Sand Pit Part 2
It took some time, but after asking around Steven was directed to a droid shop. More than one person he’d talked to had warned him of bad deals and broken droids, but it was the only droid shop in Anchorhead. Entering the dingy little building, he was met by an Ithorian. He wasn’t the best at reading the species’ facial expressions, but the alien’s Force signature was giving off an unpleasant level of eagerness and deception. Stars, they hadn’t even started talking and he already wanted this interaction to be over.
“[What is this? A customer I don't recognize? Perhaps you bring off-world money to Yuka Laka?]”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” He had some credits, but not an exorbitant amount. “I’m looking for a translator droid. One that speaks the Sand People dialect.”
“[You are in luck, off-worlder!]” The shop owner chirped, his emotions spiking with hope. “[I have a fine HK-47 unit available. It’s a protocol translator that claims to understand the Sand People.]” He gestured to a corner of the shop where a battered looking, humanoid droid stood. It was hard to tell if it had been painted an unfortunate color or if it was covered in rust.
To Steven’s surprise, he felt Jake’s interest flare. He was excited, but why?
I’ve… read about those. They’re good units. Jake sensed his interest. He was really going to have to tell the man that Steven could feel it when he lied with their bond open. This was just insulting.
Nodding to the shop owner, he walked over. The droid’s head swung towards him and it spoke in a clipped, slightly harsh voice.
“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 head tilted to one side. “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.”
Something about the droid was… unsettling. He couldn’t put his finger on what. “Serve your purposes? That’s an odd way to put it.”
“Explanation: The Ithorian is not a gifted mechanic. I fear he will damage me with further meddling.”
Considering the customer reviews Steven had already heard, that was an understandable concern. “You mentioned battle and protocol? Outline your functions, please.”
“Refusal: It is not desirable for me to reveal core functions while still in the possession of Yuka Laka, prospective purchaser. It is sufficient to say that I am a fully capable translator and cultural analyst, and I am also proficient in... personal combat.”
He was startled by the flat refusal and a little concerned about the way the droid said ‘personal combat.’ It wasn’t the unit’s fault, he knew, but whoever had installed its vocal pack had really chosen an odd one for a protocol droid. It sounded… threatening.
“What does that mean? What does being in his possession have to do with it?” He asked a little suspiciously.
“Explanation: The fool Ithorian might raise his asking price if he knew more of my functions. Or he could make inquiries into my history. Neither outcome is beneficial to me.” It was unusual for a droid to be so rude about its mechanic.
“Your… history? What’s wrong with knowing your history?”
“Disclosure: Currently, access to much of my memory core is restricted. I do not have knowledge of my own history and would prefer if the fool Ithorian to not possess more knowledge of me than I myself do.”
“Does Yuka Laka know you call him that?”
“Statement: I wish only to be purchased and away from ill-treatment at the hands of this poorly-skilled mechanic. I have no desire to be subtle.” The droid paused again, considering. “Qualification: Err… of course I shall be quite pleasant to you, should you purchase me. Please?”
You should at least ask how much. Jake sounded beyond amused and, for all he believed the other was invested in protecting him, that still made Steven even more suspicious. HK-47 probably does speak the language and an extra blaster might come in handy if we’re going on adventures.
“I’m not sure…” He accidentally said it out loud and the droid was quick to respond.
“Assurance: I will grant loyal service in exchange for proper maintenance. As well, it is rare that I am able to utilize my full array of abilities. You seem likely to give me the opportunity to do so.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Extrapolation: You are no farmer or diplomat. You are armed, and comfortable as such. Your kind also encounters danger on a far more frequent basis than the average citizen. We will mesh well.”
He isn't wrong about the danger part. Jake said. I could even take over for bargaining, if you want to make sure we don’t spend too much.
“I’ll see about purchasing you.”
“Statement: The fool Ithorian has decided I am to be an expensive purchase. He does this out of greed and not out of knowledge of my true capabilities. Advisement: I have observed him. He is a coward, and will be responsive to… aggressive bargaining.”
