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[Fic] Star Wars: Assassination Protocols


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thanks fellas! :)

and i like the sig a lot myself :D

 

@ Pottsie: he was being sarcastic about that, as usual ;)

 

@ iggy: well, i have the story written in a short form (very, very short form) in a planning notebook that i keep. ever since i started using a notebook to plan out my fics, writing has been easy going for me, so i shouldnt have much of a problem, but i still write the two fics after at least a day's gap between the last chapter that i wrote, so that i don't confuse the plots and dialogues.

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"Yes meatbag...get a breath freshener..."

Too funny. It's a fun story to read.

 

@igyman--I actually got some really good ideas from people when I posted it a chapter at a time. I tried some different things based on some of those comments and they made it a better story. I couldn't write the whole thing and then post it--it'd be way too long for people to read all at one time and make comments.

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You, misunderstood me, Jae, I didn't mean post the entire fic at once, I meant write all the chapters somewhere before you post, that way you've already done most of your work and you only need to fine tune your remaining chapters based on the readers' comments on the first few posted chapters.

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LOL!! I was laughing when HK decided to spout his comment at the most inopportune moment. I actually got a few stares. Well I guess HK still has his sense of humor. I liked this entanglement and I am sure HK does as well since he gets to blast some meatbags in the process.

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  • 1 month later...

Eric sat in the lounge aboard the Scorcher and contemplated his next move. As he sat there thinking, HK walked in, minus his customary blaster and plus a screwdriver. He sat down next to Eric and got to work on his left arm.

 

“So, what now?” HK asked as he carefully removed the panel and began replacing the severed wires. “Any plans for the future?”

 

Eric scoffed and leaned back in a relaxed pose, though he was still thinking hard.

 

“I doubt I can get good dough as a smuggler anymore,” he said. “Jabba used to tpay the highest. The other rates are so low, I might as well deliver them on foot.”

 

He fell silent for a while, then his face lit up as he remembered something.

 

“There’s one person I know,” he said, and looked up at HK to observe the droid distractedly. “He apparently helped in the destruction of the Death Star.”

 

HK paused and looked up, waiting.

 

“He was one of my teenage buddies, Han Solo,” Eric said, a fain smile on his face. “Apparently he’s with the Rebel Alliance now.”

 

“So you plan to join him?” HK asked as he finished connecting the last wire and started fusion-welding his damaged forearm plate.

 

“Not as active or deep in as he is, of course,” Eric said. “Maybe just as a shipper. They pay well and I'll be doing something worthwhile as well.”

 

“Whatever you say,” said HK skeptically. “Any idea where to start?”

 

“Han once gave me a holocomm unit,” Eric said vaguely. “He told me to leave him a message if I needed him. I doubt he still has it, but it’s our best bet to searching all the isolated planetary systems in the Galaxy.”

************************************************************************

Eric occasionally regretted that message he had left to Han and this was one of those moments. The icy winds of Hoth nipped at the exposed bits of his face, pinking the flesh. He sneezed violently and sniffed.

 

“I hate this place,” he muttered to HK, who was standing beside him and was covered in a thin layer of ice. “Did I mention that?”

 

HK sighed and electronic sigh and nodded.

 

“My memory banks recorded you saying that phrase one hundred and seventeen times since we landed here initially.”

 

Eric rolled his eyes and sneezed again.

 

“It was a rhetorical question.”

 

“And I gave you a rhetorical answer,” HK replied. “The actual figure is much larger.”

 

Eric chuckled. Or he might have even been shivering, you could never tell when someone was under that much clothing.

 

“Let’s go back inside,” he suggested, followed by another sneeze. “Before I catch a serious cold.”

 

They made their way inside to Eric’s ship and boarded the warm, temperature-manipulated vessel.

 

“Ahh, I love this warmth,” Eric exclaimed as he pulled off his various coats, thermals and other items of clothing.

 

Eric and HK had been working for the Rebel Alliance as cargo shippers for the past 6 months. They were making urgent deliveries to Hoth for supplies like construction materials, food, first aid, and so on, punctuated by the occasional race with Han’s Millennium Falcon, which both of them won in turns. Eric wasn’t a very big fan of the climate, but the finances were good and steady, so he decided to live with it. Just as he slumped on his couch and was about to switch on the HoloNet, an alarm blared through the large hangar. It was instantly annoying and irritated Eric, but he kept his calm realizing it was a Red Alert. He pulled his winter wear back on in a hurry and ran out, to see a group of suited up pilots in a circle around Princess Leia. Eric hurried over and listened to her briefing. Just as she was done and everyone dispersed, however, one of the Lieutenants came up to him and cleared his confusion.

 

“Sir, would you mind gunning for one of our snowspeeders?” he asked Eric. “We need one more man.”

 

“What’s going on?” Eric asked.

