de-activated by the meatbag Yuka Laka on Tatooine. Were they functional, you as my master would be able to specify a target and I would operate independently to the best of my ability to terminate it."

Bastila sighed. "Thank the Force."

I glanced to the side at the Czerka weapon stalls. A few sniper rifles were on sale. Well, if we were going to walk around with a defunct assassin droid, might as well make use of his combat proficiency. I approached the kiosk, passed a 2,000 credit chip over, then handed the droid the weapon.

Bastila grabbed my shoulder.

"You're arming it? Are you insane?"

I shrugged. "Why not? Sure, it's probably dangerous, but I doubt it'll kill us...right HK?"

The red droid's photoreceptors blinked. "Statement: Of course I will not harm my master, Master. And, unless you desire for me to brutally torture and kill the female meatbags, I will not attempt to do so."

Bastila, Mission, and Juhani all shouted at once.

"Meatbags?"

"Torture!"

"Kill?"

I laughed while rubbing the back of my head.

"See. It's not that bad..."

"Request: But may I please brutally torture and kill the female meatbags, Master? I haven't seen a bloodbath in... so long."

I faced the droid with my hands at my hips. "No! HK you're not going to kill the female meatbags..." I snuck them a look with a smirk. "Yet."

"Yet!" they shouted.

HK's lights blinked and it held up its new sniper rifle tightly. "Acknowledgment: Then I will firmly await your orders to disembowel them, Master. And by firmly I mean with palpable impatience!"

The teenager pointed at HK. "You're not going to disembowel anyone you evil droid!"

Of course, I had been joking. HK wasn't ever going to kill them while I was still alive and breathing to say anything about it.

Bastila faced me—her face growing red. "I thought you went with Carth to make sure the droid was tolerable. But it's completely insane."

"I think it's just joking, Bastila," I said with a shrug. "Try not to take it too seriously."

"But this is supposed to help us talk to the Sand People," Juhani said. "We'll be shot at if this is what he sounds like!"

Bastila nodded. "Is there any way at all that you can...tell it to not be like that or something?"

I glanced up at the droid. Its red beady eyes blinked slowly.

"HK, tone it down, will yah?"

"Inquiry: Tone what down, Master?"

"I don't know...your persistent desire to kill anything that moves?"

"Affirmative: Of course, Master. Apology: Unfortunately, Master, I have been programmed with a limitless desire to 'kill anything that moves.' Therefore, despite obeying that ridiculous order, I'm afraid that I will never meet your meatbag standards."

I threw my hands into the air. "Look—I tried, alright?"

Bastila sighed. "I suppose it will have to do. At the very least it doesn't seem to be able to attack anyone on a whim."

Juhani shivered. "That we know of."

And with the Jedi's final comment, we all marched out of Czerka Headquarters, either feeling accomplished with a slight tinge of defeat or defeated with a slight tinge of accomplishment. Still couldn't decide which one I felt myself, honestly...

Now that we had the droid, all we had to do was go to this Sand People camp and try to convince them to tell us the location of the Krayt Dragon's lair. And, of course, I knew that would be a pain in the ass to deal with. Before we set out on that quest, we had to grab the speeder sitting in our ship. I told the group that I could get the speeder and bring it over instead of having all of us walk to the Ebon Hawk. Bastila, of course, did not like the idea.

"What if you're attacked again? It isn't safe—we need to stick together."

I pointed a thumb at the towering assassin droid. "I think I'm more than protected with this murder machine."

HK's response was a faint dimming of his lights. Wait...did it actually feel proud about being called that or something?

Thankfully, that was enough to convince the stubborn Jedi. Five minutes into our walk to the Ebon Hawk, HK and I crossed the street toward the spaceport. It was now lunchtime and the buzz around the city had caused massive crowds of hunters, miners, and gangsters to flock. There was so much going on, so many sensations to detect, that I didn't notice before it was too late.

Something cold hit my back.

"Don't. Move."

The voice was familiar. I turned my head to see who was threatening me.

That Echani woman. Again.

She pushed the weapon hard into my back. "I said don't move."

I raised my eyebrows, smirking. "So, do you just like threatening people with blasters? Or do you have a point?"

"Give me the droid."

"Why, so that you can destroy it? No thanks."

HK-47's mechanical limbs clanked along with the sound of the sniper rifle powering up. A dangerous hiss echoed with his voice. "Warning: I would advise that you drop your weapon, meatbag, before I shoot your brains into orbit."

"You know…" I began. "It's rather stupid of you to threaten someone like this out in public."

"You would have sensed me if I tried to catch you alone. And do you really think these people care?"

I glanced out at the crowd. Of course, this planet had no enforcing body other than Czerka. So, the populous of Anchorhead avoided us rather than shout for patrols.

"Who are you anyway?" I asked.

"No questions. Hand me the droid and I won't kill you."

"You do know that thing is going to follow up on his threat if you do that, right?"

The Echani's blaster twitched. "It shuts down after the death of its master."

"Oh, and how would you know that?"