Jake, he just straight up told us to threaten a civilian. Are you sure this is a good idea?
Definitely. He’ll be able to translate for you and offer protection. Maybe you can get the kid’s brother back without violence. That’s what you wanted, right?
You don’t think it’ll work. You’re just saying that because you want the droid.
Maybe.
Shaking his head, Steven returned to Yuka Laka. “How much for the HK-47 unit?”
“[It's a very solid machine, in good shape. I can't let it go for less than 5000 credits.]”
Steven crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “No way, mate.” He could be gullible sometimes, but he’d been droid shopping before and it was the same everywhere.
“[4000! Not a credit less!]”
“That was quick. Desperate to sell?” Almost as desperate as the droid was to get a new owner.
“[Ah, no, not really, but the first figure really was a little high. You never know, the occasional person bites right away.]” At least the Ithorian had the decency to sound sheepish. After a few more minutes of back and forth, Steven managed to get it down to a reasonable price. He paid for the unit and waited while Yuka Laka removed the shop restraining bolt. Jake’s presence was happy in his head and he sent a question down their bond. Before he could press for an answer, the droid stalked up to him.
“HK-47 is ready to serve, Master.” Steven couldn’t tell if the sense of dejavu at the words came from himself or Jake and that was… disturbing. He didn’t think he’d ever owned anything more complicated than a records manager droid.
“Let’s take you back to the ship and check you over. My friend’s brother has been captured by the Sand People and we’re hoping to get him back. You do speak their language, right?” Steven led the way out of the shop and towards the space port. He’d have to bite the blaster bolt about the gizka sooner rather than later, it seemed.
“Assurance: of course, Master. And if negotiations are unsuccessful, I shall be just as useful engaging in… other ways to cease hostilities between you and your enemies.”
“How is your memory core? Can you give a detailed outline of your functions now?”
“Statement: I know some elements of my functionality, master, but not all.”
“How can you not know parts of your functionality?” He asked suspiciously.
“Answer: There have been numerous repairs and tampering made to my system, master. Several systems are not operating as they should be. The fact that my memory is incomplete may be due to meatbag incompetence… or something else I am unaware of.” Inconvenient.
“Whatever. What can you tell me?”
“Disclosure: I can handle various sorts of heavy weaponry with ease. My physical abilities are well-above those of your average meatbag, as are my sensor functions… an assassin if you would.”
“An assassin?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but it still came out as a yelp. What did you get me into?You wanted a translator. This is one.
“Caution: Shhhh, Master! Such a function in a droid is highly illegal.” HK-47 was quick to say, head swelling from left to right rapidly.
Highly illegal. And now I own him. Which makes me liable for breaking droid regulation laws, even though I bought him secondhand. Fantastic. Steven thought, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands.
“I won’t say it again.” His tone was resigned. He really did not want Layla, a member of the Republic military, or Konshu, a fully trained Jedi, to know about his new droid’s past. And if Layla hadn’t been right about him keeping secrets before, she would be now. This was just not his day.
“Commentary: Good, for I would truly hate to be turned into spare scrap, master. That would be a waste of my genius engineering. My assassination functions are currently non-functional, unfortunately.”
Makes him less useful, but he’ll still be good for protection. Jake actually sounded disappointed. We will never need assassination protocol, so he’s no less useful without it working. Steven snapped.
“Have those functions… been used a lot?” He didn’t think he wanted to know the answer. He for sure knew that he would not be getting a refund for this piece of dangerous, illegal machinery.
“Answer: I have no way of knowing that, Master. My memory has been deleted, remember?” HK-47 sounded somewhere pedantic and smug. He’d have to do some research and send the company that produced this voice pack a strongly worded review.
“You don’t need to call me ‘master’ you know.” He said with a sigh.
“Query: Don't I? I was under the assumption that organic meatbags such as yourself enjoyed such forms of address.”
That made Steven pause. HK-47 had used the term ‘organic meatbag’ before. His voice practically dripped with disgust everytime he said it. “Organic meatbag? Really?”
