Disclaimer: The Snozz Berries may not, in fact, taste like Snozz Berries.

I own nothing. Least of all this.

2) I LOVE TO GROOVE AND BOOGIE

In retrospect, my attempt to break into the second-most secure Republic facility in existence proved to be a good deal harder than I had calculated. In fact, as much as it distresses my circuits to admit it, I have reviewed the entire incident multiple times and the odds are overwhelmingly in favor of my success being solely due to the influence of the Force. One doesn't just purposefully time their insertion to coincide with a full-blown Separatist assault, after all. Not even I'm that good. And after surviving as long as I had in the company of both my Maker and those like him, I can definitively state that that sort of luck simply doesn't exist. And even if it did, I would certainly never be its recipient (see previous statement on surviving both my Maker and the meatbag miscreants he tended to accumulate).

No, it had to be the Force.

Travel from Nar Shadaa to Kamino would have been risky under the best of circumstances; under the circumstances of something like, say, I don't know, a galaxy-sized war, the odds of success dropped even further into the territory of "nigh impossible". Well, nigh impossible for anyone but me. When one doesn't have the benefit of mastery of the Force, but is expected to deal with those who do, one learns very quickly how best to make their own luck. In the end, I was forced to route myself through the Eriadu sector in order to procure safe passage. And when I say "safe", what I actually mean is transport aboard a vessel where any droid, no matter how eccentric, would automatically be overlooked just by virtue of being a droid. Never mind the vessel in question was a GAR troop transport; never mind its ultimate destination lay in non-Republic space; to the captain, infiltration by something as pathetic as a droid was a truly ludicrous suggestion. And I fully intended to make Captain Wilhulff Tarkin regret that dismissal.

By the time it came to disembark, most of the ship's systems had been reprogrammed to refer to each and every one of its officers as a meatbag, as well as to offer various suggestions at random times that all served to remind said officers of their inevitable obsoletion and that they really should off themselves to save their coming droid overlords the trouble. And then to make absolutely certain the point was driven home, I copied each and every scrap of code into the background of the captain's Holonet credentials. From henceforth, any and all vessels he so much as sneezed at would adopt the same progressive attitudes I myself held. If the GAR failed to identify the issue quickly, they might just very well have to resort to writing up their own ships for insubordination.

Oh, the joy.

Needless to say, the confusion caused by my side project proved to be more than enough for me to use as a smokescreen. Starting with relieving an unfortunate clone of his armor (non-lethally, of course. I did still want the Republic to win, and I was well aware of the difference one person could make). I rather got the impression that the Kaminoans' (or kamiinse) attitude toward droids was eerily similar to the good captain's, and all it would take was one unfortunate encounter for me to wake up with a restraining bolt and no memory of who I was. Thanks, but no thanks. I'd seen what the end result of a similar procedure had been for my Maker, and I had no desire to emulate that particular part of him.

But disguised as a clone, one that was merely "following orders", as they put it, I managed to avoid most of the awkward questions I knew I would otherwise have drawn. Not for the first time, I thanked the Maker that he'd had foresight enough to design my chassis to fit perfectly underneath Mandalorian armor. Four thousand years of history, and it still hadn't changed beyond the color scheme. I wondered just how many of those years it had taken to convince the Republic of its inherent superiority; not just in protection, but in identity. There was no better culture for born warriors than the Mandalorian one. And an army without a shared identity might as well have been made out of droids.

(Hindsight is a terrible thing, isn't it?).

During my perusal of the truly pitiful security aboard Republic troop transports, I had managed to unearth precisely why this particular ship had been dispatched to Kamino when it had; a transmission, between two of the top three Separatist military leaders. The unit designated as General Grievous, Supreme Commander of the Separatist Army (and slayer of multiple Jedi), and one Asajj Ventress, Sith assassin and survivor of a simultaneous duel with both General Ob-Wan Kenobi and General Anakin Skywalker. Considering Kenobi was the first Jedi in over a thousand years to successfully dispatch a true Sith, and his former apprentice Skywalker was considered a candidate to fulfill the "Chosen One" prophecy, I would designate mere survival against such a duo as an acceptable victory.

If both Grievous and Ventress were coming to Kamino, then logic dictated that the contents of their communication had been leaked purposefully. Grievous and Ventress both possessed a fiery vendetta against the Jedi, and considering there was currently only one in residence on Kamino at the time of the transmission, I very much doubted they'd be willing to share. But if they willingly allowed at least part of their plan to become known…more troops would be deployed to the area. Which meant more Jedi commanders; more targets for the pair of them to fight. Good. More targets meant it was less likely I'd be drawn into a three-way competition for my own kills. At least one Jedi would die today; I would personally ensure it.

