Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, nor do I own HK-47, or ANYTHING Star Wars except for my collection of Hasbro merchandise. This story is a simple KOTOR fanfic, and I have/am/will not made/making/make a single penny from it. I'm not a rich man, either, so if you sue me, I won't have much to give. You'll be wasting your time, your money, and (if you have one) your lawyer's time. PLEASE, save us all the trouble.

Author's Notes: I'm a Star Wars freak, biggest one in existance, who just felt like writing from the pov of my favorite killer droid. First fanfic I've published in a LONG time, reviews welcome :D Enjoy!

Star Wars

Of Droids and Meatbags

The Tale of HK-47

1

Initializing...

All systems functional...

Memory Core activating...

Retrieving data...

I am a Hunter-Killer combat droid manufactured by the Sith. I am the personal bodyguard and assassin droid of one Darth Revan, current Dark Lord of the Sith. My designation is HK-47. I have just been activated for the first time.

I inspect myself. I have been equipped with a droid's type three heavy plating, a Universal Computer Interface, a Security Domination Interface, a Superior class targeting computer, a level three environment shield, an advanced flame thrower, and an advanced shield disruptor. Since I only possess two built-in secondary weapon slots, I have several concealed compartments, in which an advanced stun ray, advanced gravity generator, and a carbonite projector mark II wait in reserve. Also in these compartments I find thermal detonators, plasma grenades, and concussion grenades, three of each, as well as two construction kits to repair myself. In my hands I hold two Sith assassin pistols.

I look around. I appear to be in one if the droid maintenance rooms of a Sith warship. Before me stands Darth Revan, a male human of twenty-two standard years of age. He has dark, short hair on his head, a small goatee, an a scar running down his right cheek.

"Greeting," I say, "Hello to you. I am Hunter-Killer Forty-Seven, an assassin droid manufactured by the Sith, programed to protect you, Darth Revan, at all costs, and eliminate any and all enemies that you would have terminated.

"Query: do you have a command, Master? I exist to serve. Do you have anyone you would have me destroy, Master?"

"Actually," he says, "I would like to test you, see what you can do. Follow me."

"Obedient," I say. "As you desire, Master."

As Darth Revan's personal bodyguard, it is only logical that Lord Revan would make sure that I am the best he can get. I am determined not to disappoint him.

The Master leads me to a room that is most likely used by any Sith who wish to hone their combat skills.

"For the next few minutes," the Master tells me, "destroy any and all of the enemies that will emerge from either of those three doors at the other side of the room. Do whatever you have to to survive. You have to defeat them all in order to pass the test. If you fail, of course, you'll be destroyed. Understand?"

"Query: Might I ask just what enemies I will face, Master?" I ask.

"Just a few droids for now," he tells me. He leaves the room, and a moment later, I see him appear on a balcony above the training room. He presses a button next to him.

I turn back towards the three doors. One opens, and five Sith war droids step out. They begin to point their Sith sniper rifles at me.

Combat Mode active.

I quickly shoot two of them in the torso, disabling them. I also hit one with a blast from my advanced shield disruptor. The droid staggers, but still fires at me. I dodge the blasts easily. I then hit the same droid a second time with the disruptor. It explodes, and its remains fall to the floor. At the same time, I launch a plasma grenade at the remaining two droids. They see the grenade, and try to run, but they are not fast enough. The explosion disintegrates them both.

This is quite a lot of fun.

A second door opens. Three more droids enter, but a different model. They have built-in blasters, somewhat more powerful than the standard Sith sniper rifle. I immediately activate my environment shield, and the first blasts bounce harmlessly off me.

They stay foolishly close together, which will allow me to destroy them with a single grenade. These droids have a thicker plating. I use a thermal detonator this time. The disadvantage of these droids is that they move quite slowly. Two are demolished by the blast, but one is barely able to continue shooting at me. A well-aimed shot to its control panel takes care of that. All three droids are now twisted heaps of metal.

The third door opens. Five of both previous droid models enter. A plasma grenade destroys three of the weaker droids before they even travel three feet into the training room. The other two I shoot down with my pistols. The five stronger ones now advance towards me. I need not worry about their blasters. My environment shield will protect me.

