Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Bioware, Disney, et al. and whoever they sell the rights to next own Star Wars and Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. I write this for fun and not for any monetary gain.
Chapter 10: Anchorhead
On the way to Tatooine, the Sith couple decided to take the opportunity to sort out their lightsaber situation, having found a bunch of crystals on Dantooine and salvaged some lightsaber trophies from Sherruk. With that in mind, they went to the workbench room on the Ebon Hawk, which also contained Davik's swoop bike. Canderous stood in the room, watching the couple from a safe distance as they worked.
Revan had his work cut out for him, having only the very basic weapon he constructed during his Jedi Trials. In the depth of hyperspace, he began working, disassembling the entire lightsaber into its constituent parts. He cast aside the blue colour crystal given to him by Zhar Lestin and replaced it with a red crystal, matching his old weapon before the Jedi destroyed it. With the new red crystal polished and cut to the shape required, he turned his attention to the strange dark blue power crystal he discovered. He reached out with the Force to feel how it should be used. Minutes later, he had his answer. He cut the crystal as it was meant to be, placing it next to the red colour crystal. Finally, he put the Sigil crystal he found from Nemo's body on the other side of the red colour crystal.
Beside him, Bastila did something similar with the yellow power crystal that her Master found in the cave. It was, in a sense, paired with the crystal that he would put into his lightsaber, and she loved the idea of having a matching crystal with her lover and so much more. She absently touched her neck, only to remember she wasn't allowed to wear her slave collar outside of the bedroom until she had mastered the art of illusions. She dearly hoped that would be sooner other than later. Nevertheless, she continued her work, slotting the mysterious crystal into her lightsaber next to her yellow colour crystal, replacing the Damind crystal that she had, but kept the Sapith crystal. She put the crystal assembly back into her double-bladed lightsaber and placed the hollow power cylinder around it, ensuring that the assembly would power both ends of her blade as needed. Satisfied with her work, she ignited her blade, seeing the familiar yellow appear, only stronger this time. She brandished it for a bit, before turning to watch her Master work.
While she watched, Revan assembled his lightsaber, placing a solid power cylinder behind his crystal assembly before assembling the rest of his blade. Instead of standard issue Jedi materials, he acquired some custom parts from a smith on Dantooine, constructing a lightsaber truly fitting for the Dark Lord of the Sith. With the blade finally assembled, he ignited it, only to be shocked by the colour—instead of the red blade he was expecting, he instead got a purple blade.
"What happened?" Bastila asked. "Didn't you put in a red crystal?"
"This has to be the work of the mysterious blue power crystal," he deduced instantly. To test his hypothesis, he quickly took out the crystal assembly and removed the crystal in question and turned the weapon back on. As predicted, a red blade showed up.
"So what are you going to do, Master?" his girlfriend asked. "Are you going to keep the power crystal?"
"I think I'll keep the purple colour," he decided. While putting the crystal back, he continued, "Purple is a rare colour, but one wielded by both Jedi and Sith. During our mission, this ambiguity is valuable—we can convince both sides that we are on their side."
"But you wouldn't look the same as you did before. Isn't there value in looking the same you did when you take back the Sith, as if nothing had happened?" she pointed out despite secretly hoping her Master would keep the crystal paired with hers.
"Maybe that's for the best," he decided. "I switched to the red blade to match the traditional colour used by the ancient Sith, but there's no reason why my iteration of Sith has to follow those ancient ways, not when those teachings are flawed. Malak certainly embraced those ancient ways a lot more than I ever did, as evidenced by his betrayal. Perhaps it is better to place some distance between us and those traditions, starting with the very obvious lightsaber colour…"
"It was a purple blade that slew Mandalore," Canderous interjected. "That will always be the colour I associate with you, Revan."
"Yes, it was always my favourite colour," he admitted. "Even when I used a red lightsaber to claim continuity with the Sith, my second lightsaber, when I choose to dual wield, has always been purple. No reason why that couldn't be flipped." He ignited the blade again, showing off the purple hue.
