Chapter Thirteen
Disclaimer: I do not own KotOR.
Note: So apparently I haven't updated this in nearly two months…whoops. Sorry about that.
"I'm sorry, but there is simply nothing that Czerka Corp can do to help you at this time," a representative was saying automatically as she flipped through a magazine when the group entered the Czerka Corp office they had been directed to. "Though we do thank you for taking the time to come door here and explain your concerns."
The Duros standing in front of the bored representative looked annoyed at failing to keep her attention and threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "What do you mean you can't help me? Your company wants the attacks by the sand people to stop and I know how to stop them! Just go buy that protocol droid that somehow knows how to speak the Sand People dialect and go talk to them!"
"Czerka Corp does not have the resources available to acquiesce with your request," the representative replied as she idly turned the page.
"Like I'll believe that," the Duros muttered bitterly. "But fine, how about this. I'll buy the damn droid and go see what the Sand People want. How does that sound?"
"Czerka Corp is not giving out any hunting licenses at this time," the representative said flatly.
"What?" Canderous cried out, horrified. "In addition to that making me miss my duel with Jagi and never being able to live it down – I mean, it's Jagi, me not showing up is honestly the only way he could ever stand a chance of winning – I was really looking forward to getting to slaughter the indigenous people…"
The representative perked up. "You know, now that I think of it Czerka Cop is able to issue one more license."
"My honor is safe!" Canderous cheered. "Though those Sand People won't be."
"Wait, wait, wait…" the Duros objected. "I've been coming in here for weeks now trying to get a license only to be rebuffed time and time again and a casual mention of genocide is enough to get you to change your tune? Just like that?"
"Of course," the representative said gravely. "Genocide is serious business."
"And you're encouraging it! No, more than that: you're enabling it! You humans are all racist," the Duros accused disgustedly as he turned to go.
"Tell me about it," Zaalbar agreed.
"I don't know," Mission disagreed. "Revan went through a great deal of trouble earlier today to prove that he wasn't. And given that this is Revan we're talking about that's even more impressive."
"True," Zaalbar agreed. He cleared his throat before trying his modified new catchphrase. "You humans besides Revan are all racist!"
"That doesn't quite have the same ring to it," the Duros declared shaking his head as he exited the building.
"Why can't we get a hunting license without agreeing to slaughter the Sand People wholesale?" Carth demanded.
"Because Czerka Corp isn't issuing any licenses at all but we do need those pesky natives out of the way," the representative explained patiently. "We will, of course, pay you for every one that you kill and a bonus for killing the chief. Just show me the staffs of the ones that you kill and we'll calculate how much you are owed from that."
"Revan, convince her to let us go into the desert without agreeing to commit genocide because Czerka can't be bothered to try and resolve this peacefully," Bastila hissed.
Revan yawned. "Why? Canderous already talked her into letting us through."
"But genocide is not the way of the Jedi!" Bastila protested.
Revan snorted. "Tell that to the Sith."
Bastila froze. "The Sith are not a separate species but misguided souls seduced by the dark side," she said carefully.
"You could always just, you know, lie," Carth suggested quietly. "We can get our license and then not actually keep our end of the deal."
Bastila looked torn. "I don't know…Lying isn't really the way of the Jedi, either."
"It's got to be more Jedi-like that genocide, right?" Carth asked rhetorically.
Bastila shot a discrete glance at Revan. "I suppose…"
"So are there any specifics?" Canderous asked as the Czerka representative handed him his license. "Like, do I get paid extra for bringing back body parts? What about methods of execution?"
The representative looked a little disturbed. "Just…just bring back the staffs and nothing else, alright. I really don't care how you do it. Czerka Corp just wants them dead."
"Will do," Canderous said cheerfully. "I just love it when employers give you creative freedom."
"That is deeply disturbing," Mission told him. "Or at least it would be if I really cared."
"We should get going," Zaalbar suggested. "Those Sand People aren't going to kill themselves and if they do then we're probably not going to get paid."
Once the exited the Czerka building they saw the Duros from before waiting for them. "You're not actually going to go along with this, are you?"
"We're undecided," Revan replied. "Why?"
"Because all of this is highly unnecessary and cruel!" the Duros exclaimed. "You don't need to kill them, especially since diplomatic communication hasn't even been attempted yet!"
"No one speaks the Sand People dialect so that would make that rather tricky," Zaalbar pointed out.
"Yeah," Mission nodded. "There are enough people in the galaxy who can't even understand Big Z." She jerked her head towards Carth.
"There is a droid in the Anchorage droid shop who claims to speak the language," the Duros revealed. "But I have no idea if this is true or not. He offered to demonstrate but since I don't speak the language myself I have no idea if all the guttural noises he was making was really it. Still, the chance that he does speak it and that he could use it to help resolve all of this peacefully is worth the 5000 credits."
"You honestly expect Revan to be willing to spend 5000 credits that easily when he could just kill everything?" Bastila asked skeptically. She needn't have worried, however.