 

“The Imperials have attacked, sir, and they’ve landed five AT-ATs,”

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Stop teasing igyman. RC that was a good chapter. You give good descriptin as to the surroundings and what Eric is feeling in terms of being out of work and workng in a snow covered world. I still miss the prefixes on HK but a bigger question came to mind: What does C3PO think of the assassination droid? I would think HK and R2 would get along as much as HK and T3. Good job. I was wondering if you forgot about this fic.

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“Don’t take your eyes off this screen,” instructed pilot Tycho Celchu, the Rebel Eric had been assigned to for this battle. “There’s an optic fiber mounted at the tip of your harpoon gun, so you’ll be seeing what it’s seeing. When I give the command, use it, whatever the purpose may be.”

 

Eric nodded once and moved the controls around to get a feel of them.

 

“I hear you, sir,” he said and buckled himself into his rear-facing gunner seat. Tycho nodded and did the same with his. In a few minutes, they were streaking through the frigid, buffeting winds of Hoth.

 

“Rogue Squadron,” a voice rang through the comm. “This is Commander Skywalker. I need half of you to tackle those walkers with me and the rest of you to take out all the AT-STs you encounter. You’ll find several to the two o’clock position.”

 

Tycho was an temporary inductee into Rogue Squardon for this fight and was also among the pilots that broke off and headed for the AT-ST forces harassing the escaping Rebels.

 

Tycho’s lasers fired in rapid fire mode and several AT-STs were destroyed before they knew what hit them. The survivors turned the chicken-shaped heads at the advancing Snowspeeders and a few of them managed some badly aimed shots before taking fatal blows from the Speeders’ cannons.

 

“These are too easy,” commented Eric. “Are you sure they aren’t diversions?”

 

In the next second, Tycho’s comm shouted out a piece of advise in Luke Skywalker’s voice.

 

“That armor is too strong for blasters,” Luke said. “Rogue Group, use your harpoons and tow cables, go for the legs. It’s the only gamble we’ve got.”

 

“You may be right,” Tycho said to Eric as he tore off his present course and spun around in a wide u-turn back toward the AT-AT vs Snowspeeder fracas.

 

Just as the duo caught sight of the first AT-AT’s hulking body frame, Wedge’s voice crackled over the comm,

“Cable out, let ‘er go!”

 

A second later, one of the five advancing walkers tripped. Tycho and Eric watched as the large terror-weapon of the Empire sank to its knees, then bodily to the ground, exposing it’s vulnerable neck. A pair of Snowspeeders swooped down and with a few well-placed shots, turned the downed behemoth into a pile of rubble. The comm was suddenly filled with whoops and war cries.

 

Eager to try out the new trick, several pilots went for the tactic. Many misaligned their shots, causing the harpoons to go wide. Several others were shot at. One lucky potshot from General Maxmillan Veers’ walker caught Hobbie’s snowspeeder and the fighter began to lurch out of control. Black smoke was trailing it and Hobbie seemed to be recklessly heading for the ‘head’ of said walker.

 

“What the heck is he doing?” said Eric, shocked.

 

“Eh, typical Hobbie,” said Tycho casually as he fired at the visor of one of the nearer AT-ATs. “Watch the finale.”

 

Eric kept his eyes glued to the front-view screen at his side and watched as, at the last possible moment, Hobbie’s canopy blasted open and a pair of T-47 Snowspeeder seats came flying out.

 

“That’s how he got his nickname,” explained Tycho as he brought the speeder down and headed for the legs of the walker.

 

“Ah, does that a lot, I guess,” Eric said, relieved that Hobbie at least knew what he was doing.

 

“Ready,” said Tycho suddenly, all business. Eric obeyed and vigilantly checked his scopes. “Activate harpoon!”

 

The leg of the AT-AT came into clear view and Eric pulled the trigger of his gun. The unit shuddered and a sharp, long harpoon shot out of the barrel, trailing a thick, strong cable made of titanium alloy. The speeder swerved as Tycho maneuvered the fighter in tight loops around the walkers’ legs.

 

“Cable out,” Tycho said and Eric cut the cord that was whipping out, winding around the walker’s legs. The gigantic machine took another step, and went crashing down as it’s comrade had a few minutes ago.

 

“Good shot, Eric,” congratulated Tycho.

 

Just as they were heading for another walker, General Rieekan issued an order through the comm.

 

“All non-Rogue Squadron pilots return to base and board the transports or use your ships immediately. The final stages of evac are in progress. Get going.”

 

“I guess that mean us,” Tycho said as he broke off the run and headed to base.

 

“Aww,” said Eric, feigning disappointment. “I was just getting started.”

 

“You still have time, hotshot,” Tycho said with a chuckle as he cut power to the engines and brought the speeder to rest in the freezing hangars of the Echo base. The pair got out of their fighter, shook hands with a parting farewell, and walked their respective ways.