"Does this mean I can keep my yellow blade when we take back the Sith?" Bastila wondered. She really was very fond of the colour.
"You always could," he confirmed.
With that surprise out of the way, they continued their work. Revan converted the backup green lightsaber he claimed from Sherruk to red, customizing it for his own use as opposed to that of its previous Jedi owner. He added the Rubat and Bondar crystals he found in the cave inside, as they were better than nothing. He opted to keep the blue lightsaber he claimed from the Endar Spire, so that he could dual wield purple and red or purple and blue depending on who his audience was.
Bastila, on the other hand, decided to build herself a completely new double-bladed lightsaber, for the backup she claimed from Sherruk wasn't her preferred style of weapon. For her new lightsaber, she assembled it with one of the yellow crystals and Rubat she found in the caves along with the Damind crystal she removed from her primary weapon. This took her a while, but the benefits were well worth it as she had trained on Vaapad exclusively with saberstaffs, igniting each end when the need arose.
Other than lightsaber construction, Bastila also practiced some techniques under her Master's supervision, such as Force Lightning, illusions, and blocking Lightning with her bare hands. The journey across the length of the galaxy was a fruitful one, all things considered. The only downside was that they did not sleep as well as they could, having to use separate rooms. Bastila suffered especially, plagued by dreams of her captivity on Taris. With her beloved by her side and surrounded by his powerful presence in the Force, she had dreamed of him being her "captor," treating her in ways she secretly enjoyed. Without him, she dreamed of the Black Vulkars and Brejik instead, the horrors jolting her awake. Her collar was the only thing that brought her comfort—it reminded her that she belonged to Revan, who loved her and would protect her from all harm.
Soon, the secret pair of Sith found themselves landing in Anchorhead.
"We better get out of these Jedi robes before we head out," Revan suggested.
"Why is that?" Bastila asked out of curiosity. "It's not like Tatooine is hostile to the Jedi." Nevertheless, she obeyed him, starting to untie her robes as they walked out of the cockpit. It was only natural since she trusted him and had chosen to submit to him.
"I stationed guards on all Star Map planets outside of the Republic to deal with any Jedi looking where they shouldn't. It's the Jedi Council's best hope of victory, after all. I doubt Malak is foolish enough to remove them. He would suspect someone is hunting the Star Maps if the guards were killed, especially on multiple planets," the Sith Lord explained.
His apprentice quickly caught on. "And the Jedi Council, in all their wisdom, thinks we should walk openly as Jedi. What would Malak think if he saw Jedi appearing on Tatooine, Kashyyyk, and Manaan? I really should question their ideas more."
They quickly went into their own rooms to change into some everyday clothing that would not stand out. Letting the rest of their crew guard the ship, they brought Canderous with them as they descended from the Ebon Hawk.
A "customs officer"—really, a representative of Czerka corporation—showed up to collect a docking fee. Revan refused to fund a corporation that practiced slavery, having seen the depravity when he last visited Kashyyyk, and instead waved his hand, intoning, "I don't need to pay the fee, ever." He personally disliked the idea of messing with the minds of sentients, especially after the Jedi messed with his mind, but decided that funding slavery was a worse evil, especially when there would be no lasting harm to this employee of Czerka corporation—not from a very mild compulsion to do something already within the man's discretion.
"Actually, never mind, you don't need to pay the fee," the officer replied in monotone. "This covers future landings as well."
Wondering what other things Czerka corporation had been up to, the Sith Lord quickly convinced the customs officer to reveal it all. It appeared that Czerka corporation's boom during his previous visit had been temporary. The ore they had managed to mine turned out to be flawed, and the company had since pivoted to other forms of business—like charging people docking fees, or trading in hunting trophies.
Entering Anchorhead proper, the Mandalorian commented, "I can't believe how many people Force persuasion work on. The galaxy must be filled with weak-minded fools."
"Are you so sure of that?" Revan inquired. "Few in this galaxy could resist mind domination by the Dark Lord of the Sith."
"Try me," Canderous volunteered, exactly as the Sith intended.
