The door hissed shut behind us, muting the sounds of the lower levels after we returned to our cabins. Next to , Vila stretched her arms with a satisfied groan, audibly and visibly happy from the exercise she got in with the Mandalorians.
“Want to co in? You could wash my back.” She asked, making almost trip, but I shook my head, answering calmly.
"Not now. Let's keep our heads in the mont until we are finished here."
"I am doing that! But... oh well. So not now, hm? Soooo... does that an when we are done here, you will co in? The shower on the ship is small... but I like the idea. We would need to... snuggle. Good thinking, Kael!"
Looking at her, she winked, then disappeared inside the bathroom before I could muster a coback. Of course, she hadn't closed the doors fully... and just a mont later, I heard the rattle of water and the sound of her humming filter through the partition... Damn it. Vixen... All of them are like that?
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, then turned toward the small galley corner of our suite. The racks of sealed containers looked more promising than I’d expected when we arrived, as I was pretty hungry by now. Mandalorians apparently ate like soldiers, no matter where they were, as what I found there were dense, practical als ready to be heated and 'assembled' on the spot. Wonderful... Still, I had to admit, the selection wasn’t that bad. There were mostly dried at, so compressed grain packs, preserved vegetables, and even a tin of sothing that slled suspiciously like spiced nerf. Not exactly gourt, but edible, and we had the appliances to make sothing out of it.
I set a pot on the emitter and busied myself with boiling water and chopping the vegetables with a utility knife. It didn't take long for the aroma of sothing warm to begin drifting up, mixing with the recycled air and a hint of oil. Which ant that I wasn't 'alone' anymore.
Of course, I heard it before I slled it, as behind , the hum of servos shifted into gear as HK ca up to . I an, close to , because he stood by the window, his silhouette dark against the glow of dawn beginning to rise above the horizon, bringing a new morning to the capital city. Looking where he was gazing, the streets were still glittering with lights, the early, erging lines of traffic, but soon, the sunrise would chase away the darkness completely.
What surprised , for once, was that HK wasn’t pacing or muttering kill protocols. He was the calst I had ever seen him, standing still, his photoreceptors dimd to a much softer amber glow, his arms crossed behind his back. Occasionally, his head twitched, the faint click of gears marking so internal diagnostic cycle being completed before starting a new one.
“You seem calr,” I said after a while, stirring the pot and striking up a conversation because he didn't seem to be interested in starting it.
[Flat Confirmation: Diagnostics seventy percent complete. My subroutines have been stabilized. Emotional leakage… minimized.]
"Huh?" I arched an eyebrow, “Emotional leakage? You’re a droid, HK. You’re not supposed to have those.”
[Defensive Statent: Incorrect. I am a Hunter-Killer platform. My emotional subroutines are deliberately exaggerated for intimidation or persuasion values. If atbags hear cheerful laughter while I dismber them, they panic faster. I can also infiltrate and predict organic reactions more quickly and precisely. It is an efficient subroutine.]
“Cheerful. Right... Everything to be a better killer,” I ladled the broth, watching steam curl upward, shaking my head, “Still, the way you nearly collapsed in the museum didn’t look like intimidation. Or persuasion. Or as an advantage... Am I wrong? It was more like a malfunction. A big one.”
[...] His optics flared a fraction brighter, his head slightly turning, putting into his peripheral vision. [Statent: I did not malfunction. I… recalibrated.]
“Mm. Sure,” I leaned against the counter, mug of steaming broth in hand. “You ever think about letting soone take a proper look at your core? I an soone who can help... A droid specialist. Soone who knows what they’re doing. They might help stabilize you. That was not a simple malfunction that can be fixed by dragging folders from one mory core to the other.”
The reaction was imdiate, of course. HK’s head snapped toward fully, servos grinding, and his eyes were glowing as bright as the rising sun behind him.
[Hostile Refusal: Negative. No atbag hands will rummage through my core. Tampering equals corruption, downgrades, and reprogramming. Or, worse… deletion. Confirmation: I will die before letting a atbag dig into my system.]
"You say that now," I sipped my broth, unbothered by his sharp tone, “Not everyone wants to erase you. So of us want to keep you functioning. Is it that hard to believe that?”
[Cold Statent: If I fail, I fail as myself. Not as soone’s experint.]
"You never had friends? People you can trust?"
[...]
Well... the silence is as good as a maybe. And maybe, he just didn't recall it...
“Fine!" I gave up, "No chanics, for now.” I set my mug down and turned to face him fully. “But then humor for a minute here. Tell what you do rember. The things you’re sure of... okay? We are bound to travel together for many years to co, so I at least need to know what is happening with you. What’s clear right now?”
HK tilted his head, the processors in his head humming, and for a mont, I thought he’d shut down the conversation entirely. Then his voice ca, slower than usual, almost as if he was being extra careful about what to share or what to recall without overwhelming his internals.