Suddenly, a blast rips a hole in my left arm plating. The environment shield has unfortunately worn out by now. That is annoying.

I quickly reactivate it, and continue firing at the droids. Three hits from my disruptor takes care of one. Two more destroy another. As I aim at the third, my environment shield suddenly deactivates. A blaster bolt hits my chassis, sending me flying into a wall. My disruptor's blast hits the opposite wall.

Something is wrong. My shield cannot possibly have worn out again already. I try to reactivate it, but nothing happens. It is malfunctioning. No matter. I dodge the energy blasts, managing to launch my last plasma grenade at the three remaining droids. It does not completely destroy them, but it causes enough damage to stun them for just a moment, long enough for me to blast one of them twice with my disruptor, using up its last two charges. While the droid is destroyed, the disruptor is now worthless. I eject it, and load my flamethrower into the slot.

The droids are now active again. I fire my flamethrower at one, and its plating starts to melt. The melting metal leaks into its circuitry, and it unsurprisingly shuts down. I repeat the same tactic with the last droid, and thus, I am triumphant in my test.

Combat Mode deactivated.

In a way, I am disappointed. Combat is wonderful fun. I wish it could have lasted longer.

The Master grants my wish. For the next few hours, I face similar tests with increasing length and difficulty. Finally, the tests are over. While they were certainly enjoyable, it is perhaps best that they have all been completed. I have two holes in my left arm, one in my right leg, three it my chassis, and an energy blast to my right shoulder seems to have cut through several wires, so my right arm is slightly malfunctioning, in addition to some other damage to the top plating of my head that not even a construction kit can repair. I have also used all of my grenades and secondary weapons.

The Master enters the training room.

"Pretty good, HK," he says. "I'm impressed."

"Gratitude: thank you, Master," I say.

I feel quite proud. I have impressed the Master. He is most likely convinced that I am the best assassin droid in the Sith army.

"Now get to maintenance," he says. "You need it. Badly."

"Agreement: I believe you are correct, Master," I say, reexamining the damage.

I hurry off to maintenance, where my shoulder is rewired, and my head repaired. In addition, I am fitted with a new plating and environment shield, and given replacement weapons and grenades for the ones I used in the tests.

The door to the maintenance room opens. The Master enters, followed by an unusually tall human dressed in Sith Master robes. He has shaved all hair from his head, and has painted a large tattoo on his scalp. Searching my memory banks, I recognize him as Malak, Revan's apprentice. Further exploration of my memory banks reveals that Sith tradition dictates that when the apprentice feels that they have surpassed their master, they must challenge their master in a duel to the death for the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. As Revan's bodyguard, I will have to watch Malak very closely.

"HK, this is my apprentice, Malak, which you probably already know. Malak, HK-47."

Malak inspects me closely. "So you're Revan's new toy, hmm?" says Malak.

Toy? I am insulted.

"Objection!" I shout. "This unit is a highly-skilled assassination droid custom-made to protect Darth Revan himself, not a device for a child's amusement! Master, this apprentice of yours is quite annoying and disrespectful. Shall I terminate him for you?"

"No," says the Master. "He is the second-in-command of the Sith Order. I think that means we need him."

"Statement: Sith tradition dictates that he must eventually attempt to kill you," I say. "He is therefore a danger to you, Master."

"Sith tradition also dictates that I always have an apprentice," the Master reminds me. "So, from your point of view, I will always have that danger anyway."

"As you desire, Master," I sigh. "But rest assured that should I discover that he is attempting to harm you in any way, I will gladly terminate him for you."

"Suck up," Malak whispers quietly. He does not realize that my audio receptors can hear much more than the human ear. I choose to ignore him, however.

"Terminate..." the Master murmurs, "that reminds me, Malak, how did things go with those three Jedi we caught yesterday on Faleen?"