Revan grinned, reaching out to the Mandalorian's mind with his full power. "Thou shalt kneel before me," he declared, imposing the full strength of his will upon him, overcoming his natural resistance to humble himself in such a way.
Canderous lowered himself, bending his knee, before suddenly snapping out of it. To outsiders, it looked like nothing, but he knew what the Sith had almost made him do and how he let go at the last second, no doubt to spare him the embarrassment.
"Do you doubt me still?" the Sith Lord asked once the Mandalorian warrior got back on his feet. His sense of superiority had ceased to be funny a while ago. Revan hoped the display would instill some modesty, as unlikely as that would be.
The party of three soon entered the local cantina. While the Mandalorian went off to get a drink, Bastila spotted her mother, in a corner all by herself. It appeared that all the other patrons avoided her, from which she deduced that her mother was as repulsive as she had remembered. Her boyfriend followed her as she approached her mother.
"Yes? I am sorry, do I know you?" asked the woman with annoyance, not even bothering to look at the newcomer in the face.
"I am here, Mother. Or don't you recognize me?" asked the Sith apprentice, full of resentment at the sight of the one who had abandoned her to the Jedi.
The mother finally looked up. "So you are finally here, Bastila. Do you know how long I've been trying to find you?" she asked with an edge.
"Why were you even trying to find me? I seem to recall you being rather eager to hand me over to the Jedi," Bastila shot back just as viciously.
Helena Shan seemed to deflate at those words. "It was the worst decision of my life. I have regretted it every day since. I don't know why I felt so strongly about handing you over to the Jedi… I knew we couldn't give you the life you deserved, but could the Jedi? As far as I can tell, all the Jedi I have met shun all luxury and don't even try to enjoy life. And with the recent wars, so many Jedi have died… And you, Bastila, you are a household name now… I can tell you don't like the attention whenever you appear on the Holonet, and the Sith must be looking for you…" Her voice broke. "I just wanted you to be safe and happy, Bastila."
"Really, Mother? What about the fact I never even got a chance to say goodbye to Father?" the daughter raged. "You just handed me over to the Jedi when he was away! He must have been heartbroken when he found out! What could possibly justify that?"
The mother winced, no doubt remembering the fallout of that decision. "Well, isn't this a lovely reunion?" she asked sarcastically, offering no explanation. She turned to the man standing next to her daughter. "Tell me... you're one of her friends. Do you treat your mother this way?"
Revan frowned at her lack of explanation. Was Bastila's mother really so heartless as to deny her husband and daughter that? No, for she wouldn't have regretted it if she was indeed that cruel. Then, was it the Jedi who wanted to sever the connection his beloved had with her father as soon as possible? It was horrific, yet totally in character for them. So why didn't Helena blame them? Something didn't add up. "Can you two please calm down?" he asked. "I find the decision to send Bastila away rather suspicious…"
"Are you accusing me?" challenged Helena.
"I am not accusing you. You have to admit though, it's strange that you suddenly felt so strongly about it, not remembering why, and immediately regretted it. It's almost as if…" Beside him, his girlfriend's expression turned to shock as she deduced what he was thinking. He cut himself off, hoping he was wrong. To the mother, he asked, "When did you get the idea to send Bastila away to the Jedi?"
"A Jedi visited us when Bastila was very young. They asked us to hand her over to the Jedi so she could be trained. They pointed out how it was her destiny, with her having that magical power and all. They said that she had the potential to be one of the greatest Jedi ever. But I don't want to be removed from my only daughter's life, and I wanted her to be happy, without the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, so I told them no. You weren't around for this, Bastila, but they tried to convince me many times. The last time, they succeeded. Somehow, they convinced me that it was the best for you, to hand you over to them right there and then, before your father came home…" the mother explained.
"Can you show me the memory?" asked the Sith Lord, who frowned at the explanation.
"How can I do that?"
"Think of when the Jedi convinced you to give Bastila away. I can probe your mind to see it."
Helena did as he asked. Examining the memory, Revan soon blew up. "The nerve of the Jedi! But why am I even surprised at this point?"