“Retraction: Did I say that out loud? I apologize, master. While you are a meatbag I suppose I should not call you such.” At that, Jake’s sense of mirth overwhelmed the part of Steven’s brain he inhabited, causing a snort of laughter to escape, despite the fact Steven had been trying to look offended.
“You called me a meatbag again.”
“Explanation: It's just that… you have all these squishy parts, master. And all that water! How the constant sloshing doesn't drive you mad, I have no idea…”
Me neither, come to think of it.I’m beginning to think I *am* mad. There was a flicker of… something from Jake. Discomfort?. Had Steven managed to hurt his feelings? Because I let you talk me into buying this thing. Not because I hear you. He was quick to reassure, though not sure why it mattered to him. I give excellent purchase advice. He felt better at least.
“Humans mostly don’t hear the… squishy nature of our existence. Name calling aside, quit it with the ‘master’ bit, please.” He said out loud.
“Explanation: Someone has hard-coded it into my system that my current master always be addressed as such.” That wasn’t too unusual, but it was always worth a shot to ask a droid if it could stop.
***
Layla was surprised that Steven had made it back to the ship before her. He was in the cargo hold, working on a bipedal droid, cleaning sand out of its finger joints and arguing with it about the pros and cons sentients relying on droids rather than learning multiple non-Basic languages.
“Stars, you actually bought one.” She said. Man and droid looked at her. Steven looked a little guilty. “What all does it do?” She knew it would be a translator, but it looked more complex than that.
The droid answered before Steven could. “Disclosure: I am a versatile protocol and combat droid, fluent in verbal and cultural translation. Should your needs prove more… practical, I am also skilled in highly personal combat.”
“This is HK-47.” He picked up where the droid left off. “Canderous says he’s got a spare blaster rifle. If you think we need another armed companion.”
“That’s good. In case we can’t actually negotiate with a translator.” She leaned on the wall to watch as he got back to work. “What makes you different from an armored battle droid? Is it just the language capabilities?”
HK-47 tilted his head. When he replied, his voice sounded a touch insulted. “Disclosure: Finesse. Battle droids hold battlefields. I am capable of eliminating a very… specific type of target.”
“That’s-” It sounded like an assassin, but what would an assassin droid be doing in some Tatooine junk shop?
“Whoever owned him before, he doesn’t remember who they were, of course, seems to have been more violently inclined than the average person.” Steven said tiredly. “We’ve gone back and forth a bit and he does speak the Sand People’s language as far as I can tell. Compared the sounds he made to some recordings the miners had from sand crawler attacks. Everything else is secondary.” He couldn’t be projecting ‘let’s not talk about this’ harder if he tried.
“Well okay then. Where is everyone.”
“Mission and Zaalbar are trying to chase the gizka off the ship, Canderous is checking his weapons and Konshu is meditating with Juhani.” Steven told her, his focus back on the droid’s knee joint. As if summoned by his words, a gizka hopped into the cargo hold, croaking blandly as it looked up at Layla. After a few moments of staring, she knelt and gave it a pet. It gurgled happily.
“Quirry: Shall I kill it for you, Master?” HK-47 spoke up hopefully, making Layla wince.
“No, maybe the others can throw them off the ship. They’re actually kinda cute. Pest control was not what I bought you for anyways.” Steven didn’t even look up as he denied HK-47 the opportunity to kill a life form. He’d been getting used to the way the droid talked while performing basic maintenance and was morbidly curious about the one who’d programmed its personality core.
“I’ll see who’s coming with us…” Layla started but now Steven looked up, setting down the air hose and giving her a worried look.
“Maybe Mission should stay at the ship. Just in case we find… Griff dead.” He said it slowly, not seeming to want to voice such a possibility out loud.
“... I’ll see if I can convince her.” Layla agreed that the Twi’lek girl had experienced more than her fair share of trauma. She didn’t need to find her brother’s corpse, if they could avoid it.
***
In the end, Canderous, Layla, Steven and Juhani ventured passed Anchorhead’s fortifications in the company of their new droid. Right at the gate, a small, brown-robed sentient approached them, waving to get their attention. When they spoke, the words were… garbled.
