Sidekicks

From the top of a ridge, jungle moon Dxun, orbiting the planet Onderon:

"Insult: Meatbag."

"Junk pile."

"Insult: Meatbag."

"Junk pile."

"Insult: Meatbag."

"...."

"...."

"...."

"Query: No snappy retort, meatbag?"

"The day I feel the need to defend myself against an inanimate object is the day I eat my lightsaber."

"Correction: But I am animate, meatbag. Observe how I move my arm. My hand. See how I extend this metal digit."

"She rebuilt you to irritate me. I have come to realize this. She thought to herself: I know what Mal will just hate, this will punish him for beheading my doll when I was five. You know she still rails about that all these karking years later. That is exactly what this is all about, I just know it. This is for Lady Teaberry, you big bald son of a bitch. Exar karking Kun, you'd think she'd let it go.."

"Statement: Nonsense. The master recognized the value of my keen photoreceptors, my precise targeting systems, and my state-of-the-art assassination protocols."

"Which won't mean scrag when I cover you in grenades, and kick you down to the Mandos. What do you think about that?"

"Statement: While my behavior core glows at the thought of a brutal and shrapnel-filled event, I am afraid my programming includes a self-preservation routine."

"How about you stop making noise, droid? Use your infrared to scan the jungle."

"Statement: This unit detects only the presence of indigenous non-sentient lifeforms. Estimated arrival time for mandalorian detachment is one standard day. Calculation: But our trap is nearly foolproof, pet of the master. There is a 98.3333 percent chance it will all go according to plan."

"It better. I've already spent two karking days up on this damn ridge, in this damn jungle. I hate Dxun, there's nothing here but mud and mosquitoes."

"Consolation: It is a shame the parasites plague you so, pet of the master. Rhetorical: But what can you expect when you are made up of blood and guts?"

"Yes. If only I was made of cheap plasteel in a third-rate factory."

"Pleasure: You agree at last. Comment: Although the quality of my plasteel is exceptional."

"Then why were you a broken pile of junk left in a hangar? You're lucky she took pity on you."

"Statement: That is inconsequential. Besides. The master has improved greatly on my design."

"Why am I even talking to you, droid? You aren't a real sentient being. You're a thing. A noun. An object. I might as well be talking to that tree, or those coconuts. Hey coconuts, are we going to show those mandos or what?"

"Statement: Your logic is faulty, pet of the master. I am a protocol droid with exceptional communication skills, designed to resolve conflict between sentient parties. If you speak to me I can draw on over two thousand topics of conversation in major galactic languages. Whereas: If you talked to coconuts, you would be crazy."

"I think I'm halfway there."

"Statement: In that case it is perhaps the fault of the strong sun of this system. The heat is damaging your processor. Suggestion: Perhaps you should shield yourself with a helmet or a visor."

"Perhaps you should get karked, robot."

"Thinly veiled disgust: At the very least, cover your repulsive, fleshy cranium with hair, like other sentient mammal species."

"And cover up my ink?"

"Observation: How woefully primitive it is to use color markings and display to attract womb-possessing members of the species."

"Everyone has tattoos in my culture. I hail from a proud warrior race. These tatts get all the schuttas."

"Mockery: I love to draw on myself, do-de-do. Impressed yet, ladies? Yeah. That's right. That's the Malak."

"That doesn't even sound close, that sounds like me from inside a trash compactor. I'm gonna ask you something.You're supposed to be pretty smart, right.. for a robot?"

"Agreement: I am an advanced example of artificial intelligence. My risk assessment and pathfinding features are exceptional."

"Well.. it's just this. I fry people with evil magic and suck out their life force with the merest wave of my hand.Why the hell do you think it's a great idea to annoy me?"

"Statement: This unit quite enjoys your propensity for hormone-fueled rages of electrical destruction. It is the master's wish that we work together in deleting the Mandalores. Do not allow my comments to go to your behavior core, meatbag."

"..."

"..."

"Hormone fueled rages?"

"Statement: Indeed. Do not think this unit has not noticed your frustrated subroutines. They are pettish and predictable."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Interpretation: You are jealous of the attention that the master lavishes on me."

"Jealous? Ha ha ha ha ha. Jealous. Of you?"

"Statement: Of this unit. Revision: Desperately jealous."

"Ha! Jealous of a junk pile like you! This is too much... I needed a laugh."

"Comment: You do not have the diodes to confess your repulsive desire to interface with the master."

"Ha.. ha ha, I can't believe what I'm hearing. Ha ha ha. Is that what you think, you bolt-ridden scrap heap?"

"Statement: Perhaps it is for the best, considering it is a base expression from your primitive reptile brain matter."

"You don't know scrag. You're just a droid. You're junk. You don't know anything. You don't know me."

"Observation: It appears I have touched a sensor."

"You don't know me, you don't know anything about me!"

"Mockery: Oh master, the Jedi council will throw us out for sure, but rip off your evil cape and be my Onderon beast rider! Grrr rarr!"

"--and that sounds nothing like me."

"Mockery: Sounds nothing like me-me-me-memmm-muh-muh-muzzzzzzzoooOOOlt."

"..."

"zoooolddd...swwwsh."

"..."

"swwzz.... poot"

"In any karking case.. I'd make her leave the damn cape on."

******

12 hours later:

"The Mandalorians are headed this way, as I knew they would. Perfect. Once the greater part of their numbers has entered the stream that cuts through the valley, we'll activate our cleverly located generators. The current will fry them in their armor."

"Everything is in place."

"Good, I'm counting on you to.. What's wrong with my HK model?"

"I don't know."

"What happened?"

"He started making funny noises, and went offline. I can't get him to turn back on."

"Did you try to reboot?"

"Well I pressed some buttons but they didn't do anything. You know me. I don't know a thing about droids."

"It looks like a power surge. What a shame. After all that trouble of getting him to work again."

"Yeah. Too bad. I was starting to warm up to him."

"Hm.. Oh."

"What?"

"I didn't know you could see so far from up here. The jungle looks so peaceful, so alive. You'd never know a war was on."

"..."

"It's.. beautiful."

"..."

"..."

"Rev. Revan."

"Yeah, Mal?"

".. never mind."

"It's all right, silly."

"Then you know?"

"Of course. I've always known. Who's the brains of this outfit?"

"Oh, heh.. ha. I knew I couldn't hide anything from you."

"I know you try to pretend like you don't care, or that you even hate them.."

"It-it was foolish of me to think it would have cha..What, wait? 'Them?'"

"Oh Revan, how I detest these stupid pieces of metal, blah blah, not even human, etc.. yet I yearn secretly for a robot sidekick, it is written all over my big stupid face!"

"..."

"So, I thought you would like a droid of our very own, that's why I put him together. Loyalty, usefulness, and flamethrower upgrades. Every boy's dream, isn't it?"

"...thanks, Rev. Really."

"Don't worry, I'll have him back online before you know it. Now I've got to take this comm.."