Bastila's expression turned to horror. "Please tell me the Jedi didn't mind-trick her into giving me away…"
"I wish I could, Bastila…" he replied sadly.
"No… NO!" she started shaking in rage. The Sith Lord could sense her emotions running out of control. Inside the cantina, an unseen force exerted itself over the patrons, making them feel rather uncomfortable. Every single drink was agitated, and the carbonated ones bubbled over, resulting in looks of confusion. He looked at her and saw her eyes turning yellow. Anger radiated out of her. On a table somewhere, a glass shattered, turning everyone's head. Reacting quickly, he used the Force to freeze her and suppress her telekinesis to prevent her from destroying the cantina.
Let me go, Master! she raged mentally. Those fucking Jedi! They all need to die!
Control yourself, Bastila. There are no Jedi here. You'll destroy the whole cantina! her Master warned.
Why, Master? Isn't that what a Jedi would say?
I am not asking you to bury your feelings, or release them into the Force, or other such nonsense. I am ordering you to save the anger for when we deal with them. Emotions are powerful, but we do not let them control us. Be patient, Bastila. You will get your revenge. You shall unleash this anger when we fight the Jedi Masters, but not here, not against innocents.
The Sith apprentice finally regained control of herself a minute later. I am sorry, Master, she apologized to him. She poured out her thoughts, "All these years, the Jedi told everyone that all the parents gave their children up willingly. Perhaps after persuasion, but not the Force kind. Sometimes I wondered if the parents were truly capable of informed consent, without knowledge of the Force, without knowledge of what truly goes into being Jedi. Yet, I thought, who could really make such decisions properly? The child certainly can't, not at their age. It only really makes sense for the child to consent when they are older."
"And we both know the Jedi dogma can only be truly believed when brainwashed as early as possible," the Sith Master noted. "I don't doubt the official policy is to only collect children from consenting parents, but the Jedi have been known to bend the rules when it suits them," he continued bitterly, sharing a glance with her. "If they always succeed in persuading parents to hand their children over, someone is going to suspect something untoward sooner or later, so it's probably not a habit."
"So perhaps it was just me or only a few others? But why me?" Bastila asked in desperation.
"Perhaps they knew of your potential with battle meditation then, even if they said nothing," suggested Revan. "Or perhaps it is just the more powerful individuals. When it comes to 'serving a greater purpose,' the Jedi would forsake all their vaunted principles for it. This we have seen with our own eyes."
"Perhaps, but we probably will never know," she sighed. "No doubt the feeling of abandonment helped shape my previous devotion to the Jedi Order. I shudder to think of who I would be today, if it weren't for… my friend here." She almost slipped up and said "my Master." That would have been awkward. "Would I think all emotional attachments can only end in pain and shun it all like the other Jedi? And I can't believe they would complain about using the Force to save a few credits from criminal enterprises when they would use it to destroy a family."
Revan looked rather distant, thinking about his family—the family he never knew. He wondered if they had cared for him and had been mind-tricked into giving him away. He wondered if they still lived, after almost a decade of war. Even a hardened warrior was not immune to such thoughts. He sighed, accepting that he probably would never know. He had Bastila, and that was enough for him.
His musings were interrupted by Helena, who finally processed what had happened. "Those Jedi scumbags... they'll pay for what they did!" Turning to the couple, she asked, "So what are you two now?"
Bastila didn't know how to answer. "We are not Jedi anymore, if that's what you mean. We are disgusted by their actions, their indifference to death and suffering, and most of all, their hypocrisy. We want this to stop. If that means the destruction of the Order, so be it."
"I meant your relationship," her mother clarified. "You two seem rather close."
"He's my boyfriend," the daughter explained quickly, fortunately without slipping up.
"Seems like we haven't been introduced properly," Helena started. "I am Helena Shan, Bastila's mother." She stuck out her right hand for a handshake.
"Erich Bond," Revan replied. He was uncomfortable with the alias, but giving out his real name would have been too dangerous.
"There is something you aren't telling me…" Helena's eyes narrowed in suspicion, perhaps sensing his discomfort. "But that can wait until later... I am afraid I have bad news for you, Bastila." A sob escaped her.