While I was speaking, I gradually moved my hand to my lightsaber. Before the Echani could answer, I unleashed the blade and cut the blaster in a single stroke. The thing went off, however, the bolt had been deflected into the sky.

The crowd stopped moving around us after my lightsaber hissed on. HK also tried to fire a round but I don't think it fought well in close quarters. The Echani beat the sniper rifle with that double-sided vibroblade as if it was a bug. It clattered to the ground and the droid began...laughing maniacally. Distracted by that, I barely dodged her vibroblade. As she hammered away at me, I blocked her fast strokes and backed away towards the alleyways. The Echani was deft and swift with her blade—the cortosis coated metal rang with each blow that I blocked with the lightsaber.

"HK! Shoot her!"

The sound of the sniper rifle warming up rang in the air again. Only, before HK could fire another round, she twisted her vibroblade and forced me between her and the droid.

HK hissed. "Exasperation: I cannot, Master, because your big fat meatbag of a head is in the way!"

She seethed as I pushed down on her blade.

"Why the hell would a Jedi buy a droid like that?" she asked.

I blocked the next sweeping strike. "Sane people would ask that question first!"

For some reason, that caused the Echani to stop her attacks. Before she continued, I used the Force on her vibroblade. The weapon spun in the air and stuck itself into the opposite wall. I raised the blue blade up to her face while my breath caught up and sweat fell from my brow.

HK sauntered up. "Irritation: What are you waiting for, Master? Terminate her!"

The Echani's silver eyes twitched at the sound of the droid, but she didn't say anything despite having a lightsaber raised to her face.

Eventually, I lowered my weapon arm. HK made a disappointed hiss. I waved to the street. "Just go. I'll forget this happened."

"Are you Sith?" She sneered. "Because only a Sith would get a droid like that."

"You have a really weird obsession. Why do you care about destroying HK so much?"

"Because it murdered him! "

The Echani's broken shout rang out in the alleyway. I gaped in shock then glanced over at the dangerous droid. Right, I suppose it was an assassin. It was bound to have made a few enemies…

I frowned. "I'm...sorry if it caused you harm, but we need it to translate the Sand People for us. It's just a droid. A machine. Whoever sent it is the one you should blame."

She sighed before gazing down at her boots. "The one I should blame...is dead."

"Great," I smiled, "guess that means this whole thing is behind us now."

I turned and pulled the double-sided vibroblade out of the wall. Blood dripped from the mouth of a white-haired man. Blinking once, I hefted the blade up to eye level. The weapon had a strange aura in the force—was it the dark side? Perhaps...but there was something else. A presence like one of the visions I shared with Bastila.

My comm jolted to life. "Guys, we have a problem."

Carth—his voice sounded frantic. I held the comm up to my face.

"What now?"

"Don't come back."

I pursed my lips. "Uh, why not?"

Silence came from the other end before Carth responded. "A Sith troop landed in our port and started asking about our ship." Before I could ask how many we were dealing with here, Carth continued. "And that's not even the most shocking detail. Because the one leading them around was Calo Nord ."

I froze at the mention of the bounty hunter's name. Calo Nord, the one that almost blew up the Ebon Hawk. He's still alive? Kriff...how was that even possible? The entire roof collapsed onto him!

In the corner of my eye, I noticed the Echani's face had tightened. Did she know who that was?

The comm hissed and Bastila's sharp voice ignited it.

"Explain."

The pilot breathed once into the mic. "I couldn't even believe it myself. But it had to be him—turban, goggles, and everything. Thankfully, the Czerka officials stopped the Sith from prying open our ship...but Bastila, I don't think we have much time left."

We were on a time limit before Malak grew impatient with us again, huh? I spoke into the comm. "But we need that speeder. We can't just walk across the desert. Have they already left?"

"No, they've stationed some guards nearby. I don't think they know that Zaalbar and I are on board…" He sighed again. "And I have a feeling if I fly the Hawk out of here and meet you somewhere else, they'll give chase."

Damn it. I scratched my head in deep thought. "Well then, we could just all go to the port and take them by surprise."

"Wes...at least twenty of them are still on their ship and another twenty followed Calo into the city."

"We could take 'em."

Bastila huffed. "We can't take them all. Instead, we'll have to rent a speeder from Czerka."

"You heard, Carth," I shouted. "They're literally banging down our doors. Getting a speeder from Czerka is going to take ages based on the way they run this hellhole of a planet."

"It's either that or we walk for days across the desert!" Bastila groaned. "Wes, watch for Calo on your way back to us, and please don't try anything reckless."

"Reckless? Me?"

"At this point, I expect it."

And with that, my comm clicked signaling the Jedi had shut it off. Of course, I knew our lackadaisical attitude was going eventually bite us in the ass. The heat of this planet was making my brain go soft, I swear. The Echani stepped up to me with a curious look. Oh. Almost forgot that she was standing there...

"So...does this mean you're not Sith then?"

HK-47's head twisted. "Observation: The female meatbag is still breathing. I expected more ruthlessness from you, Master. I will have to revise my character analysis of you."

Character analysis? And wait... revise? What kind of person did the droid think I was before?