“[You there, of your kind, can you help Iziz of Jawa? There are troubles from the ghosts among the sands.]”
There was a pause as the other three looked at Steven. “Uh… I got the name and that he’s maybe asking for help?” He glanced from the Jawa to HK-47. “Could you be clearer, pelase?” He asked politely.
“Statement: It is doubtful he can be clearer. Their language is difficult even for droids. He is using a trade language to try and help.” The droid answered before the Jawa.
Iziz nodded. “[The trouble is yours, not of Jawa. We must use a language of trade because you listen complicated to what we say simply.]”
“If you say so.” He went for a diplomatic response. It was entirely possible that Jawas used other senses than hearing to reinforce their language. “Why do you need help?”
“Weren’t we going to go get the kid’s brother?” Canderous drawled, looking bored. Juhani shot him a venomous glare.
“Jedi help those who are in need of it.” She told him. Layla shushed them both before an argument about the weaknesses associated with compassion could start up.
“[There are troubles that we have. The giants made of sand, they are horned ghosts that take us away.]” The Jawa ‘explained,’ waving his arms to emphasize the size of the ‘giants made of sand.’
“HK-47? Are you getting more of this than me?” He was embarrassed that he had to ask. He understood that someone was kidnapping Jawas, but not who.
“Translation: 98% probability that members of the miniature organic's tribe are being held by Sand People, master. Doubtless he wishes assistance.”
Stars, the Sand People certainly were busy.
“What’s the other 2%?” Layla asked their droid curiously.
“Translation: 2% probability that the miniature organic is simply looking for trouble and needs to be blasted. That may be wishful thinking on my part, master.” The tone was certainly wistful.
I blame you for this, Jake. He thought.
It’s not like he’ll do anything without asking. Maybe it’s just an… what’s the word… affectation? Steven resisted the urge to shake his head.
“We’re already going to try and free one of their prisoners. Is that what you’re asking for too?”
A nod. “[I ask that you find us, and then bring away from the People of Sand. Then we will offer a trade with you.]”
“Since we’re already going that way, I don’t see why we couldn’t just look…” Steven glanced at the others for confirmation. Mostly at Layla. Juhani would be happy to save captives and he didn’t care about Canderous’ opinion. She nodded.
“If we can find and free your people, we will. We don’t need any trading, but maybe information… Do you know about something called a Star Map?” It was a good bet; the indiginous inhabitants would be more likely to know about any ancient ruins like those on Dantooine than the mining company.
Iziz perked up in seeming recognition. “[These are things I know! Yes! From those that came before, the guide to lights far and away. I can tell you! Please, first help the tribe of Iziz among the People of the Sand, and we will trade what we each need.]”
“So he just happens to have the information we want? Awfully convenient.”
“Warning: More likely the deceiving little organic hopes to trick you into going there so you release his people while searching, Master.”
“Shut it. He doesn’t feel like he’s lying.” Steven frowned at the droid and Canderous, who had expressed disbelief. Juhani backed him up.
“There was no deception in the Force. There is no harm in freeing the captive Jawas, even if their leader did not have something we needed. At the very least, it is both Steven and my duty to do so.” She said it with such certainty and Steven would be lying if he said that her easy inclusion of him in the Jedi ideals didn’t make his face a little warm.
I can’t believe they sent an idealist along. Jake said, a grin in his voice. One optimist is bad enough and I actually like *you.*
I guess she’s leaning into the Light, after her ordeal. She was young enough that it didn’t come across as self righteous, just a little naive. It was a nice dream that the Jedi would go around just helping people… In a perfect galaxy, maybe. Which this was certainly not.
“We will be back if we find the members of your tribe alive.” He told Iziz. The Jawa nodded and scurried off into the throng of miners and shoppers milling around the exit to Anchorhead.
“At least Konshu won’t be able to whine about us being ‘off mission’ now.” Layla said with a real smile. “If you two are right about no lies, this really is convenient.” Convenient, but not easy.