The sea of white began to dissipate around him as Fell eased back the hyperdrive lever. The black reaches of space seeped in all around outside the cockpit, like swarm clouds of tiny black bugs. He was almost blinded when the pearlescent gilded gleam of Nar Shaddaa materialized a few klicks in front of him. From up here, it seemed so beautiful, glittering like pure gold. White nimbus clouds dotted the surface and enhanced its shine. The outline of the cityscape that covered the entire moon was faintly visible. They patterned themselves into large tetrahedrons that wrapped the center of the Smuggler's Moon like a girdle.
Nal Hutta slunk behind its moon as if it were ashamed to show itself. Compared to Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta was homely in complexion, just another world dotted with green and brown. Fell knew its appearance was deceiving; it was still the stronghold of the Hutts and their syndicates. Both the Republic and the Sith Empire of old always left the Hutts to their own devices, to govern their own space. That rule still stood now.
"Query." HK-47 sprung to life beside him. The droid turned to Fell and didn't pay mind to the gilded orb before them. "Where do you wish to land, meatbag? Statement: I have assembled a list of adequate loading bays and docks on the moon's surface. You need only say the word."
A dim blue light beamed up in front of Fell's face, the same color as a hologram. A series of dark blue blips followed a series of round chirps. Each appeared over a crude topological map of Nar Shaddaa's cityscape.
"This thing is probably a thousand years out of date," Fell grumbled. "Just like you." He stabbed an indignant finger into the waypoint farthest to his right and closest to the droid.
"Observation: Would I be wrong to assume you picked this because of the cantina in close proximity?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Fire erupted beneath Fell's skin.
"Retraction: Right, you are a different meatbag." The droid hung his head for a moment. "A previous accomplice of a previous master of mine had a great love for the bottle, and would always demand we dock nearest the local watering hole when traversing worlds. Commentary: Meatbags are so peculiar in their wants.
"Condemnation: He was taking to the bottle when my master engaged my assassination protocol. I started a brawl in the bar we were in and used the chaos to slash his throat with his own broken bottle. Fawning: The intimacy of close combat always drives me wild."
Fell groaned and shook his head. "Why do you remember this, yet refuse to provide whatever it is my master wants of you?"
"Clarification: Meatbag, it is as I said on Ossus," the droid's scarlet photoreceptors seemed to cut right through him. "Reiteration: I will repeat what I said before, and perhaps your fleshy aural sacs will hear this time. My assassination protocol is locked until one of my memory cores is reactivated. I do not know what, or if anything, will reactivate it.
"I have been in disrepair for some time, meatbag." HK-47 looked away, out towards Nar Shaddaa. "Suggestion: It may be that this module the master seeks simply does not exist anymore."
She won't like that. "You talk too much, droid," Fell said. "Point me to the LZ."
"Affirmation: Yes, Captain Meatbag." HK-47 made a mock salute. "I am bound to your command."
Fell sighed and looked over at the droid. "Don't mock me."
HK-47 returned his look with a soulless glare. "Jest: Meatbag, you have not yet heard mockery." HK-47 crossed his arms around his segmented torso. "Query: Shall I activate my 'Mockery' protocol for you?"
Fell's eyes were focused on the landing zone coordinates that began to materialize in front of him where the map had been. He steered the ship in that direction and then engaged the landing preparation system.
"Go ahead, relic." He turned to the droid with a cocky grin, his white teeth gleaming in the cockpit's gloom. "Make my day." The more he looked at the droid, the more Fell realized he made a mistake. A meatbag like him would have laughed and japed with him. There would have been camaraderie. This cold machine just stared at him without any sound except whirring rotors and the clicks of pins and other small machined parts.
"Mockery," the droid started. The word seemed to slither out of its vocabulator like a snake through a tunnel. Fell grimaced and ground his teeth when the droid played back a crisp recreation of his own grunting and groaning.
"Enough." What else has this thing recorded?
