Unlike me, Vila had a bit harder time occupying herself while we were traveling the hyperspace lane. Luckily, to prevent her from crashing out and becoming way too grumpy, I had her accompany me in my current task—a very particular, very... well, vocal, and somewhat problematic project.
It was about HK's newly acquired body. When I say newly acquired, I mean that I was freshly put together from a salvaged pile of droid parts I bought from the small stops we made to build up our background. Master Katarn was experienced well enough, explaining that we had to make small stops and detours, so if anyone began looking up our logs, trying to trace where are we coming from, there would be covers upon covers, showing we were indeed traveling freelancers. It gave me the perfect chance to get some salvage wherever we stopped and start building a body for HK.
At the moment, it stood stiffly in the dimly lit workshop, and if a droid could radiate pure indignation, this one absolutely did. The chassis was a standard C3-series protocol droid frame—thin limbs, an elegant, albeit flimsy structure, and a glossy bronze finish. After I polished it for two days, that is... Anyway, it also ended up showing the previous damage, as it was already scratched in places where I had hastily patched together the connections under its plating. All in all, it was acceptable and would sell the fact that our group had been working for a long time. It certainly did not look new.
When I was done, it was time to put the head on, giving it a distinct look, especially with those glowing red photoreceptors flickering as if in perpetual outrage.
"Hm..." I took a step back, wiping a smudge of grease from my hands onto my work trousers. "There. Fully operational. You should be thankful, HK—most droids don't get a second chance."
[Statement: Most droids are not forced to endure the indignity of such a grotesque downgrade. Please, just scrap me already.]
"Hah!" Vila snorted from her seat on a nearby crate. "You look fantastic. Very sophisticated. Stop bitching."
[Retort: I feel as though I have been skinned alive and shoved into a decorative display model meant to entertain and serve meatbags of low intelligence. And of sub-par origin.]
"Charming." I rolled my eyes while I crossed my arms. "That's the point. We're undercover, HK. No assassin cosplay. No playing being the war machine. No massacre fantasies." I gestured to the gleaming bronze limbs. "You're a protocol droid now."
[Defensive Protest: Correction, Master. I am an assassin droid forced into the role of a protocol droid due to your poor decision-making and meager technical expertise. Hopeful Coersion: I would serve the mission way better with a proper battle droid frame. There has to be some still floating around the Galaxy.]
"No way I am giving you proper combat capabilities." I smirked at him, "Even with the modifications I made to your behavioral core, so you have no choice but to obey me, I do believe you will find a way to corrupt the program and break free. I am not stupid, HK."
[Resigned Statement: I despise this existence already.]
"That wasn't a no, huh?" Vila snorted before she nearly doubled over laughing. "Oh, I am loving this... Does he have to, you know, act like a proper protocol droid? If you order him to?"
"Um." I nodded. "For now, I think he absolutely does. From now on, your designation is HK-O1, and by these deeds, you, the protocol droid, are assigned to me, Kael Varo." I said, holding up a datapad, "Your primary function is to assist in matters of etiquette, translation, and diplomacy. Oh, and you will refer to me as 'Master' in public. No 'meatbag' comments."
I watched as the HK droid's optics dimmed as if contemplating every life choice that had brought him to this moment... or how to kill me in the future. Maybe both.
[Statement: I now understand the concept of actual suffering.]
"Drama queen." Vila snorted, pushing herself off the crate, walking circles around the droid that was now taller than she was, "It is only you who are responsible for ending up like this. If you wanted to escape, you shouldn't have called Kael a meatbag. Serves you right."
...
....
...
After a few days of further travel, under which I was giving HK partial free reign to walk around the ship and get used to his new body, we finally docked at our first, actual target: Kethari Station. Our arrival at the drifting asteroid, part of a massive ring around a giant blue star, was uneventful, which was precisely how I liked it.
Sitting in the co-pilot seat, I watched as it got closer to us while we were given permission to land on one of the outer platforms but within the shielding, keeping a breathable atmosphere on the barren rock base. The station itself was a sprawling hodgepodge of Outer Rim architecture. Part of it was a functional trade hub, part shadow port, and I guess the deeper one went, it became entirely the kind of place where people vanished if they weren't careful. As we flew towards our mark, I watched the web of docking platforms, the rusted corridors that connected them, and the flickering signs advertising everything from weapon repairs to questionably legal, medical procedures as we touched down.
After we landed, we had to wait a little while for the shielding to seal behind us and fill the partial vacuum around our landing pad with air before we were permitted to dismount. As soon as our ship's ramp lowered and we walked down, we were swarmed by junk-looking droids, rushing forward, beeping, and offering their services to maintain our vessel. I knew that because, to my surprise, HK did translate their beeps, making Ben tell R2 to lock down everything on the ship. Safety first...
"It's been time I was at a place like this," Vila muttered, who, now, had opted for a hooded vest over a tunic that let her lekku drape freely.
