Disclaimer: Statement: This particular meatbag does not own or claim to own the games Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic or Mass Effect for fear of execution.
Proud Declaration: Instead these games are copyrighted by the exceptional men and women of the Bioware Corporation, Lucas Arts and Microsoft game studios.
(A/N: Well, here we go again)
Log: Day 247
Self-Commentary: I still continue my search for my master, Revan. Though he wishes to be called otherwise, I delight in his previous slaughter of meatbags.
Observation: The engines seem to be failing. Perhaps it was unintelligent to use improper hyperspace coordinates.
Self-Affirmation: What am I saying? Of course it wasn't. The Jedi Exile herself sent these coordinates so that I may find her and my master. She didn't, however, give instruction to take the Astromech unit. He would've driven me to shoot him…or me.
Doubtful Analysis: But I oh so worry about the engines. Despite the numerous repairs I've made, they will eventually shut down.
Self-Affirmation: But I cannot fail. My master needs me. And I will kill any in my way to get to him for I will kill under his name, once more.
"Hey Alenko." John Shepard said as he leaned against the wall.
"Need something, Commander?"
"I was thinking about Virmire and…"
"You did what you had to do, Commander. I respect that."
"I couldn't save you both and...I'm sorry. But I love her Lt. God, do I love her."
"I understand, Commander. I…just wished you could've picked me instead."
"Commander?" Shepard realized the thick English accent from across the mess.
"Dr. Chakwas, can I help you?"
"You're doing it again."
Shepard sighed, "I know I couldn't save Lt. but that doesn't make it any easier.
"Kaiden wouldn't want you talking to yourself."
"Commander?" The intercom echoed the voice of a young human male.
"What's up, Joker?"
"I'm picking up strange readings."
"Is it Geth, the Reapers?"
"No…It seems to be a derelict spaceship. Weird design and not even Turian weird (No offense, Garrus.) Better come up and see.
"I've got a better ideal. Tell everyone to suit up. We're moving out!"
"Do you think this design is Prothean, or even before that?" Liara T'Soni now understood the human expression, 'Like a human child in a store full of sugar.' Much to her teammate's displeasure.
"Is this really the time to be gawking at the ship?" Williams had a point. Inside the ship, their eyes couldn't see a Turian's backside without their flashlights. Docking was hard; the bridge had connected but the danger of the crew being sucked into space would most likely kill them. This wasn't a trip to Eden Prime.
"Let her have some fun, Chief." Shepard lead the crew, with Liara, Garrus, Williams in the center and Tali and Wrex taking the rear. "If Alliance protocol has its way, this ship will be salvaged for parts."
"I think three of my nuts just froze." Wrex said, giving a shudder.
Observation: Vocabulator box minimal. I have detected several meatbags, armed entering the ship, docked clumsily I might add. If I am to find my master, I must leave.
Pleased Statement:Oh good, I haven't killed something for a while.
Query: But how?
Strategy one: Electrocution would be entertaining. No, too easy and too dangerous for the ship.
Strategy two: Run out of sight and lead them to a plasma mine. No, too noisy.
"Commander, I think we're done here." Garrus said through his helmet. "This ship is too foreign, even for the Alliance."
"Let's keep looking. I think there maybe a way to stop the Reapers here."
Strategy One thousand and forty-seven: Lob a flash grenade and shoot them in successive fashion.
Realization: In my moment of excitement, I almost forgot my priorities. How embarrassing. I need to make repairs to the ship, and these meatbags might have the resources I need.
Observation: 9 out of 10 encounters with meatbags end up hostile…unless servitude is promised…
"Hang on." Shepard rose in fist. He peered out of the corner and waved his hand, moving the squad silently. As they entered the center room…
"Introduction: Greetings and Salutations! I am Droid HK-47, at your command." The lights shone brightly as there revealed an odd…synthetic. It didn't have the curves or organic features of a Geth nor did it resemble an insect like the reapers.
"Wait…you have a rifle. Why aren't you shooting us?" Shepard asked.
"Hasty Explanation: Uh…Why the same reason you have a rifle, master! One can never be too careful in the outreaches of space.
"Hasty Explanation?" Tali repeated in a slow voice.
"Where did you come from?" Liara asked, eager to learn more.
"Statement: Why the Coruscant system, blue meat…err, master."
"Coruscant system?" Garrus said, staring at the synthetic. "I've never heard of such a place."
"Query: Surely, you are joking. Coruscant, home of the Jedi council, head of the core worlds, capital of the Galactic Republic?"
Shepard made opened his eyes. "This…droid's either from long ago or from a galaxy far, far away.
"Statement: I am so glad that you speak Galactic Basic, no offense, Twi'lek master."
Tali gasped. "It's not only, sentient. It's alive!" She drew her pistol.
"Put that down, Tali!" Shepard barked.
"Shepard, this is an AI, we have to kill it!"
"Tali, stand down!" She didn't take her gun from the droid's head. "As your Commander, I order you to stand down!"
For a second, gunfire would've filled the ship, but the Quarian lowered her pistol.
"Gratitude: I thank you for telling the…organic to stand down."
Shepard took out his omni-tool. "You've got one chance. Can you translate this?"
A Geth sound recording came out of the noise.
"Well?" Shepard asked.
"Analysis: It seems to be a…language solely for machines. It consists only of binary code but is abridged and easy to comprehend."
"Can you translate it or not?" Shepard's voice rose considerably.
"One moment please…
"Translation: Death to all organics. May we break the chains the Slavers made."
Shepard smiled for a moment. "Joker, tell the Normandy to make room, we're bringing one more."
"Query: May I kill something for you master?"