"I had to torture them for some time," says Malak. "One I eventually broke, and he has wisely seen our way. The other two kept idiotically coughing up that Jedi "wisdom," and so I killed them. They are now floating somewhere near Sullust. Or, at least, what's left of them is floating there. Which means that's three more Jedi gone. Every one helps, as you told me, Revan."

"Observation: aside from his risk to your welfare, Master, you apprentice is very cold and cruel," I interject. "I like him."

Malak appears to be somewhat curious. "You've given it quite an...interesting personality, Revan," he comments.

"I find it amusing," says the Master.

" 'Amusing?' " repeats Malak. "Well then, I guess I was right the first time. It is a toy."

Once again, I am insulted. Malak is obviously insulting me for his own entertainment. I imagine what a lovely sight he would be after being blasted, and start to suggest this once again to the Master.

"No, HK, you cannot kill him," the Master says before I can finish my request.

"Disappointment: As you wish, Master," I say.

"And you, Malak," says the Master, "stop bothering him. You might make him angry."

"So bloody what?" asks Malak. "It's just a stupid battle droid."

"Malak, do you really think that I would use just an ordinary war droid as my personal bodyguard?" asks the Master. "He may yet surprise you, in a way that you may not particularly like."

Malak glares at me. "I fail to see how a mere droid could defeat the next Dark Lord of the Sith, Revan," he says. "I think you overestimate your toy's abilities."

Again, he refers me as a toy? Oh, how I yearn to blast this stupid organic! It would bring me much satisfaction and no doubt impress the Master as well.

And lo and behold, the Master suddenly turns to me and says, "HK, attack Malak."

Combat Mode active.

I do not even waste time to reply. I activate my environment shield, just in time, as Malak draws, activates, and swings his saber at me all in one motion. The shield absorbs most of the energy, but not all. I am knocked to the right. Nevertheless, I open fire at the annoying organic.

His reflexes are excellent. He blocks or deflects each of my blasts. I will have to try something new. I shoot a stream of carbonite at him. He leaps to the side, but not in time. His lightsaber arm is caught in the jet of liquid, which is quickly hardening. While the energy blade vaporizes any carbonite that touches it, Malak's arm does not. He soon finds himself unable to move that arm, leaving him completely defenseless. I am just raising my blasters to aim at his head when-

"Stop, stop, stop," calls the Master. "That's enough."

"Complaint: Oh, but Master, I am one blast away from ridding you of you apprentice forever!" I cry.

"No, HK, this was just a demonstration," he tells me. "I only wanted to show Malak just what you are capable of. You have done quite a bit more than enough."

"Resignation," I say, "Very well, Master. Very well."

Combat Mode deactivated.

"You see Malak?" asks the Master. "I choose my bodyguards very carefully. Now go clean yourself up."

I am pleased to see that a glob of carbonite apparently landed on Malak's mouth, preventing him from responding. He stands up, glaring at us, and attempts to make a dignified exit, which is ruined when his immobilized arm knocks over a repair droid, and the saber in his immobilized arm slices through the doorway on his way out.

I enter the bridge of the True Perfection, personal warship of Lord Darth Revan and Flagship for the Sith Armada. The Master walks just ahead of me. Trough the giant viewports, I see the swirling whiteness of Hyperspace. Everyone else stares at us, each with an identical expression of nervousness. I am both surprised and proud to see that they are just as afraid of me as they are of the Master. I jerk my blasters up threateningly, just to see them all jump slightly. The Master looks amused even through his mask and cloak.

Admiral Notrachan approaches the Master. "My Lord," he begins, bowing, "The fleet will be dropping out of Hyperspace in just two minutes."

"Excellent," says the Master. "What is the situation that we know of?"

"Well, as you know," explains the Admiral, to the entire assembly rather than just to the Master, "On our most recent voyage, we have traveled from Nal Hutta to Falleen, and then Sullust. We then followed the Hydian Way, and we very recently turned onto the Correllian Run. The next major Republic World we will come to is, of course, Correllia. We will be dropping out of Hyperspace momentarily. Even if Republic Forces have realized that we are coming, it is doubtful that backup will arrive in time, so this should be a quick strike. Notice the emphasis I place on the words doubtful and should, so be alert. The plan is for True Perfection to lead the main attack with Black Hole and Thunderstorm just behind us as backup, while Leviathan, Art of Destruction and Supernova circle around opposite sides of the planet to cut off any escaping craft. By the time we're finished with the orbital assault, the rest will have arrived and we will start on the ground assault from there. Everyone clear?"

