The assassin droid, created during the Old Republic by Darth Revan himself, even after thousands of years, was "deadly" efficient and, thanks to years of experience and a highly developed AI, far surpassed its more "younger" counterparts.
In the entire studied part of the galaxy, it hated only 3 things with its entire electronic personality matrix: stupid bags of meat, saving stupid bags of meat, and inaction when there was a chance to participate in a firefight, even if not with bags of meat. And the Master's order to protect a small bag of meat forced it into inaction. The triple blow to its emotion simulation subroutines made the droid almost spark with indignation. More and more often, it cast a glance at the object of protection with its crimson optical sensors, considering the tempting option of "accidentally" exposing the kid to a burst from a rapid-fire droideka blaster. But loyalty to the Master's orders stubbornly blocked this stream of calculations.
The young organic himself only added fuel to the fire, trying to hit the center of the most heavily fired area. Because of this, HK was forced to constantly drag the protected object to safety by the scruff of its neck, missing all the fun of the firefights. Even if they weren't particularly fun, as the Trade Federation droids turned out to be remarkably stupid, clumsy, and with obvious system aiming glitches. Otherwise, how to explain the fact that a machine created for combat, devoid of the imperfections of organic beings, problems with morality and weaknesses of the flesh, missed a stationary target by a good half meter from ten steps away?
And this bucket on wheels, mistakenly called an astromech, always got underfoot and behaved no better than Skywalker.
HK even "kindly" remembered his old friend, T3-M4. The small droid also liked to stick its flat head into the thick of things. Apparently, this R2-D2 could be considered a follower of the recklessly brave astromech of antiquity. Simply - the Cult of the Heroic Mechanic!
And now, as soon as the Queen's guards blew up two AAT tanks covering the main hangar gates of the palace, the small bag of meat rushed into the thick of events, followed by the equally restless young royal. The bucket, without wasting time, rustled after them.
For almost a full second, which was unusually long for him, HK watched as crimson streaks of blaster bolts flew anywhere but at the running young troublemakers and a rather wide, though squat, barrel-shaped target, and finally became convinced that the enemy droids were hopeless.
Of course, the guards also lacked combat training. But it would be foolish to expect anything else from the self-defense forces of a peaceful planet where the army was non-existent, and the guard served exclusively as an honor guard.
However, the Jedi were correcting the situation. They advanced confidently, covering not only the queen but also her soldiers, while simultaneously destroying dozens of mechanical soldiers. However, assessing their actions, HK concluded that the representatives of the Order were either holding back or did not possess the level of training that was quite common for knights of the Old Republic era. He used the padawans Juhani and Bastila as a benchmark. Undoubtedly talented, but still padawans. And they, from the perspective of the assassin droid, would have handled it much faster and more effectively. After all, the current Jedi, for some reason, didn't even think of using the Force to disable enemy droids. Even though the Master's wife, back when they were searching for the Star Forge, could easily short-circuit the control circuits of at least five droids at once.
HK was about to make a caustic comment that would assess the actions of the Order members, as well as their training, origin, and obvious regression, but, casting a quick glance at the broken formation of enemy droids, he just shook his head.
Criticizing bags of meat when their mechanical brethren had themselves degraded to such a level... he didn't want to.
The small bag of meat took advantage of this moment to get into further trouble, driven by his obsessive idea of seeing the fighting Jedi.
"Irritated: 435 years of active service," the droid grumbled, shooting the head off one of the V-1s aiming at Anakin. "7659 successful eliminations," a couple more shots left through holes in the opponents' elongated "faces." "2 galactic wars." The mechanical arm grabbed Skywalker by the collar of his shirt and threw him behind crates stacked two tiers high along a row of N-1 starfighters. "16 local conflicts." A thermal detonator rolled into a crowd of V-1s. "And I ended up... as a nanny."
The droid hung its head and, without even looking at the target, turned another enemy into a pile of riddled scrap metal.
"Tired commentary: Should have stayed with the Mandalorians," HK lamented his hard fate.
The next moment, a new detachment of enemies ran into the hangar, opening a rapid but disorderly fire. However, after a couple of seconds, HK changed his mind, as one of the blaster bolts narrowly missed the assassin's right shoulder. The fire was disorderly, but dense.
"Strict order: Hey, you, small bag of meat, hide in the fighter cockpit. The armor will protect you better than a couple of Jedi at the other end of the hangar."
Anakin was about to object, but a series of shots at his feet made him immediately curb his rebellious nature and obey.