[Observation: I have confird evidence that I fought Mandalorians. I recall dismbering them with enthusiasm, be it an axe, blade, or blaster; it makes little difference. Their screams are archived in my core.]
“Lovely,” I muttered, wanting to skip the murder part.
[Addendum: I also rember cooperating with them. Standing beside them in battle... Sharing respect… As atbags, they were good sport about it… Although with very irritating drinking songs. Correction: Extrely irritating drinking songs. But they had respect nonetheless.]
"Huh," I blinked my eyes, “So you were both their enemy and their ally.”
[Confirmation: Yes. Confusion: The sequencing of the mories is corrupted. Did I hunt them after they failed? Or fight them before we allied? Both feel true, yet I am unable to decide which ca first. The order of events remains unresolved.] HK’s head twitched again, his optics dimming, then flaring back to full power, [Unpleasant Admission: Perhaps I did both, but it doesn't matter. Perhaps I was lying to get into their ranks to find my mark. I am missing the context for most of the mory fragnts in my databanks. The dates and sorting are corrupted in such a way that it is impossible to reorganize them.]
“History’s rarely neat anyway,” I said finally, “Maybe you did both. Enemy one century, ally the next. It wouldn't be the first ti sothing like that happened, and certainly not the last either. Given how long you’ve been around, I’m not surprised.”
[Grudging Agreent: Efficiency is tiless. I was efficient in both roles if that is the case.]
"Yeah, yeah," I chuckled softly. “That’s one way to look at it. But you also must consider the fact, HK, that you are broken.”
[Sarcastic Retort: atbags break more easily.]
"I an it, HK. Don't sidestep it! You are trying to make sense of sothing broken with malfunctioning tools. Of course, you can't put it back together! It will co back, it will cause problems later on, and it will be hindering you more and more..."
[...] I wasn't sure if I was getting to him, but I hoped so. He was, in a human sense, injured, and he needed help. Even if he hated the fact or didn't want to admit it... But he didn't turn around... yet.
"If you don't want to cause your own downfall and watch as your systems fail, one by one, until you beco nothing more than a glorified history unit, spewing recorded fragnts from your leaking database, you need soone to look at you. Like it or not, my friend, you are... fucked."
[...]
"But it's your choice." I shrugged, "I am not going to force you."
Behind the half-open door, the water was finally shut off. Then, the buzz of the recycler kicked in, and monts later, I heard Vila humming again, her voice echoing louder this ti through the chamber as she was ready to reappear. At the sa ti, HK turned his head toward the sound, photoreceptors flickering.
[Statent: Female atbag is noisy. Observation: She will consu half the water supply if not restrained.]
“She’s fine,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Let her enjoy it. She earned it.”
[Flat Retort: Indulgence breeds weakness.]
“Or it keeps you sane.” I countered, "She forced one of our oppositions for us to be here to see us in a new light. She can use as much of the water as she wants."
HK didn’t answer this ti around, and he just turned back to the window, resuming his silent diagnostics as if the conversation between us had never happened. By then, the refresher's door fully hissed open, and Vila reerged, wrapped in just a towel that hung almost to her ankles, damp lekku trailing down her back as she sniffed the air and her eyes lit up.
“Is that breakfast?” she asked eagerly, padding barefoot toward the galley, “Finally! I could eat a whole bantha in one go!”
“Happy to hear that, and well, sort of, it is a breakfast.” I handed her a steaming bowl, “Don’t get your hopes too high, though. It’s military rations with… so seasoning.”
"Co on," She took the bowl, inhaled deeply above it, and smiled at , “Mmm. Slls better than anything I had as a kid. If I had anything to eat at all. Plus, it slls better than the cantina food in the Academy sooooo... You’re hired as my personal chef.”
“Great. Another job title? If you continue like this, my title as Jedi will be pushed down on the importance ladder.”
She just giggled, tiptoeing and giving a kiss before she plopped down on one of the stone couches and dug in with obvious delight. Her contented hum filled the chamber, blending with the quiet thrum of the tower itself, and I just watched her, feeling... satisfied. I leaned against the counter again, continued to sip my own broth, and let my gaze wander back to HK from Vila. Once again, he stood motionless, staring out at the rising sun, photoreceptors glimring faintly.
For all his nace and bravado, he looked… almost tired... Lost.
I wondered how many ghosts rattled inside that corroded fra of his... How many centuries of blood and betrayal pressed against his mory core to be this muddled and shattered? And how long he could keep holding them back before sothing finally gave way...
I couldn't put myself in his shoes, to be honest... But I wanted to help him. I don't know if he ever had friends or not, or if he had sothing that he might consider a friend... Maybe he did. Perhaps he is like this because, as a droid, ti affects him differently than it does us... He outlived probably everyone he knew.... Maybe it was hard to co to terms with... I am not sure.
But I knew that I wanted to help him.
Reviews
All reviews (0)