"What is it, mother?" the daughter asked, suddenly worried.
"I don't know how to put this nicely, so I'll just say it. Your father is dead, Bastila… That was part of the reason why I was looking for you."
"What happened to him? Another treasure hunt?"
"Yes, unfortunately. Your father was looking for krayt dragon pearls. He took an expedition to the desert and he died."
"No, Father is an experienced hunter. He's not so easily killed," she tried to deny.
"They were attacked by a krayt dragon and one of the guides fled the battle. He saw your father killed."
Bastila leaned on her boyfriend's shoulder and started crying. There was no need to feign indifference or look tough now that she had rejected the Jedi teachings.
"That's terrible," he sympathized as he embraced his love. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked her mother.
"Yes, actually. Can you please find his holocron? So Bastila and I can have something to remember him by…" she requested, referring to the datacron he had. "I understand if this is too much."
"Do you know where he died?" Revan asked.
"I believe he headed towards the Sand People enclave and turned east. The surviving guide mentioned something about a cave that was the lair of the krayt dragon," the mother answered.
"Interesting. Could it be the same cave as the Star Map?" he said mostly to himself.
Bastila looked at her Master, who gave her a nod. She turned around and faced her mother. "We will see if we can find the datacron," she agreed.
The mother nodded. "Then go, you two."
Summoning Canderous, the Sith Lord led his party to the Czerka offices for a hunting licence, as it was necessary to leave the city of Anchorhead. As it turned out, Czerka wasn't interested in selling hunting licenses anymore. Instead, they offered him a licence in exchange for stopping the attacks from a particular tribe of Sand People on Anchorhead, as well as credits for every gaffi stick turned in. It wasn't a bad deal, so he agreed, especially since there were no consequences if he failed to stop the attacks.
When they left the offices, a Duros conservationist showed up, and tried to convince them that the Sand People were merely misunderstood, and that somehow, there could be a peaceful solution, if only they could get a translation droid… The Sith found his premise questionable, but agreed to consider it so he would leave.
"Do you think the Sand People are worth negotiating with?" asked Bastila when the Duros was out of earshot.
"You can't seriously be considering negotiation with people that attack on sight!" the Mandalorian protested.
"I know their kind somewhat, having dealt with them before. They are intelligent and capable of communication, like the conservationist said, despite what most people think," the Sith Master explained. "Unfortunately, they are rather extreme in their beliefs, for example, believing all machines to be 'unnatural' and therefore evil. This may have something to do with what the Rakata did to them ages ago, the scars deep in their collective psyche… They treat any opposition to their beliefs as blasphemy, their idea of long-lasting peace is synonymous with total destruction of the enemy, surrender is not a word in their vocabulary, and they love torture so very much…"
"Are the machines why they attacked Anchorhead then?" his apprentice wondered.
"It's possible, I suppose. It wasn't like this last time I was here. Most of the tribes hated Czerka and their 'blasphemous' ways, but were pragmatic enough to simply pack up and move when it bothered them too much. They are nomads in the end. It's not worth risking the lives of their warriors if moving away is an option."
"So why then are they attacking Anchorhead?"
"I have no idea," he replied. "For whatever reason, this tribe seems hell bent on destroying Anchorhead, and there is little you can do against such reckless hate without bloodshed. At this rate, they might agree to a reduction in attacks if you gave them something they desperately needed, but I don't believe they would ever stop until Anchorhead is turned back into a desert."
"So I guess it's the people of Anchorhead versus the Sand People?" Bastila inquired. "I suppose the Duros only saw what he wanted to see: intelligence and none of the cruelty."
"Pretty much. If push comes to shove, I think I'd rather back the inhabitants of Anchorhead over the Sand People, since the former at least understand the concept of compromise. Still, we can try diplomacy first," Revan concluded. "Given that we have to go to them either way, we might as well say something. I don't expect it to work, but maybe they'll surprise us."
"Why do we even bother to ask?" Canderous wondered.