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excuse the shortness again, but as i said earlier, i'm just getting back into the groove, and i've been suffering from cases of depression too, so, yeah.

HK isn't there in this chapter, but he'll be there in the next one. this was mostly flight combat and HK firing a harpoon would have looked lame.

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  • 2 months later...

yes, its finally here. now, as a warning, let me tell you that this is the first time im writing since maybe...5 weeks, so please excuse any crappiness and i want everyone to be extra critical on this chapter to get my sorry writing a$$ back into shape. and take this as a gift to you , JM12, iggy and Pottsie :)

 

EIGHT

 

“Oh hello,” rattled a golden protocol droid as it approached HK. “Nice to see another droid here.”

 

“Then what do you call this R2 unit trailing behind you?” HK asked, in a mood for some fun. “A trash can on wheels?”

 

R2 beeped violently and rocked sideways.

 

“Shut up you silly little droid,” HK snapped.

 

“Really, there’s no need to be rude. We were just trying to be friends.” C-3PO complained.

 

“Really?” said HK, humoring the protocol droid. “Well, do you enjoy using one of these?” He held up his custom made blaster.

 

“Goodness me, no!” exclaimed 3PO in a shocked tone.

 

“Do you even know how to use it?” HK asked.

 

“I have never handled a weapon in my duration of service, and I certainly don’t plan to do so. I am a protocol droid with the primary purpose of human-cyborg relations. I speak in over…”

 

“Want to be friends? Learn to shoot meatbags.” HK interjected and walked away, mechanically chuckling to himself. He walked up the entry ramp of the Scorcher and climbed up to his workshop level and got to work on lubricating his ice covered joints.

 

“You certainly have a way with other droids,” came a voice from the main deck.

 

“What a prissy droid that was.” HK replied. “It's self-possessed protocol droids like them that give the whole droid community a bad name.”

 

“I’m not going to ask how,” Eric replied from below as the engines warmed up to prep for take-off. “Hold on tight.”

 

In three minutes, the ship’s computer listed all systems as go and the YT-2000 lifted out of the icy hangar and blasted into the air.

 

“Well, where to now?” HK asked as he marched into the cockpit where Eric was checking to see that no systems were affected by the climate on Hoth.

 

“Since I’m not an officer in their army, the Rebels decided not to make me privy to their newest hiding place. And knowing their taste, they probably might pick another extreme like Mustafar, or Tatooine. I’d like to die of a ripe old age, and not due to weather based causes.”

 

“So after six months of ‘worthwhile work’ as you put it, can we finally get back to blasting meatbags and giant slugs?” HK asked hopefully.

 

“Credits are the determinants, HK, not just target practice.” Eric said. “While I don’t consider myself a bad shot, I wouldn’t kill someone just for the fun of it.”

 

“You really disappoint me, Eric,” HK said, looking down and shaking his head. “I expected a great deal of brutality from you, seeing how you dealt with all the Hutts we met.”

 

Eric laughed and went back to his computer screens.

 

“Sometimes I can never tell if you’re serious or otherwise.” He retorted. “Anyway, you’re the assassination droid. What job would you suggest that’s high paying and yet you still get to kill ‘meatbags,’ as you put it?”

 

HK was silent for a few seconds, as if he was thinking, or, in his case, consulting databanks, and then replied,

“Bounty hunting.”

 

“What?” Eric looked up. “I’ll be eaten for breakfast by the likes of Boba Fett, Bossk and IG-88”

 

“Boba Fett is a Mandalorian, and the time I was created, the Mandalorians were the losers. I know what their weaknesses are, that will not be a problem. Bossk is a mere carnivore, throw a juicy bantha steak in his way and his target is forgotten. IG-88 is a primitive collection of metal and wires.” HK replied confidently.

 

“But I don’t know Fett’s weaknesses, I don’t have a juicy bantha steak, and IG-88 has killed a lot of civilians for a ‘pile of metal and wires’. Do you want me to commit suicide?”

 

“You forget that I am a top-of-the-line assassin droid, Eric. I enjoy the work, and you get the pay. Everyone wins.”

 

“Except for the poor fellow that gets into your targeting scope,” Eric mumbled thoughtfully. “All right, bounty hunting it is, but you do the hunting. I’ll just collect the bounties, I’d rather have a relatively clean conscience.”

 

“Ah. Humans have such weak staminas. Perhaps you should watch more gory holovids.”

 

“No thanks, I prefer to keep my meals in my stomach.” Eric replied.

 

“Tsk Tsk. All that potential, wasted.”

 

“You are one oddly amusing droid, HK.” Eric commented as he got up and headed to his bunks.

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” HK replied as he prepared to power down in the cargo hold. He slung his blaster around his metal neck and with a final self-systems check, powered down to standby more, his ice-blue photoreceptors dimming gradually till the whole cargo hold was filled with darkness.

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