"Droid shop?" Revan asked eagerly. "Where?"
"I think I'm in love," Revan declared dramatically as he stared at the rusty-red protocol droid before him.
"Oh good," Bastila deadpanned. "Does that mean you'll stop hitting on me?"
"Of course not," Revan replied cheerfully. "You're great and all Bastila, but you're just not a droid. Still, I'm nearly positive that that kind of a relationship is not legal on most planets and is really creepy on all of them."
"Uncertain pronouncement: You sound familiar…" the droid said slowly. "Joyful realization: Can it be? Master Revan?"
" 'Master' Revan, huh?" Carth said, eyeing him strangely. "I thought you said it wasn't like that."
"What?" Revan asked innocently. "It's not. Really."
"So this protocol droid knows you?" Mission asked, surprised. "What are the odds?"
"Pretty good, I'd say, since that's exactly what happened," Zaalbar answered.
"A protocol droid?" Canderous repeated. "Lame. You know what would be great, though? An assassin droid. Now that would be both useful and take everyone by surprise."
"Proud declaration: I am an assassin droid," the droid said proudly. "Perfunctory introduction: HK-47 at your service. Surprised admission: And I must say that you seem far more reasonable than most meatbags that I've had the dubious pleasure of encountering."
"Meatbags?" Canderous repeated, unsure whether or not he should be offended.
"He means 'non-droid'," Revan explained.
"Explanation: Malak asked me what I thought of him once," HK explained. "And I informed him of his meatbag status. He was very insulted but Revan thought it was funny and instructed me to keep referring to all meatbags as such."
Bastila looked like she was about to have a heart attack at the revelation.
"Wait, you knew Malak?" Carth asked, surprised. "As in Dark Lord of the Sith Malak?"
"Confirmation: Yes," HK confirmed.
"How do you know Revan, then?" Carth pressed.
"Obvious revelation: Revan built me," HK told them.
"I would normally find that to be a bit uncharacteristic of Revan," Mission said. "But given his droid fetish-"
"I do not have a droid fetish!" Revan insisted.
"You kind of do," Zaalbar disagreed.
"Well…maybe just a little," Revan admitted.
"So does that mean that you knew Malak, Revan?" Carth demanded. "Why wouldn't you tell me this? I knew I couldn't trust you!"
"Apparently because I am very untrustworthy," Revan said sardonically. "As for why I didn't mention it…I don't know. It didn't really occur to me to, I guess."
"You…You know Malak?" Bastila asked, looking just short of outright terrified.
Revan looked at her inquisitively. "Didn't you just hear HK announce that?"
"Well, yes," Bastila conceded. "But there's bound to be more than one Malak in the universe."
"Especially since 'Malak' wasn't even his real name," Revan agreed. "He just thought his real name was stupid and so changed it. Or maybe I was the one who thought it was stupid and started calling him Malak…he evidently felt the same or he probably wouldn't have started going by that himself."
"But how did you know him?" Carth asked suspiciously.
Revan merely shrugged. "Oh, you know…"
"No, I don't know," Carth countered. "Which is kind of why I'm asking."
"So, where's the salesperson?" Bastila asked hurriedly. "We should really just purchase this HK-47 and get a move on. We don't have all day, after all."
While she went off to go look for the shop's proprietor, Canderous realized something. "Don't get me wrong, I am in full support of purchasing HK since he's an assassin droid and that is all kinds of amazing but we haven't verified that he can speak the Sand People dialect yet. While I don't really have an interest in communicating with these people, it would seem a waste not to even find out if we can or not."
"Insulted assertion: I can assure you that I can, in fact, speak that barbaric dialect," HK said, offended.
"Well, that's certainly no language I recognize," Carth announced.
"That's really not saying all that much," Zaalbar pointed out.
"What did he say?" Carth asked, confused.
"He said 'You humans besides Revan are all racist,'" Mission helpfully translated.
"I did not!" Zaalbar exclaimed. He paused. "Well, not then at least."
"He can speak it," Revan confirmed.
"How do you know?" Canderous asked curiously.
"Because I can speak it, too," Revan replied. He knew that the others wouldn't be able to understand him but that was alright: the mere fact that they didn't know what he said would get the meaning of his words across.
"Then…why did we have to come in here and get an assassin droid?" Carth asked the obvious question. "Since we clearly don't need it."
"Because droids, particularly assassin droids, are the Force's gift to mankind," Revan explained. "And lest I get wrongly accused of racism, I should probably explain that by 'mankind' I don't just mean humans but rather all provably sentient life-forms."
"Well that's okay then," Mission allowed.
"Now that that's settled we really should be heading out to the desert," Bastila was protesting as she grudgingly followed everyone else into the Cantina. "We really don't have time for this anyway. And I'm sure my mother is fine! And since when does anyone besides Carth actually care if I get reunited with my evil mother or not?"