"Because we don't want to fight to the death if we can avoid it," the Sith Lord noted reasonably. "It's not like it would cost us anything. And besides, if there is a droid that speaks the Sand People language here, I want to see it. It would be an asset, whatever we choose to do."
The Mandalorian made no reply, but looked thoughtful. He couldn't help but wonder if giving no quarter was one of the reasons his people lost the war, when it forced their opponents to fight to the bitter end.
Soon, they found themselves in the shop of an Ithorian named Yuka Laka. The Sith Master asked him what he had available.
"You are lucky to have come at this time. I have one droid ready to go. I just took possession of it. An HK-47." The proprietor seemed rather eager to sell it. He continued, "It's a fine protocol translator. I think it's been modified. It claims to understand the Sand People dialect, and also has some armor mounts. Combat ready, perhaps?"
Revan looked speechless for a second. What are the odds of this happening? My long-lost droid… "Can you show it to me?" he asked. The shopkeeper pointed out the droid.
The Sith noticed the droid did look rather familiar. He greeted the droid.
"Greeting: Hello to you, prospective purchaser. I am referred to as HK-47, a fully functional Systech Corporation droid skilled in both combat and protocol functions," the droid said almost eagerly. "Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka? It would serve my purposes to be removed from his ownership."
Yes, this is my droid. But what was that about Systech Corporation? Revan knew the droid had nothing to do with Systech. Perhaps he was damaged… Systech better not have stolen my masterpiece, or there would be hell to pay. He called out to the Ithorian, "What do you know about this droid?"
"Let me just say that every function I've tested has performed perfectly," he answered. Silently, he muttered to himself, "Those that I could find, anyway."
"You don't seem to know much about it," the Sith observed. With aid of the Force, the silent muttering of the shopkeeper proved easily audible.
"The unit has been a little… uncooperative," the proprietor replied. Making up an excuse, he continued, "They get that way when they go too long without a memory wipe."
"And if the unit proves even more 'uncooperative' once we purchase it?" Bastila interjected, suspicious.
"You can leave it alone if you find its mannerisms amusing. It might be a little eccentric, but it's stable," Yuka Laka replied, waving away their concern.
"I am interested in this droid. Let's talk price," Revan stated, now fairly sure he could negotiate down the price quite aggressively.
"It's a good droid. I won't let it go for less than 5000 credits," the Ithorian stated.
"That's a bit excessive, don't you think? Surely you can go lower…" the secret Dark Lord of the Sith proposed.
"4000! Not a credit less!" the shopkeeper said immediately.
"Seems like someone is rather desperate to sell… I'll buy it if you lower the price a bit more…" the Sith trailed off.
"No, these are difficult times. The debt the droid covers is a big one," the Ithorian stated.
"A debt that won't be paid at all unless you manage to sell that droid," Revan countered. "Why, I don't think anyone would even pay 3000 credits for it, not when you can't even give me a list of its functions."
"Alright, last offer. 2500 credits!" Yuka Laka capitulated.
The Sith Lord handed over the credits, and in exchange, the shop owner kindly removed the restraining bolt on the droid. The moment the restraining bolt was removed, HK-47's docile looking eyes suddenly started glowing a malevolent red, its exact shade reminiscent of a red lightsaber blade, glaring at the Ithorian. The new owner would be rather disturbed if he had not in fact built the droid himself.
"Err… you've gotten a little hostile there, droid, haven't you?" the shopkeeper said uncertainly.
"Statement: I have always been hostile. Now that I no longer need to rely on you and your primitive maintenance skills, I do not need to hide it," the droid declared.
"How did you even come to have such a droid in stock?" Bastila asked, frowning at this exchange. She wasn't too worried—she trusted her Master to know what he was doing.
"Sorry, but I will not answer any questions. You bought the droid. Sold as is with no guarantee. Any problem it's having is yours alone," the proprietor stated.
HK-47 bristled at this. "Observation: I am not a problem, you useless organic meatbag! You and your lack of any organized mechanical skills are a problem!" Revan had to try very hard to not laugh at what the droid was saying. The droid seemed to be working just fine—having retained its sense of humour at the very least.
