Chapter 7

Help Wanted

After wavering in and out of sleep, Jolee finally opened his eyes in a fully conscious state. His first sight was a ceiling with a bright but soft light above. He blinked a few times, feeling uncertain of where he was until he turned his head towards a wall, recognizing it as being part of the Ebon Hawk's infirmary.

"Take it easy," the voice of Carth said. "You've been asleep for quite a few hours now."

Jolee turned to the other side to see Carth sitting on a stool beside his bed.

"What happened?" Jolee asked in a sore voice.

"From what I know, the HK contacted Bastila, saying that you were hurt," Carth explained, "and after that, she contacted me and when I got here, she, the droid, and other Selkath officials were surrounding the area. They brought you inside and a doctor came by to check you up. He says you'll be fine but should rest for a while."

"HK," Jolee said, his voice rising in anger. "That droid stabbed me!"

"It said it was an accident."

"Accident!" Jolee exclaimed. "First it tried to hurl the sword at me but missed. Then, right when I was turning around, it stabbed me!"

Carth shook his head. "I don't know about that. HK wouldn't kill without his master's permission, unless you were somehow provoking it."

"Provoking it? I was innocent!"

"Well, HK doesn't even use melee weapons. Says that it's not part of its programming."

"'Not part of its programming' my ass! That thing stabbed me on purpose!"

Carth sighed. "You'd think that if the droid wanted to stab you, it could've done so a long time ago."

"It didn't have a grudge against me a long time ago! Now it does."

Carth raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Jolee nodded, propping himself up with one of his elbows. "We both want to go to the dance with Mission."

Carth tried to hold back his laughter, but failed miserably. He slapped his hand over his mouth and leaned forward.

"I don't see what's so funny!" Jolee exclaimed.

It took Carth a couple of moments before he could speak again. He took a deep breath. "You and the droid want to go to the dance with Mission!"

"I don't know how the droid knew but I'm positive it only wants to go with her because I want to."

Carth continued trying to hold in his laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jolee mumbled, "you can laugh all you want. You're not in this situation. You didn't have some crazy droid trying to stab you!"

Carth took in a deep breath. His face was flushed but his muscles were relaxed, no longer feeling the uncontrollable urge to laugh. However, his countenance shifted swiftly into distress, as if he had never laughed in the first place. "I know I shouldn't be laughing, but I guess it's just because I haven't laughed at anything for a while."

"Why don't you tell Grandpa Jolee all about it?"

When Carth did say anything, Jolee thought that he did not want to talk about it but then, he finally spoke. "I took your advice. I approached Ayla and asked her if she wanted to go to the dance with me but…she said she was already going with someone else—with Canderous."

"Huh," Jolee commented, somewhat surprised by Ayla's choice.

"But that's only half of it. Ayla suggested that since she was taken, I could go with Bastila. Naturally, I refused, but Ayla kept pushing it so I gave in."

"You're going with Bastila?" Jolee asked.

Carth did not reply but continued talking. "Little did we know, though, that Bastila was listening to us! Right after I agreed, she came in and was literally fuming at the idea. And so, she's mad at me, but worst of all, she's furious at Ayla." Carth shook his head. "Ayla didn't do anything wrong. In fact, she wanted me to go to the dance with Bastila because Bastila's been really…uptight during these past few days and thought I could help her to relax. Now, Bastila's mood is worst and she'll just keep blaming Ayla because it was Ayla's idea."

"Ayla is in quite a tough spot but I don't think there's much you could do about it," Jolee said. "By the sound of it, this is something between Bastila and Ayla with the whole 'you need to act more like a stuck-up Jedi' thing. Don't let yourself get caught in the middle of it. And don't blame yourself either."

"There's more, though, and that is Canderous. I don't have the vaguest notion on why that…Mandalorian would want to go with such a…nice woman as Ayla to a sophisticated dance!"

Jolee shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's a Mandalorian thing?"

"I don't think so."

"Then what do you think?"

Carth hesitated for a moment. "I don't trust him. I think he's doing this as a blow to me. He's taking my number one choice to the dance just to spite me."

Jolee cleared his throat. "When I was told you were paranoid, boy she wasn't kidding!"

"Who said that?"

"Umm…" Jolee hesitated, "doesn't matter. Anyway—"

"Hey, I'd like to know who said that!"

"Said what?"

"W-what you just said! About me being paranoid."

"About you being what?"

Carth gave Jolee a blank stare. "Forget it."

"All right then, where was I? Oh, yes, Ayla and Canderous. How do you know that maybe Ayla and Canderous perhaps just want to go to the dance together because they're friends?"

"Friends?"

"Sure. Haven't you noticed? Ayla and Canderous actually talk quite a bit. He tells her war stories."

Carth folded his arms and looked at the ground. "I didn't know he told her gruesome stories about Mandalorian slaughterings."

Jolee chuckled. "We actually have a similar problem, don't we?"

Carth looked back at the ex-Jedi. "What do you mean?"