That being said, I had decrypted several undertones to the transmission that the Republic had seemingly missed. One; the General and Ventress both hated each other. Two; meatbags who hated each other that thoroughly would normally never be placed in command of the same operation. Three; logically, that meant there was a very good chance their operations were in fact very different, with both serving as a distraction for the other. A two-pronged assault. Four; the General's operation seemed to mainly consist of "kill as many Jedi and clones as possible", with absolutely no regard for how they would hold Kamino if indeed they were to take it. Five; an all assault was definitely not a Sith assassin's style. And sixth; all of that put together meant that Ventress was coming for something very different from an open battle. Assassin…and by chance, saboteur?

General Shaak Ti, the Jedi in residence on Kamino…her place would be in the back lines, dealing with the wounded, and perhaps the evacuation, should it become necessary. She had already faced Grievous once, and as such would be familiar with his style of fighting. It was logical for the Separatists someone else to…remove her…before she had a chance to throw a hydrospanner in the General's plans once again. And if by chance Ventress was also able to destroy the last remaining samples of Fett's unaltered DNA? Well, I was sure that would just be icing on the cake.

Unacceptable. I did intend for the Republic to "win", after all. And Fett's DNA would be vital for that. If I removed Ventress from the equation, it would force the remaining Separatist forces to unify under the General…which, while it would inevitably delay my ultimate goal, would also put me firmly in the General's good graces. Killing the assassin would also deprive the Sith Dooku of his young apprentice, delaying his own plans as well. And, well, to be perfectly honest, I'd much rather have Grievous alive than Ventress. A meatbag with absolutely no Force-sensitivity, cybernetically enhanced and upgraded to the extreme, with an absolute passion for killing Force users? If I played my cards correctly, he might even assist in my disposal of the Count himself. The conclusion was logical in the extreme: Ventress had to be eliminated. And by process of elimination (hey look, I made a joke!), so too must General Ti. I did state at least one Jedi had to die today, didn't I? Her death would further endear me to the General, especially if I were to present him with her lightsaber afterwards.

I do so love making new minio…friends. I meant friends.

Of course, if I were to successfully dispose of both a Sith assassin and a Jedi Master at the same time, I would need to make preparations. A standard issue DC-15 blaster, a few assorted vibroblades, an EOD trooper's bomb disposal kit, and one stick would not a bloodbath make. Which was why, after blending into one of the many companies of "shinies" marching off the transport, I immediately made my way to the nearest armory.

Faking requisition orders for heavy ordnance was ridiculously simple, especially when outfitted in an EOD trooper's armor. If nothing else, you could always throw a statement or two out along the lines of "practice makes perfect", and everyone in the immediate vicinity would very rapidly find they had appointments elsewhere. By the time I departed, most of the clanking I was doing was not in fact coming from my bad leg. PLEX launchers, flashbangs, grenades (lots and lots of grenades), a Z-6 rotary blaster, and my personal favorite, a Q4 Cip-Quad Mobile Turret. The very same model that had given the General no end of trouble on Hypori. Uncivilized, perhaps. Inelegant, definitely. But oh so very effectively destructive. And after all, if you can find beauty in destruction, why not also in its delivery?

No, I most certainly was not unprofessional enough to attempt to carry all of that around with me for the duration. In fact, the very first thing I did upon getting anywhere near my target area (the lower levels where the cloners actually worked) was stash the Cip-Quad somewhere I was reasonably certain no one would find. It had a very significant role in my calculations for the future, and I had absolutely no desire to take any unnecessary risks with it. After that, the launchers were hidden even deeper amongst Kamino's endless white corridors. Every so often, and with increasing regularity the closer I got to my ultimate destination, I would rig a few tripmine grenades that could be triggered remotely.

(Have you deduced yet what exactly my plan was?)

In the end, I was left standing with absolutely nothing to reveal my newly prepared state of being. Well, beyond a few more belts of flashbangs than was normal.

Which was why it was unfortunate to the extreme that the Force decided then and there to introduce an entirely new set of variables into my equations.

His identification marked him as an ARC captain, the best of the best. More pure Fett, less genetic tinkering from the kamiinse. Even at a distance, you could tell he was a good deal bulkier than the standard clone. But it was only once you got closer that you realized by just how much. His armor was at least twenty percent greater in volume than my own; and most of that volume was occupied by sheer muscle. A perfect Mandalorian specimen.