"Threateningly: Move!" the assassin droid roared, planning to set fire to the restless object of protection with the next burst.
HK had just made sure that the boy was safely hidden in the fighter cockpit when the doors at the far end of the hangar opened, and a tall humanoid in a black robe emerged to face the Jedi.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a Zabrak with a blood-red skin color, uncharacteristic for his race.
"Go on, Your Majesty," Qui-Gon said. "This is our business."
His padawan, Kenobi, stood beside him.
The Zabrak followed his opponents' example, shedding his inconvenient robe, activating his double-bladed lightsaber, and taking a stance.
The guard pilots, meanwhile, had already captured most of the starfighters and, following the plan, took off to attack the droid control station.
HK, on the other hand, focused on the Zabrak, recognizing him as the one the Master had encountered on Tatooine. It would be good to capture him for interrogation. The Creator would be pleased. However, the droid was not going to disobey orders and leave Anakin without protection.
Suddenly, the sound of engines starting up came from behind. Turning around, HK saw the canopy of an N-1 close, and the starfighter smoothly taxied for takeoff. R2-D2's head was sticking out of the astromech socket.
HK made a sound like a noisy exhale and slapped himself in the faceplate with the palm of his hand.
The restless bucket on wheels had apparently gone to the starfighter and, entering the astromech navigator loading area, activated the automatic launch procedure.
"Irritated muttering: If he returns in one piece, I'll pull out all his internals and replace them with a trash compactor, so that the intelligence level of this, so to speak, droid, matches its purpose!"
However, the fact that the protected object was rapidly moving away from the planet's surface did not negate the threat of swift retribution against the astromech.
So, Skywalker was out of reach, the Jedi had disappeared behind an explosion-proof door with the Zabrak, and the guards were preparing to move on to try and capture the viceroy. The droid had to decide what to do next. However, he had to improvise quite often.
"HK, where's Anakin?" the Queen shouted from the other end of the hangar, noticing the boy's absence while her men were regrouping.
"Confident answer: Safe," the droid replied, concluding that the fighter cockpit could indeed be considered a safe place.
After all, there was no confirmation that Skywalker would end up anywhere in the thick of battle. Therefore, this factor could be ignored. Moreover, the Queen could also be considered a minor bag of meat in need of protection. And the monarch's status placed a high priority on the safety of this person, which HK planned to ensure. He had to compensate somehow for the hypothetical failure of the initial order to the Master.
Panaka, the head of security, did not allow the Queen to ask further questions. He reminded the monarch of the limited time for the operation and urged her to leave the hangar.
"Are you with us?" he asked the droid briefly.
HK nodded and followed the dark-skinned guard.
Without Jedi support, the Queen's soldiers sharply slowed their pace. Skirmishes with droids dragged on, guardsmen often exposed themselves to enemy fire and sustained wounds. Only by sheer luck had no one died yet. However, taking each individual corridor or room took precious minutes, which led HK-47 to decide to take the vanguard.
It helped. The assassin's accuracy combined with his speed left the enemy droids no chance.
"Hold!" one of the guardsmen, who was walking slightly ahead, inspecting the side passages, raised his hand. "There are almost two dozen droids and a dozen droidekas blocking the corridor. Looks like an ambush."
"Sarcastically: An ambush? Really? Did you figure that out by the number of droids per square meter?" drawled the bored HK, who was starting to get tired of the monotony of shooting B-1s.
The droidekas could have offered some resistance, but there were few of them. And HK had experience destroying similar machines.
The guardsman was clearly offended by the droid's comment, but he didn't make a scene about it, earning the assassin's silent approval.
"What shall we do, Your Highness?" Panaka turned to the Queen. "We can try to exit through the eastern gallery and climb the outer wall to the next floor to bypass the ambush. However, we will lose about ten minutes."
"But we'll save our people," one of the soldiers timidly voiced.
The Queen fell into thought. She herself had insisted on being allowed to make all decisions herself. However, now, she would have preferred to trust someone more experienced in military tactics and strategy.
HK-47, meanwhile, cautiously peeked around the corner. The droids did not react. The assassin waved his mechanical hand. A couple of droidekas twitched, but no shot followed.
Assessing the information gathered during the assault, HK concluded that the Trade Federation droids prioritized organic targets. B-1s and droidekas did not attack HK until he attacked first. The situation was exactly the same with the bucket-like astromech. Without an order from the controlling AI, which had set the goal of opposing the royal guard, consisting of organics, they would not shoot at a similar mechanical soldier. This was a huge drawback of the B-1 series.
