Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Sorry it took so long to update. I'll try to post this story more regularly but I can't guarantee it. Anyway, have fun reading and please review!

Chapter 6

The Duel

Day 2

Jolee opened his mouth, not even attempting to suppress the yawn. He had been standing in front of the Ebon Hawk, waiting for HK-47 to arrive for what seemed like practically the whole morning. The artificial lighting had been increasing rapidly in brightness as the day progressed, and Selkath, dock workers, and other incoming aliens were passing by more frequently.

"This is stupid," Jolee murmured to himself. "Since I know HK wouldn't back down from a fight, he's being late just to annoy me." Jolee sighed. "This whole fight thing is dumber than a Mandalorian mercenary anyway—"

"Hey! I heard that!"

Jolee turned around to find that Canderous was coincidentally right behind him, leaving from the Ebon Hawk.

"You know that I was joking, right?" Jolee asked, not wanting to be enemies with an assassin droid and a Mandalorian at the same time.

"You just better start watching out what you say," Canderous said, giving Jolee a cold stare, and continued to move down the ramp.

Jolee waited until he was out of sight before speaking again. "But in any case . . ." he nodded his head determinedly. "If you can win this one, Jolee, it'll really puncture that droid's pride! Now, that's worth seeing!"

"Query…"

Jolee already knew who the mechanical voice belonged to before turning around.

"Is it a human quality to talk to ones' self or is it a sign of extreme old age?"

Jolee chuckled. "Laugh all you want but I want to see how well you can use a melee weapon."

The droid seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Statement: I never agreed to fight with a melee weapon."

"Well, we have to make it fair," Jolee explained. He unhitched two vibroswords from his belt. "You'll fight with one and I'll fight with the other."

"Suggestion: How about we simply use whichever weapon we chose? You may use your Jedi lightsaber and I will use the upgraded assault rifle."

"You mean you can't use a melee weapon?" Jolee said, trying to sound incredulous and insulting. "A well-built, best-in-its-class assassin droid can't use a blade?"

HK-47's red eyes increased in intensity. "Statement: Of course I can use a melee weapon!"

"Well, then," Jolee said, approaching the droid and holding out a vibrosword, "use one."

HK-47 tilted his head from side to side, viewing the weapon from different angles.

"It's the sharp end you use to stab people with," Jolee said condescendingly, "and you hold—"

HK-47 grabbed the hilt and snatched the weapon out of the ex-Jedi's hands, nearly cutting him. "Statement: I know how to use a melee weapon."

The droid looked down at the mechanical hand gripping the weapon. He moved his arm as he scrutinized the blade.

Jolee cleared his throat. "So, weren't we going outside to do this?"

HK turned to Jolee. "Query: Why are you so insistent upon going to the dance with Mission? In my assessment, you have never displayed any feelings toward the Twi'lek, so I can only conclude that your desperation is the result of a hatred directed at me. Statement: You only wish to attend the dance with Mission because I want to."

"Well," Jolee said, knowing that he could not make a good argument against the droid's statement without lying, "I've never been mean towards her. While you, you're always mean to everyone!"

"Statement: That is no fault of mine. It is merely a part of my programming."

"Then you shouldn't be—ugh, look at what you've done! Got me all sidetracked, almost forgetting the duel. Let's go."

Jolee began to make his way toward the outside docks when HK-47 began to speak.

"Statement: It is rather interesting how I view this weapon more as a projectile than what its use should be."

Jolee let out an annoyed sigh. He keeps stalling! He turned back around but before he could speak a single word, he saw the polished object of a sleek vibrosword flying in his direction. He quickly leapt to one side as the sword skimmed his arm and fell to the ground with a clank.

"You were trying to kill me!" Jolee accused.

"Statement: Master ordered me not to kill anyone without her permission and, unfortunately, there were no orders for your death."

"Then why did you hurl a sword at me!"

"Query: You did not hear me pronounce the word 'catch'?"

Jolee grumbled to himself as he knelt down to pick up the weapon. He walked back to HK's position, holding out the blade. "Let me make this clear. When I give this back to you, I expect no more delays—no more comments and no more attempts on my life!"

"Reply: Understandable. I will comply."

Jolee handed over the vibrosword and once again turned back to the dock's exists.

"Query—"

"No!" Jolee exclaimed with irritation in his voice and abruptly turned around.

Suddenly, there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. A chill vibrated down his spine as his body turned numb. He inhaled, but it was a difficult and torturing process. He wanted to cry out but his throat was constricted and his head throbbed. He already knew what had happened but found himself looking down to see the vibrosword sticking into his body. It dawned upon him that he had walked right into it when he turned around. The last thing he remembered before collapsing was the assassin droid asking for confirmation if it had accidentally made an error in judging where to point the weapon.

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Zaalbar was trapped. Everywhere he looked, he was surrounded by dresses of all sizes, shapes, and styles. He nervously turned to a bright pink laced dress which was hanging next to him. He sneered at it, wondering why Mission had dragged him into an excessively feminine store only to ask him how she looked, which actually did not matter because every dress had something "wrong" with it. Either it was too lose, or too big, or too small, or too lacey, or anything else that was conceivable.

Mission suddenly emerged out of the dressing room, wearing a bright blue dress with many ruffles.

"How does this look?" Mission asked.

"It . . ." Zaalbar hesitated, knowing that even though Mission always came up with her own opinions, she weighed his as well, "matches your skin?"

Mission first looked down at herself, then turned to a large mirror on one of the walls of the store.

"You're right Big Z. It's disgusting! I mean, who wants to wear a dress that is the same color as their own skin? Obviously, this one was not made for a Twi'lek."

"I think we should try somewhere else," Zaalbar sighed.

"What do you mean?" Mission questioned.

"Well, you've already tried on millions of dresses and either they didn't fit or they were hideous."

"I've only tried on about ten dresses counting on the one I'm wearing now."

"Then they don't seem to have a good selection."

"Zaalbar, the store is three stories high and appeals to all the major races. They're bound to have something."

"It's too expensive!"

"Now you're just making up excuses. This store isn't that expensive. I mean, remember that one store we stopped by about an hour ago, Glamour Queen or something like that? Those were expensive."

"Still, it seems you aren't finding anything."

"Actually, I brought two dresses into the dressing room. I'll try one the other one and believe me, I think it might be a winner."

Mission exited. Zaalbar sighed to himself, realizing that Mission had said the same thing six dresses ago. However, when Mission came back out, Zaalbar was amazed.

"That looks great on you!" he exclaimed.

"You really think so?" Mission asked hopefully, turning to the mirror.

"It looks really nice."

"Good. I think it looks nice, too. Yeah, this'll be great!" She smiled at Zaalbar. "Now—your favorite part—how about I pay for this and we can get out of here!"

Zaalbar cheered.