"Uhhhh yes, like that sort of problem," Yuka Laka noted. "Good luck with that worn-out droid."
"Objection: Worn out‽" the droid managed to sound completely incredulous and outraged. "Listen, you talentless organic meatbag... one word from my master and I will pull you apart limb from useless limb!" Turning to Revan, he continued, "Query: Can I kill him now, master? I would like ever so much to crush his neck. Just a little. It is a long-time fantasy of mine."
"Maybe later… we need to go," the Sith Lord stated to avoid any further escalations.
"Commentary: You hear that, meatbag? I will be back!" the droid told the shopkeeper.
While the Ithorian stared speechless, the Sith Lord removed the droid from the shop, taking him to some corner of Anchorhead. For him, tools were unnecessary, so he simply reached out with the Force to open the droid for repairs.
The droid seemed alarmed. "Query: What are you trying to do, meatb— I mean, master."
The Sith Lord laughed out this time. "I am Revan, your maker," he intoned. The droid froze for a few moments as it tried to identify the speaker.
"Query: What is the authorization code?" HK-47 asked threateningly, pointing a blaster at him. It was unclear where he got it from, but the Sith suspected it was borrowed from Yuka Laka… permanently.
"Bastila," he stated.
You used my name? his girlfriend asked in his mind, pleasantly surprised he had done so. It was proof of his devotion to her during all those years apart. Still, the more pragmatic part of her wondered, What if someone guessed it?
If you guessed it wrong, the droid would attack immediately, he answered. It would also do that if it doesn't think the speaker could be me, but acts as if the code is wrong, so I considered it a small risk.
HK-47 froze for a few moments, and something appeared to change inside the droid. Suddenly, he spoke, "Statement: Memory core restored. HK-47 is ready to serve you, Master." He continued eagerly, "Query: Which meatbags do you want terminated, Master?"
Bastila seemed shocked by this development. "You made this blood-thirsty droid?"
HK-47 answered before his maker could. "Objection: I only kill meatbags when ordered to by the Master. As much as I wish to kill you right now, meatbag, I can't. Therefore, it might be better said that I fulfill the Master's blood-thirst." The droid paused for a moment while the Sith apprentice was speechless, before turning to Revan and continuing, "Query: Do I have permission to terminate this female meatbag right now, Master?"
Not wanting to alarm her, he ordered the droid, "Do not threaten Bastila here. You will treat her as your second master. You will also not threaten Canderous the Mandalorian there."
"Resignation: I shall do as you ask, Master. Why you would want another meatbag to command me is beyond me, however."
"Why are you calling everything meatbags?" Bastila asked the droid.
"Correction: I only call organic beings meatbags. Explanation: You are a meatbag because you have all these squishy parts, meatb— mistress. And all that water too! How the constant sloshing does not drive you mad, I have no idea…"
"Can you stop calling people meatbags?" she asked, exasperated.
"Negatory: No, I am programmed to use the word 'meatbag' as much as possible."
Turning to her boyfriend, she asked, "Why did you do that?"
"Once upon a time, Malak asked HK-47 what he thought of him, and the droid informed him of his meatbag status." Revan started to laugh. "The look on his face was so worth it. After that, I changed his programming to use the word as much as possible. There's just something funny about a droid who looks at sentients with contempt as opposed to the adoration that people usually program into their droids…"
"That was actually a great reason," Bastila started laughing too. Turning to the droid, she continued, "I take it back, keep using the word 'meatbag.' As long as you address me properly, of course."
"Affirmation: Yes, mistress."
"Now, HK-47, can you do a full system check?" the Sith Lord asked.
"Report: Most systems functional, a lot of redundancy is lost. Mêlée weapons protocol damaged. Assassination protocol damaged. This is an outrage, Master! The meatbags that destroyed my assassination protocol will surely pay!" the droid almost screamed.
"Okay, now let me see how badly those incompetent meatbags damaged my masterpiece," demanded Revan. After an hour of repairs, he turned the droid back on.