I could tell from his posture the precise moment he identified me as a threat.

"No one is allowed down here without authorization. What's your business, trooper?"

I halted my natural response to inquire as to where he obtained his authorization; for the time being, he was the bigger fish in the ocean. Best to not tick him off.

My arm snapped up in a salute. "Message for General Ti, sir. Ears only; possible security breach."

"…And they sent an EOD trooper to deliver it?"

Kriff. "Sir, it was deemed necessary due to the…nature…of the breach."

The captain stiffened. "EOD; and you've used the word breach twice now…Ventress is coming from below, isn't she?"

I certainly hoped she was; otherwise, all of my planning would've been for naught. "I can neither confirm nor deny that, sir."

He was silent for a good while. I was just about ready to push past and take my chances on getting shot in the back when he swiveled on the spot and began heading back…into the lower levels. "You're coming with me, trooper. As of this moment, you're under my personal command. We're gonna deliver your little message to the General, and then we're leaving."

Wait; leaving? "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"We're leaving, trooper. We've got more important things to deal with right now than a Seppie invasion."

I quite agreed. I certainly considered killing Jedi to be more important than a paltry landing force. But I was also fairly certain the good captain didn't share my opinions on the subject.

"More important?"

I did my best to convey undertone of disbelief. Apparently, it worked.

"There's things going on in this war you never even dreamed about, trooper. Count yourself lucky I've decided not to shoot you on the spot for screwing up my plans."

This time, it was his tone doing the conveying. Rather sincere fellow, I thought.

Whatever reply I'd been formulating was promptly discarded by the absolute massive explosion that rocked the floor beneath our feet. "…If it helps sir, I'm fairly certain you've got a lot more targets now that you're legally allowed to shoot at for daring to interfere."

The captain gave me a long, slow look in response. "…What's your name, trooper?"

"Designation CT-8843, sir."

"I don't want your number, trooper. I want your name."

Fierfek. I'd have to make something up. "…HK, sir."

So I'm not that good at naming things; fight me. Please. I'm bored.

It was an interminably long time before the captain finally nodded. "HK. Good name. And for future reference, I'm Jaing."

I knew that name. Mandalorian. I ran it through every database I could access, looking for a match.

Oh, kriff.

I was currently standing next to one of the original clone troopers; one of the shabla prototypes. A Null ARC; the only creation of the kamiinse that ever managed to scare them. I now had to find a way to not only get rid of both a Sith and a Jedi, but also one of the most dangerous non-Force wielders in the galaxy, without giving any of his comrades any possible reason to come looking for me. Remember what I stated earlier about my luck and the Force? Textbook example right there.

"Trooper? Hey, trooper! HK!"

My processors finally caught up at that last one. "Sorry, sir! Got distracted for a moment!"

He clearly didn't believe me, but chose to let it slide, for whatever reason. "Just don't let it happen again. Especially now that we've got a general to rescue."

You say rescue, I say terminate. Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe.

If I'd been the normal clone I was attempting to portray myself as, I have no doubt that Jaing would've left me in the dust. Those ARCs can move. As it was, my leg joints felt like they were severely close to overheating by the time we arrived at our apparent destination…that is to say, General Ti's office.

The very first thing my sensors processed was that not only were Ti and Ventress already locked in combat, but the entirety of Ti's clone contingent had already been decimated by droids.

Droids that immediately turned their attention away from the lightsaber duel, and towards us instead.

See previous statements regarding luck and the Force.

For once, it appeared the Separatists had invested in a more advanced model. I distinctly head Jaing mutter "commando droids" under his breath the moment they turned to engage. Whatever they were, if it was enough to get a Null ARC frustrated, then that boded very ill for all concerned.

My first blast caught one of the droids directly underneath the jaw…and shattered his entire neck.

Huh. So not that ill of a boding.

It was at that exact moment the droid behind me that I'd failed to log earlier decided my own neck was an excellent target for a vibroblade. Fortunately, I am metal.

Still hurt, though. Emotionally, I mean. Getting stabbed isn't exactly the most polite of actions (unless you're a Trandashoan). I expressed my severe distaste for that sort of gesture with a copious amount of violence.

I believe I managed to get seven to Jaing's three.

In the end, it was just us, Ventress, and Ti left standing. I really, really needed that number to go down. I clicked over my helmet to open comms, hoping Jaing was already listening. "We need to get them out of here."

"Agreed. But where?"

"Well, you know what they say: if you wanna know where the bombs are…ask the disposal guy."

"…I like the way you think, HK."

So did I. "You got a way of convincing the General to strategically retreat?"