Cinder had appeared behind them now, as if from the dark itself. She had ditched her typical black attire for that which befit a traveling Jedi: brown linen robes instead of inky black, a beige roughspun tunic and pants, and brown knee-high boots. Ringed bands of silver held her hair back in a messy bun.
"Greeting: Master, we have almost arrived on Nar Shaddaa," HK-47 said as he rotated his seat towards Cinder. "Apology: Forgive my mockery, for I was provoked."
Cinder waved her hand to silence him, then stepped in front of Fell.
"Where are we landing?" She did not care to lean down to his level, instead peering past him at the golden moon.
"Eastern side of the city," Fell said. "Nearest a joint called the Viridian Slug."
"A dive, I presume?" Cinder turned around and looked back towards him. His eyes caught hers, but there was no feeling in them.
"Yeah, dive bar. There were several, all good choices for locating our navigator."
"A good enough start." Cinder was already on her way out when Fell turned to face her. "I'll meet you in the cargo hold when we land."
Fell and the droid sat in silence for a few moments. Light began engulfing the cockpit as The Ashen One drew closer to Nar Shaddaa. Soon enough, all they could see was gold. The droid broke the silence as they broke the atmosphere.
"Accusation: Meatbag, I find your interest in my master most alarming."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Fell scoffed.
"Declaration: I must warn you that if you make any advances towards the Master, then my hand will be forced." HK-47 rose and Fell did the same. He kept his cool, though he was disappointed the droid dwarfed him by a couple inches. "Perhaps my mockery will keep you at bay."
"Advances? What are you talking about?" Fell thrust a finger into the droid's broad chestplate. "She is a mother to me. What is this?"
"Repudiation: When has that stopped a man before?" HK-47 leaned down and raked a segmented metal hand across the butt of his carbine, which sat leaned against the cockpit's back wall.
"Don't let me get between you and your lust, machine." Fell bristled up. Maybe I should take my chances and reduce this thing to scrap.
"Rejection: Then perhaps make your feelings line up with your actions."
Fell laughed. "Feelings? I'll kill her the second I know I can. That's what I've been trained for. By her, in case you forgot."
The droid took his carbine in hand and leveled the barrel at the bridge of Fell's nose. "Declaration: As long as I still live, you will do no such thing." HK-47 was as still as his gun. "Jest: Forgive me meatbag, but I do not envision you reducing me to scrap anytime soon. A good many have tried, but none have ever succeeded. I assure you, neither will you.
"Command: Reconsider your vow of seeing the master dead."
"Yes, certainly," Fell rolled his eyes. He did not know what possessed this machine. "I will stop, and I promise that she will not die by my hand." I saved her damned life, is that not good enough for you, droid?
HK-47 lowered the gun at last and placed it back in its spot. He returned to his seat and faced the cockpit visor. It was beginning to fill in with misshapen buildings and streets, like a lumpy grey porridge.
"Statement: We will land shortly." The droid did not even think to look at Fell. "Best make preparations with the Master."
As Fell began to walk out, he heard the servos in the droid's legs creak as he rose.
"Command: Do not speak of what transpired, meatbag."
Fell sighed and continued out. He stopped for a moment in the terminus. Anger shot through him. The next thing he knew, he was holding his clenched fist. His eyes looked up, then down again, and then found a dent in the side of the holotable.
"Maybe you lust after her, you decrepit freak," Fell grumbled under his breath. He made his way out into the hall and began to head towards the cargo area. He would be the first to admit that he found a certain allure to Cinder, perhaps in her demeanor. I will have him for scrap at the first opportunity.
Once he reached the cargo hold, he took a seat on top of a plasteel crate, its faces decorated with a peculiar pattern of a circle inside a cross. He swayed his legs back and forth, his heels slamming hard against the crate. They would leave scuffs to be sure, and Cinder would scold him, but that would be nothing compared to the scathing he would get for smashing her table.
"Lord Fell." He perked up at the sound of her voice.