"Statement: I feel so much better now, Master, with my systems fully functional. My assassination protocol is back!" the droid said excitedly.
Of course, all Revan really could do was restore the majority of HK-47's functionality, which was mainly possible due to the in-built redundancy. He could hardly have turned the droid back to its original state—he simply did not have the components for that. In fact, he had to take apart several redundant systems for parts to restore the others. This was far from ideal, but since most of the parts could only be manufactured on the Star Forge, they had to make do for now.
The droid continued angrily, "Exclamation: Those meatbags that messed me up will pay in a most painful manner!"
"Do you know what happened to them?" asked the owner.
"Answer: Upon reflection, all those meatbags already paid with their lives, except Yuka Laka. They always thought to use me to murder their rival meatbags and got themselves killed in the process. Query: Can we please terminate Yuka Laka now?"
"Maybe later," the Sith Lord replied to placate his droid.
"Resignation: As you wish, Master."
"Well, let's go and deal with the Sand People," suggested Revan.
"Commentary: More meatbags to slaughter? What are we waiting for?"
"While on our way there, why don't you tell us about your previous owners?" the Sith Master asked. HK-47 obliged, sharing the story of his time serving Bochaba the Hutt as his enforcer, of the corrupt senator using him to eliminate political opponents, and finally, that of the Systech Corporation executive that accidentally ordered him to destroy the entire corporation. Of course, HK-47 shared the fates of all his illegitimate owners in gruesome detail.
Hearing the story of the corrupt senator disturbed Bastila greatly. The sheer scale of the murders one senator had committed in his rise to power was beyond any level of corruption she had imagined. It was one thing to talk about the abstract idea of the Republic being "corrupt" and how its "democracy" did not actually exist, but it was a whole other thing to see the true scale of the depravity that existed in the heart of the Republic. The story really drove home the need to completely tear down the entire system and removed any trace of doubt or regret she had about Revan's course of action.
A/N: HK-47's lines from the game are simply too hilarious to not include. I feel a little bad for Yuka Laka getting threatened, but just a little. Once you buy the droid, he makes it clear that he thought he managed to swindle you by selling you a temperamental and worn-out droid, even if it's for the "bargain price" of 2500 credits. If only he knew what the droid was truly capable of…
I originally intended HK-47's secret authorization code to be 0x616C6974736142, but that seemed a bit too obscure. Let me know if you find that code meaningful.
As for HK-47's previous owners, I deliberately removed the part about being owned by some Mandalore, since the droid was supposed to be made after the end of the Mandalorian Wars, and with the clans scattered and leaderless, it didn't really make sense to have a Mandalore, especially one who was powerful enough to defeat HK-47 and subvert Revan's programming.
As for HK-47's functionality, I decided that his mêlée weapons protocol was damaged since his stats in the game would make no sense otherwise. HK-47 has fairly high strength stats, which only affects mêlée combat, while his other stats are less than impressive. Since he can't equip vibroblades or lightsabers, it makes him fairly useless in an actual fight. Similarly, the legendary assassination protocol couldn't be used in the game, which is rather disappointing. Fortunately, with Revan's memories fully restored, he can easily rectify this…
In the game, Bastila's father has a "holocron," but that always felt a bit weird to me since it's clearly not a Jedi or Sith holocron. However, the concept of datacrons do exist in Star Wars and they are occasionally referred to as "data holocrons," so I decided that Bastila's father had one of those. Helena might loosely refer to those as holocrons, but the Force users would refer to them more properly as datacrons.
Also if you have a problem with the way I am portraying the Jedi recruitment process, remember that during the prequel era the Jedi were legally empowered to steal babies from their parents for training, and a thousand years before that, Darth Zannah was originally recruited by the Jedi as a child soldier when she was nine years old to fight in the Battle of Ruusan in Darth Bane: Path of Destruction. If you are looking for evidence of the Jedi willing to forsake all their principles for their goals in the game, look no further than the Dantooine storyline: if you choose to go full Dark Side, it becomes clear that the Jedi Council knew exactly what you did but let you get away with it in hopes of finding the Star Forge.