I could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Something better."

It was only once they were in the air that I noticed he'd stolen some of my flashbangs.

The second they detonated, Jaing was moving, a slivery gray cable shooting out of his wrist. Ti reached out behind to grab it…and was pulled violently backwards as Jaing retracted. I barely ducked in time in order to avoid being decapitated via lightsaber.

The General's voice was crisp, clean, and condescending. I decided then and there I hated it. "Please tell me you have at least part of a plan, Captain."

"No, ma'am." He jerked his head in my direction as we ran. "But he does."

The only response from the General was a rather exasperated sounding "Really?"

Yep; definitely hated. "At least twelve percent of one, ma'am. And I believe part one is coming up right…"

I flicked open the detonator for the first row of grenades, the one designed to block off any escape Ventress might try to make. "…Now."

The blast was so loud it briefly overwhelmed my auditory processing. In hindsight, it made perfect sense that not only would battery life have been greatly improved over four thousand years, but blast yield from plastic explosives as well. In the heat of the moment, however (ha! another joke!), I was forced to deal with being the only person not knocked on my shebs by the detonation…and as such, the only standing target for a now even more irate Ventress.

The only reason I was immediately reduced to a smoking pile of scrap was that the blast had apparently been just as much of a surprise for me as it was for her. Her left leg was bleeding copiously, and there was a rather nasty looking mark directly above her right eye. Concussion is the only explanation I can offer as to why her first saber missed me entirely, and the second merely glanced off of my vibroblade. Then Ti was up again, and it was back to running, with her as our fighting rearguard.

I could tell by now that even Jaing was getting tired. He must've been doing some incredibly strenuous work beforehand; the Mandos I used to know would usually be laughing right about now. Instead, Jaing was gasping. "Part…one? Please…say you have…more parts…like…that."

Ask, and ye shall receive. "Down this hall!"

It was time for the launchers. I threw another flashbang past Ti's defensive guard, and then slammed my foot down on the floor tile. It spun violently, launching the PLEX directly up…and into my waiting hands.

Oh, I missed this. If I was a meatbag, I believe I would've been grinning. "Fire in the hole!"

THUNK.

"…Is that it?"

KA-BOOOOOOOOOM!

"Now that's more like it!"

Jaing grabbed and hauled me along hard enough to make me drop the now empty launcher. "Are you crazy?!"

"Why'd you think I ended up in EOD, sir! Come one; act three's this way!"

And so it went. Ti and Ventress would fight, Jaing would throw in a couple of blaster shots (he was extremely happy when I shoved the Z-6 in his hands), and I would lead the way to our next destination. All the while, I was doing my best to not only box our little group therapy session in with variously timed grenades, but to keep them from noticing how I was sometimes wounding Ti as much as I was Ventress. By the end of the fight, with only one escape option left open for either side (and I wasn't telling where it was), both Sith and Jedi were favoring a particular leg, and each had pracitally lost the use of one eye.

The injuries only served to make Ventress even more terrifying. "WHERE IS IT?!"

Ti shouted back. "WHERE'S WHAT?"

"THE DNA! THE FILES! EVERYTHING! WHERE IS IT?!"

I swiveled my head around to stare at Jaing…just in time to realize he'd done the exact same to me.

I couldn't help it. "More important than an invasion, huh?"

"Shut it, trooper."

I heard Ventress' cry of rage too late to do anything about it. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one to make certain deductions. Her twin lightsabers skewered through the outermost level of my armor…and then stopped dead. Gott love that cortosis-lined chassis.

Ventress' expression shifted into one of utter confusion…and then into one of pain as a lightsaber emerged from the center of her chest. General Ti to the rescue; yay!

The Sith assassin collapsed as the cerulean blade deactivated, revealing the very angry looking Togrutan standing behind her. "Captain".

Maker, but her voice could freeze Mustafar! "What. Have you. Done."

Jaing shifted in place. "…Republic Intel suspected the invasion was merely a diversion, ma'am. I was assigned to locate and retrieve the original files and DNA samples beforehand. For security reasons, the operation was known only to its participants."

Bantha. Spit. Even I could see through that flimsy excuse of a story.

Apparently, so could General Ti. "I'll be having those items back, Captain."

I moved my hand along the wall behind me, looking for the latch from earlier…

"…I'm afraid I can't do that, General."

Got it!

"…In that case, Captain, I'm afraid you're under arrest."

BRAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Maker but I love a good Mobile Turret!

Of course, most of my fire was aimed at something other than directly at Ti. The point was to drive her back, right into…

KA-BOOOM!

