Shadows of Korriban
Title: Shadows of Korriban
Rating: G
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Spoilers: Up to the end of the Leviathan
Summary: HK-47 stands guard over the crew of the Ebon Hawk, and particularly his master.
Author's Notes: This started off as a writing sample for beyondtherift, but it grew far past that. Sorry mods! Better too much than too little, I hope.
HK-47 stands silently in the cargo hold of the Ebon Hawk, ceaselessly scanning the ship for danger. The soft breathing noises of the organics onboard flood his audio receptors, and he can pinpoint each of their locations by the odd squishy thudding of their heartbeats. The little astromech droid is in standby in the engine room, its processors whirring quietly as it runs a deep systems scan. No one is at the helm, but as they are currently docked on Korriban, there is little need for anyone to tend to the hyperdrive or navigation.
He feels a distinct sense of pride in the fact that Master's crew feel secure enough in his abilities to sleep so soundly, even on a planet full of Sith. Nothing will get past him in the night.
One of the heartbeats speeds up, and HK-47 turns his main focus on the owner of the rhythmic beat. It goes on for several minutes, accompanied by harsh breathing, until there is a small gasp that he has learned means a sudden awakening. Sleep is such an inefficient process. Organic programming is so flawed and full of glitches.
The dark is no hindrance to his photoreceptors, and he watches the Master emerge from the crew quarters, padding barefoot across the deck plates into the center of the ship. He waits a moment before joining her, allowing his footsteps to clank loudly enough to alert her to his presence. "Query: Are you malfunctioning, Master?" he asks, standing next to the bench seat.
Master smiles, although he does not detect humor in it. "Just more nightmares - flashbacks - visions. Whatever they are."
HK-47 is silent. He does not understand dreams nor visions, as he has never experienced either, but he does understand that such events can be distressing to organic meatbags. After several moments of processing the data, he speaks again. "Speculation: Your memories of being Darth Revan are slowly returning to you. Perhaps your organic brain is attempting to reveal your past during your nightly regeneration cycle. Suggestion: It may be prudent to resume your nocturnal inactivity in order to recover your true self."
Master makes a noise that he recognizes as frustration. "I'm not sure I want to remember. I did... terrible things. I don't know if I want to be that me again. But... I think I have to know, if we're going to defeat Malak and save Bastila."
HK-47 hates to see the Master so conflicted, but he is an assassin droid, not a psychologist. His strengths lie in destruction and chaos, not reconstruction and order. And he doesn't need to remind her that he also knows what it's like to lose a part of yourself. She knows all too well.
"Request: Sleep, Master," he says instead. "Your loyal droid is on guard tonight."
Master smiles in a manner he knows as 'cheeky'. "T3? Where?"
HK-47 squawks in indignation, but he does not mean it. Somehow, Master is happy again. He is baffled by how and why, but at least Master won't be neglecting her nightly shut-down. And as promised, he stands guard by her side all night, not moving until the rest of the crew begin to stir.
Rating: G
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Spoilers: Up to the end of the Leviathan
Summary: HK-47 stands guard over the crew of the Ebon Hawk, and particularly his master.
Author's Notes: This started off as a writing sample for beyondtherift, but it grew far past that. Sorry mods! Better too much than too little, I hope.
HK-47 stands silently in the cargo hold of the Ebon Hawk, ceaselessly scanning the ship for danger. The soft breathing noises of the organics onboard flood his audio receptors, and he can pinpoint each of their locations by the odd squishy thudding of their heartbeats. The little astromech droid is in standby in the engine room, its processors whirring quietly as it runs a deep systems scan. No one is at the helm, but as they are currently docked on Korriban, there is little need for anyone to tend to the hyperdrive or navigation.
He feels a distinct sense of pride in the fact that Master's crew feel secure enough in his abilities to sleep so soundly, even on a planet full of Sith. Nothing will get past him in the night.
One of the heartbeats speeds up, and HK-47 turns his main focus on the owner of the rhythmic beat. It goes on for several minutes, accompanied by harsh breathing, until there is a small gasp that he has learned means a sudden awakening. Sleep is such an inefficient process. Organic programming is so flawed and full of glitches.
The dark is no hindrance to his photoreceptors, and he watches the Master emerge from the crew quarters, padding barefoot across the deck plates into the center of the ship. He waits a moment before joining her, allowing his footsteps to clank loudly enough to alert her to his presence. "Query: Are you malfunctioning, Master?" he asks, standing next to the bench seat.
Master smiles, although he does not detect humor in it. "Just more nightmares - flashbacks - visions. Whatever they are."
HK-47 is silent. He does not understand dreams nor visions, as he has never experienced either, but he does understand that such events can be distressing to organic meatbags. After several moments of processing the data, he speaks again. "Speculation: Your memories of being Darth Revan are slowly returning to you. Perhaps your organic brain is attempting to reveal your past during your nightly regeneration cycle. Suggestion: It may be prudent to resume your nocturnal inactivity in order to recover your true self."
Master makes a noise that he recognizes as frustration. "I'm not sure I want to remember. I did... terrible things. I don't know if I want to be that me again. But... I think I have to know, if we're going to defeat Malak and save Bastila."
HK-47 hates to see the Master so conflicted, but he is an assassin droid, not a psychologist. His strengths lie in destruction and chaos, not reconstruction and order. And he doesn't need to remind her that he also knows what it's like to lose a part of yourself. She knows all too well.
"Request: Sleep, Master," he says instead. "Your loyal droid is on guard tonight."
Master smiles in a manner he knows as 'cheeky'. "T3? Where?"
HK-47 squawks in indignation, but he does not mean it. Somehow, Master is happy again. He is baffled by how and why, but at least Master won't be neglecting her nightly shut-down. And as promised, he stands guard by her side all night, not moving until the rest of the crew begin to stir.