"You hate Canderous and think he's going to the dance just to annoy you or whatever. I don't like the HK and think he's going with Mission to annoy me." Jolee smiled. "Maybe we can help each other out."

"How?"

"I could arrange for Ayla to go to the dance with you and you can get that droid away from Mission—it'll probably stab her next for all we know!"

Carth thought for a moment. It sounded great to have an ally, but he knew that there was something about it that just did not sound quite right. Perhaps it would only worsen the situation, making Ayla and Bastila more furious at themselves and him. However, the opportunity of a second chance with Ayla outweighed all the possible negative outcomes.

"Alright," Carth agreed.

Jolee smiled. "Don't worry, Carth, you'll be agreeing with Ayla to go to the dance with her in no time!"

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"Statement: This idea of yours has gone too far. I am going to pull out now while that opportunity is still available."

T3-M4 beeped a question.

"Query: Why would I care about that old meatbag Jolee? This change of thought has nothing to do with that incidence—which was his fault to begin with. It is because this whole episode can have serious repercussions concerning my character. The crew will no longer think of me as a dangerous assassin droid but as that 'funny' droid who went to the dance with Mission."

T3-M4 gave a series of beeps.

"Statement: I longer care what that pilot said. This is not worth the effort. Query: Why don't you go to the dance if you care so much?"

The utility droid gave a few pleading beeps.

"No."

The T3 gave a couple of sad beeps.

"Indeed, your statement is quite correct. I am a 'meanie.'"

T3-M4 extended one of his arms and shocked the HK. In response, the assassin droid armed its assault rifle, aiming it at the little utility droid.

"Threat: You will regret you did that you insignificant heap of scrap metal!"

The droid responded with a threat of its own.

"Query: And who will believe you?"

The T3 showed only a glimpse of what it had recorded.

"You were watching that!"

The T3 chimed in an agreement.

"Statement: It appears, then, that you are trying to blackmail me. In a normal circumstance, I would respond by blowing you to bits but considering the tight security on this planet, I suppose I have no alternative but to continue this charade."

T3-M4 beeped a hopeful question.

"Fine! I'll take a look inside the building!"

The T3 beeped excitedly as HK-47 went through a nearby door and emerged in a men's formal clothing store. It was large and spacious, but crowded at this time with many Selkath men and other males from different species, all being measured and fitted with the help of personal assistance droids.

One of the droids instantly approached the HK.

"What do you want?" it rudely asked.

"Statement: I want a tuxedo," HK-47 replied abruptly.

"Wait here."

The droid turned and approached a young Selkath male near where HK-47 was standing.

"How may I be of service?" the droid asked politely.

"It's all right, I'm being helped already," the Selkath responded.

The droid then walked away from the young Selkath towards HK-47. However, it moved right pass the HK, taking no notice.

"Query: Why are you ignoring me?" it asked.

"You're still here?" the droid groaned.

"Demand: I need a tuxedo! Do you have one or not?"

"Of course we have tuxedos! However, your master should come himself in order to be fitted. It would be much easier. That is, unless you have the measurements and know exactly—"

"This tuxedo will be for myself!"

The droid stared blankly for a moment, as if still trying to process and interpret the request. "You're joking,"

"No. I'm very serious."

"What would you need a tuxedo for?"

"The dance."

The droid hesitated for a moment.

"Wait here."

The personal assistance droid left HK-47 still standing near the entrance. After a few minutes, it figured that the droid would not return and decided to search for a tuxedo on its own when that same droid and many others appeared. HK-47 stared at them, confused. Query: How many droids does it take to get a tuxedo?

"This droid wants a tuxedo," the same droid said, addressing the others, "for itself!"

Suddenly, all the droids broke down in a mechanical and synchronized laughter. HK-47's eyes turned a bright red. It did not like to be mocked at, especially by members of its own kind. They were all then silent.

"That was so funny, I almost short circuited," one of the droids in the group commented, and they continued laughing.

HK-47 clenched his fists. It so desperately wanted to kill them but was very much aware of the planet's strict laws about violence. However, HK felt something surge in its memory bank. Something from long ago was pulsating throughout its body and into its limbs. Something was rising; something which was erased, an old program, was taking form, and would have done so completely, if not an old Selkath had stepped between the assassin droid and its mockers. The program was never manifested and was forgotten.

"What's going on here?" the old Selkath demanded, addressing the droids.

"Master," one of the droids replied, "that. . . machine there wants a tuxedo …for itself!"

"Has it got the credits?" the elderly Selkath asked.

The droids exchanged glances.

"Have you got the credits?" one asked.

"Yes. I have plenty." HK-47 responded.

"How much?" the Selkath questioned.

HK-47 hesitated, but realized that a blaster rifle was at its side if anything strange were to happen. "About a thousand."

"Then find it a tuxedo!" the Selkath yelled. "Its got credits and, if you were nicer, might have given you all a nice tip, but I guess that's out of the question now."

The old Selkath walked off, seemingly smug with his last statement. Immediately, HK-47 was surrounded by personal assistance droids, all wanting to help and all wanting credits.