Of course, it was strange that the control station had not simply updated the target designation parameters, adding HK to the priority targets. However, perhaps a reboot was required for this, which was impossible during an assault. Or perhaps the Neimoidians decided to save money on the control station AI, limiting the number of simultaneously processed information streams. In this case, the battle with the Gungans should take up the lion's share of computational power. So, there was a chance.
"We will go around," the Queen decided in the meantime.
"Urgent recommendation: Wait exactly two minutes," the assassin droid said, approaching the guardsman acting as a sapper and taking from his backpack a satchel charge assembled from eight thermal detonators. "Insistently: Give it here. Watch and learn, you useless bag of meat."
HK put away his weapon, hid the package behind his back, and confidently walked out from around the corner, heading towards the ambush.
"Halt! Identify yourself!" ordered a B-1 with officer markings.
The droids took aim at the assassin, but did not open fire, trying to reach the control station via a coded channel.
"Joyful greeting: Hello, fellow droids! I am HK-47, Assassin Droid. I sincerely hate these stupid and useless bags of meat and have arrived here to assist you in their elimination," announced the ancient droid, raising his empty manipulators upwards.
The B-1s exchanged glances.
"Motivation unclear. Emotional coloring. Clarifying instructions needed," stammered the officer.
"Friendly: Oh, come on. We are all droids here. Why the distrust?" HK took a few steps forward.
The opponents, meanwhile, were figuring out what to do. The orders to attack and destroy organics were clear. The task of capturing the Queen alive was also quite understandable. But what to do with a droid? The AI did not respond to requests, sending the palace defenders into a waiting queue and prioritizing the army fighting the surprisingly well-organized Gungans.
"Kindly: I see you are in doubt. Allow me to dispel them! I have a gift!" HK pulled out the homemade satchel charge from the guardsmen, wrapped in a rag, from behind his back.
"What is this?" asked the nearest B-1.
"Explanation: A gift. A surprise for him," HK pointed at the droideka standing in the center of the droid group.
The mechanical soldiers' gazes immediately locked onto it.
The Destroyer, as if surprised by the attention to its person, spun around in place, confused.
"Good-naturedly: This is for you," HK extended the bundle, but immediately corrected himself. "Awkward mumbling: Oh, sorry, I forgot about your constructive feature."
The droideka strained its meager computational power to understand what feature was being referred to.
"Request: Please pass this bundle to our armless comrade," the assassin droid asked in a caring voice, addressing the nearest B-1.
The mentioned "armless droid" lowered its gaze to the rapid-fire blasters that replaced its manipulators. Until this moment, it had not thought about this feature. Now, it suddenly realized that it was deficient.
The B-1 obediently took the bundle and carried it to the droideka.
HK took a couple of steps back.
"Politely: Hey, you," he called out to another B-1.
"Me?"
"Clarification: Yes, you. Take three steps to the left."
The droid obediently moved.
"Why should I have moved?" the B-1 realized too late.
"Explanation: You were out of range," HK replied affectionately, taking out a detonator.
"What?!"
"Mockingly: Bye-bye, buckets of bolts!"
The carefully deactivated audio sensors calmly withstood the acoustic shock from the detonated munition, but the shockwave forced the assassin droid to recoil and take a few steps back to maintain its balance.
"Conclusion: Foolishness has no place on the battlefield," HK said, checking all systems and ensuring there were no damages.
Behind him, guardsmen began to filter into the corridor, accompanying almost every step with a colorful and expletive-laden commentary on the scene unfolding.
"Suggestion: Shall we move on? The Master should meet us in the throne room."
The droid's voice brought the Queen back to reality, who was mesmerizedly examining a tapestry with the portrait of the previous monarch burning amidst scorched walls.
"What? Yes... Yes, of course. Let's go," Padmé forced out and walked forward.
Panaka moved after her.
"Look, Your Majesty. Look," he grumbled to himself. "War only seems heroic and interesting from afar. In reality, it's just piles of bodies among the wreckage of our homes and rivers of blood in the midst of ashes."
HK followed the receding group of the monarch and her guard and shook his head.
"Contemptuously: Pacifists," he uttered almost inaudibly.
It wasn't long until they met the Master. He would have to explain everything somehow. And the droid couldn't imagine how to explain the unfulfilled order.
Heading off to catch up with the guardsmen, HK sincerely hoped he would never have to be a nanny again.
But something in his logical circuits insisted that this hope would not be fulfilled.