"We don't," Canderous explained. "But I'm not about to turn down the chance to get a drink."
"Or to play Pazaak," Mission piped up.
"Meeting a girl's parents is a very important part of any serious relationship," Revan told her.
"We're not in a relationship, Revan," Bastila reminded him.
"What, you don't think co-Republic's Only Hope people is serious?" Revan asked, shocked. "Bastila, I'm surprised at you!"
Bastila just rolled her eyes. "Let's just get this over with. She's over there."
Bastila pointed towards a middle-aged woman who did look remarkably like the Jedi Princess although Revan had far too strong of a self-preservation interest to ever even remotely imply that to his future love interest. He strolled right up to the woman with Bastila and, oddly enough, HK at his heels.
"So what's her name, anyway?" Revan wondered. "Or should I just call her 'Bastila's mother'?"
"Helena," Bastila said shortly.
"Helena Shan, got it," Revan said.
"Greetings, mother, I heard you were ill," Bastila said, sounding less enthusiastic than Revan had ever heard. It actually reminded him a little of himself. Why couldn't she be like that more often? Sure the universe might be conquered by the Sith but was that really such a huge problem?
"Who are…" Bastila's mother started to say. "Bastila, is that you?"
"You didn't recognize me?" Bastila said, a little bit of hopefulness creeping into her voice. "I guess that answers the question of whether we really look all that much alike."
"Amused theory: Or it could just mean that you're in denial," HK posited. "Of course, all meatbags look the same to me. Desperate plea: Can we kill this one, Master?"
"Bastila?" Revan left the decision up to her.
Bastila looked sorely tempted for a moment before she sighed. "It is not the Jedi way."
"What are you even doing here?" Helena demanded. "Don't tell me you're actually pretending to care that I'm deathly ill."
"You look fine," Bastila said dismissively after giving her mother the once-over.
"Yes, because all fatal diseases are immediately apparent the moment you lay eyes on a person, particularly when it's not near the end," Helena said sarcastically.
"See? This is why I never visit," Bastila shot back. "Well…that and the Jedi's policy of never keeping contact with your family for fear that your love for them might turn you evil."
"The Jedi have a really warped view of love," Revan noted, looking a little disturbed. Did he really want to romance someone who honestly thought that love was evil or, to be more precise, would turn you evil? Oh, who was he kidding? She was really pretty.
"Firm agreement: I agree. Definition: 'Love' is making a shot to the knees of a target 120 kilometers away using an Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope... Love is knowing your target, putting them in your targeting reticule, and together, achieving a singular purpose against statistically long odds," HK claimed.
"Well, I suppose their view could be worse," Revan conceded. "At any rate at least they even believe in it, unlike the Sith."
"I ran into someone who claimed to be a friend of yours," Bastila told her mother. "She said you were sick – which I don't believe for a minute – and that you were here. Where's Father? Since I'm here anyway and was forced to talk to you, I would like to try and salvage at least a part of this little visit and see him."
"Oh, you don't know?" Helena looked a little awkward. "A dragon ate him."
Bastila blinked. "Oh, well that's…that's not good. This is all your fault, isn't it? You always forced him to go off on treasure hunts because of your insatiable greed and you never even let me go along with him to try and make the trips somewhat bearable!"
"Are we remembering the same past?" Helena wondered aloud. "I hated those stupid treasure hunts your father kept insisting on going on but it was a living, poor though it may be. He was so passionate about it and so I couldn't find it in me to make him stop. Just the same, treasure hunting was no place for a little girl and so when the Jedi showed up and offered to take you I knew that I would at least be able to do that much for you."
"Liar!" Bastila cried. "You sent me away because you didn't want me!"
"I can see the years of separation have done wonders for your ability to look at things in an objective manner," Helena said dryly. "I loved you, Bastila, but I knew that the Jedi could give you a better life than your father and I could. Were you unhappy there?"
"Well…no," Bastila admitted. "But you still got Father killed!"
Helena sighed. "I tried to get him to stop treasure hunting or at least stick to less suicidal trips but he insisted on trying to pay for my treatments…"
"I knew it was your fault!" Bastila crowed triumphantly.
Revan, uncomfortable being placed in the odd position of the responsible one for once, spoke up hesitantly, "I'm sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?"
"My husband had a Holocron that I would like recovered if at all possible," Helena admitted. "But I can't possibly ask you to retrieve that for me. It is far too dangerous and I would never forgive myself if anything happened to my daughter as well."
"That settles it," Bastila declared. "We'll find Father's Holocron but then I'm going to keep it for myself since you're a horrible person, a worse mother, and got Father killed."
"Seriously, the Jedi think that the abandonment issues caused by cutting off contact from your family is a good idea?" Revan couldn't believe it.
"I don't know what you mean, Revan," Bastila said virtuously. "Now let's go, we have to reach the Star Map if we want to have any hope of saving the galaxy."
Revan stared at her as she walked off. "Okay, what just happened?"
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