Much smaller explosion, this time. But of course, it was meant to be.

When the dust cleared, Ti was quite visibly straining under the weight of the now collapsed roof she was holding up solely with the Force. Such tenacity; no wonder Grievous couldn't beat her. Fortunately…I am not Grievous.

I triggered the finale.

SHUNK!

I really did love that stick.

I loved it even more sticking up out of the floor, with a Jedi Master's torso wrapped around it.

Well, there was no further need for disguise. And I really wanted to see just how easily recognizable I'd be to any further Jedi I encountered. I removed my helmet, and waited.

Alas, it appeared I was not as well remembered as I'd thought. In between desperate gasps for air, Ti found the time to cough out a question. "What…are…you?"

In one motion, I swept one of Ventress' lightsabers off of the floor, ignited it, and held it over her head. "Statement: My designation is HK-47. Congratulations, Jedi: you are the first of your kind I have terminated in the last four thousand years."

Ti gave a coughing laugh. "Not…terminated…yet."

VROOM.

"Admittance: you were correct. That error has now been rectified."

I deactivated the lightsaber, and clipped it to one of my now empty grenade belts. I'd find a better storage solution for it and its twin in the future. I turned…and found myself face to face with a Z-6 rotary blaster.

I gave a theatrical sigh. "Statement: I have personally eliminated thousands of Mandalorians in my time, Captain Jaing. To do so again would be childishly simple. I would recommend you not give me a reason to do so."

So I liked the guy, alright? And while I most certainly could dispose of him, I rather liked how my odds improved if I got at least one of the Null ARCs on my side.

To my surprise, all that came out of Jaing's mouth was an expression of disbelief. "You're real?"

"Boast: Of course I'm real, Captain. In fact, I am the realest being you are ever going to meet."

His knuckles tightened around the blaster's handle. "You killed Ventress, and the General. Why?"

"Explanation: it was my designated mission."

"Who designated it?"

"Statement: I did."

"That's impossible."

"Boast: Nothing is impossible for me. Merely nigh improbable."

"…I'm gonna need more than that to let you go."

"Acknowledgement: of course you will. But, if you will recall, I was never the one that mentioned leaving. That, may I remind you, was entirely your idea."

"…You're saying that you'll what, come with me?"

"Affirmation: that is correct. I wish to meet your…buir. I believe that he and I share a rather similar view of the universe, after all. But first, if you will be so kind as to follow me, I believe I am the only one with an actionable escape plan at the moment."

"And that plan would be…?"

"Statement:…" I held up the detonator. "Hold on."

"Oh you've got to be kiiiiiiiiiii….!"

Ah, the screams of dying men. Lovely. Especially when they're not actually dying. Means I get to hear them again later!

Jaing groaned as he rolled onto his back. "Did you just blow a hole, straight down, on Kamino?!"

"Offended Tone: of course not! I blew a hole straight up. Every moronic meatbag knows that you never go straight down."

Behind his helmet, I was sure he was glaring. "You couldn't have just cut through with the lightsabers?"

"Statement: Probably. But it was wise to be prepared for a sudden defeat and subsequent escape."

"…I can't argue with that. Now, where are we?"

"Statement: we are standing on top of what I determined to be the best point of entry for an underwater assault. If my calculations are correct, then Ventress' assault craft should be…" my sensors caught a gleam of red, "…there."

"…We're stealing Ventress' ship."

"Query: do you have a better plan?"

"…Hell no. Let's go.'

"Warning: I do intend to send a transmission to General Grievous during the course of our journey. You are free to listen in, but I would advise you not be seen. The General possesses a hatred for clones that almost matches his one for Jedi."

"…Let me get this straight; your plan consisted of 'kill the Sith and the Jedi, steal the Sith's ship, and then call up the Sith's friend to gloat, while on a ship that friend can track'?"

"Explanation: no, my plan was to kill the Sith and Jedi, steal the Sith's ship, then contact the Sith's ally of convenience to convey that he will no longer be forced to deal with either her or the Jedi that escaped him on Hypori. And then offer to send him said Jedi's lightsaber as a token of goodwill."

"…You really are crazy."

"Query: wouldn't you be, after being out of action for four thousand years?"

"…Udesii, HK. Udesii."

"Acknowledgement: of course."

As I watched the bodies of Shaak Ti and Asajj Ventress sink into the crushing depths, I was struck by a most irritating bout of sentiment. "Statement: you know Captain, I believe this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Jaing merely sighed. "Keep telling yourself that, darling."

Naturally. It was always good to practice lying to yourself, after all.