[@Reflection]

Standing in the Sith Lord's shadow, Khyrr found it harder to breathe than he had before. This was probably pretty normal for someone under the scrutiny of the most feared and second-most powerful man in the Galactic Empire, but it was still pretty unnerving. His focus was solely on the figure standing before him, offering Khyrr his own life in exchange for those of countless men and women fighting simply for freedom. He barely even flinched at the chorus of blasterfire, his heart too loud in his ears. It came down to a simply choice: Die here, accomplishing nothing or Live on, a durasteel leash around his neck as Vader's secret Attack dog. A singular, metallic voice whispered in his ear, breaking his stupor.

[color=gray]"Directive: This unit is directed to ensure the survival of its direct superior at all costs, no matter what actions it must undertake to do so. Suggestion: Take the deal, Sir. I can calculate a 1 to 98 trillion chance of survival otherwise."[/color]

His head turned sharply to HK before he closed his eyes and gave a small nod. A silent string of unspoken curses in his head, Khyrr turned back to Vader just as he began to count down, cutting in just before his count ran out. He forced down the feeling of suffocating despair he could feel encroaching as the words began to fall from his mouth and Ignored the looks of rage, sorrow and betrayal from the rebels around him. As tall-dark-and-scary had said, he wasn't fighting for an ideal, he was fighting for a paycheck, a means to survive. And saying no to the man holding you at gunpoint was certainly not a decision would likely survive.

[color=firebrick]"Fine, I'll do it. Not like I'll walk away alive if I don't. Just don't expect any of that 'Lord Vader' crap, and I'll need my ship repaired. Anything else'll be shot down the moment I enter a rebel system."[/color]