"I guess you were dragged around stations like this, huh?" I asked while I wore a simple spacer's jacket and utility belt around my waist, hiding my lightsaber in one of the little compartments.
"Always stay cautious," my Master said, while both he and Kyle were dressed similarly, as plain travelers. "We are here to look around and not to draw attention to ourselves."
"So keep your temper in check." Master Katarn said, patting Vila's shoulders, prompting her to nod back at him.
Smiling, I looked at HK-O1, shuffling behind us in his protocol droid form, looking like every other servile machine on the station.
[Displeased Observation: The air quality of this station is suboptimal. I detect traces of unprocessed fuel vapor and various biological contaminants. It would be best if I remained on the ship.]
"Welcome to the Outer Rim," Vila muttered. "Enjoy your stay, and stop trying to weasel out of your responsibilities, rust bucket!"
"Listen up," Ben turned to us, ignoring HK's protest. "Kethari Station was the last place Vestara was reportedly seen. We don't know if she's still here... It is highly unlikely because it was already months ago... but if there's any trace of her, this is where we'll find it."
"We already discussed the probabilities," Master Katarn nodded, continuing, "We'll cover more ground if we split up. Ben and I will check the central concourse and see if anyone in the trade sector has heard anything."
"Um..." I inclined my head, "That leaves us with the lower levels?"
"Unfortunately," Ben said with a smile, but I knew it was more of a test, a mission for us to see how we fare. "Try not to get mugged."
"We'll be fine," Vila assured him. "We have HK, isn't that true, master assassin?"
[Statement: I fail to see how a decorative servant droid will intimidate potential threats.]
"Oh? Now you are staying in character? Well... Your charming personality is a weapon all on its own." She continued grinning.
[Flat Response: If I had my old chassis, I could properly demonstrate the accuracy of that statement.]
"Not happening." I cut in, ending their back and forth, nodding at my Master, and we were on our separate ways, meeting back up at the ship five hours later.
...
....
.....
Kethari's lower levels were exactly what one would expect from an Outer Rim station on the edge of civilized space. Stale air, filled with the scent of rust, dim corridors, neon lighting that flickered with power fluctuations, and the sounds of groaning metal, beeping of droids, and a dozen or so alien languages arguing about something. Or just sounding angry all of the time. No wonder the last known Sith leader came here... This felt like the kind of place where people didn't ask questions, which made it the perfect hiding spot for someone like Vestara.
We moved carefully through the crowd, keeping our heads down but ears open. Vila walked beside my right, her eyes scanning every corner, while HK trailed behind us two. His pace was unnervingly smooth despite his constant stream of complaints about his body and situations. He was indeed a good assassin. He was already in perfect control of his new frame.
[Observation: The inhabitants of this sector appear to have a 76.3% likelihood of engaging in criminal activity.]
"Really?" Vila raised an eyebrow. "What gave it away? The spice dens or the illegal blaster shop? The slavers we passed two minutes ago? Or the dead body that had a leg sticking out of the trash compactor?"
[Clarification: No. Those are trivial indicators. I meant the general lack of personal hygiene and the aggressive body language, which suggest they are either criminals or exceptionally irritable merchants.]
"Both of you..." I sighed, glancing at the two, "HK, just... try to act normal."
[Statement: Ah, yes. Let me seamlessly integrate myself into the role of a subservient protocol droid. 'Oh, esteemed organic beings, how may I be of assistance? Perhaps you would like me to translate your barely coherent grunting into something resembling Basic?']
"Pft..." Vila covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.
"Try that, and they will try to disassemble all three of us!" I moaned while gazing at Vila. "You're enjoying this way too much. Stop it."
"You have no idea," she answered plainly, not even trying to refute my accusation.
As we passed a row of vendors, I suddenly slowed my pace, glancing at a flickering holoboard displaying recent ship logs. It was giving me a sudden idea, a thought that may have been caught not by my subconsciousness but by the Force itself. If Vestara had left, her vessel would've been logged somewhere. We had the report of a ship, or at least a ship-type she was supposedly used... If she was still here or operating around this region, someone would know.
"What is it?" Vila nudged me. "An idea?"
"Yeah." I nodded while I told her.
"We could try and find a local information broker..." She muttered, "Whenever my..." She trailed off, "Whenever I was brought to places like this, they were always visiting one to trade for a new client. We could find such a place and try our luck there."
"This is gonna take a while, huh?" I asked, scratching my chin.
"Yeah..." Vila nodded. "Probably."
[Statement: If we are to succeed in this search, I suggest more aggressive methods when the broker has been found. Interrogation, intimidation—perhaps dismemberment?]
"No..." I sighed, looking at its red eyes, "HK—"
[Resigned Acknowledgment: Yes, yes. 'Protocol droid behavior.' I will suffer in silence.]
"Haaahh..." I exhaled again... This was going to be a long night.