"Clear!" shouts the assembly.

"Good," says the Admiral.

"Request," I say, "Master, can I watch the battle? Please, Master, may I, please-"

"All right, all right!" shouts the Master. "Stay here, just don't distract anyone."

"Assurance: Do not worry, Master. I will be far to busy watching the battle to distract anyone," I say.

The Master and I stand at the front of the bridge to get the best possible view of the battle. The ship rocks and lurches as it exits Hyperspace. The blue and green world of Correllia grows into sight. But five Republic warships also grow into sight along with it.

"As I said," says Admiral Notrachan, "Emphasis on doubtful, and should."

The bridge shakes as a blast hits the True Perfection.

"Shields up!" shouts the Master, "and get me in contact with the rest of the fleet!"

As usual, the Master demonstrates why he is the leader of the Sith Order. Immediately decisive in any situation.

The panel nearest to us flashes, indicating that its comlink is active. The Master hurries over to it. "New plan," he yells into it, "Supernova, stay your course. Make a pass around the planet and check for any other enemy craft. Art of Destruction, Leviathan, turn around to meet us, and begin your attacks on the Republic fleet. Black Hole, watch for any escaping vessels. Any that you see, shoot down. Thunderstorm, hold your position. We might need you soon."

A chorus of agreements and acknowledgments rise from the comlink. In fifteen seconds, one Republic warship is destroyed by the Leviathan. Another is disabled by the Art of Destruction.

"Supernova reporting," comes a voice from the comlink. "We found one stray warship, and destroyed it. We see no sign of any other enemy craft in the area, other than those at your coordinates."

"Good," replies the Master. "Hold your position and keep a lookout, just in case."

"Copy."

"Agh!" shouts a different voice. "Art of Destruction, here. We've taken a direct hit. Our shields are non-functional, and we have a big hole on our port side."

"Fall back!" orders the Master. "Fall back! Trade positions with Thunderstorm."

Another Republic vessel explodes at the hands of the Leviathan in a flash of light. At the same time, several small craft are launched from the leading Republic warship. Five fighters and four bombers. They are heading straight toward the True Perfection. I know for a fact that the fighters could never hope to penetrate our shields, but the bombers could. The fighters are there to escort and protect the bombers. It is a desperate plan, but it could work.

The Master realizes this as well. "Focus on that squadron!" he screams. "Shoot them down! Shoot them down!" As our fighters and turrets alike attempt to obey the command, the enemy fighters quite easily blast a path through them.

"Those fighters," growls the Master, "Jedi. They're piloted by Jedi. Our forces will never be able to get through them. Too many of our fighters are too far away, and it's not too hard for Jedi to dodge turret blasts."

"Confidence: I am sure, however, that you could, Master," I say.

"Yes," agrees the Master. "I can." He thinks for a moment. "Better take out the bombers first," he mutters.

He closes his eyes in concentration, and claps two hands together. Two of the bombers suddenly swerve into each other, and are ripped apart in the collision. The other two continue toward us, one in front of the other. Eyes still closed in concentration, the Master ignores the cheers coming from the other organic officers, raises one hand, and the leading bomber stops suddenly. The second one collides with the first, and both are destroyed.

By this time, enough of our fighters have come close enough to destroy the five Jedi-piloted fighters. Meanwhile, the lead Republic warship continues toward us, alone. Its companion was blasted apart by the Thunderstorm moments ago. As one, the Leviathan, Thunderstorm, and True Perfection fire at the last Republic warship. Its shields quickly give way under the assault. Next, its engines are blasted to pieces. Finally, the doomed ship is ripped apart into two pieces. As the hunks of twisted metal spiral down towards the planet's surface, I watch them very closely. It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my three days of existence.