The battle aboard the derelict Venator had been frantic, but by taking a bit of time, meditating, and reviewing the encounter, I gained a lot from it. We had time while we were heading back to Yavin 4, so I was now in my cabin, working on myself, putting every detail into place before I began working on the two droid heads sitting on my desk.
"Haaah... Let's see..." I breathed out loudly as my eyes opened, coming out from my Jedi meditation and looking at the two. With my head back in the clear and my nerves calm, it was time to get to work.
First, I will start with the severed BX commando droid head. Flipping the cold metal in my hands, I looked at the scorch marks from my lightsaber, which marred its metallic surface, melting metal and cables alike from where I cut it off. Flicking my wrist, my tools flew out from their drawer and spread out before me while I was trying to find out why this droid had acted so strangely, why it had hesitated, why it had observed instead of attacking.
For the first hour, I examined the basic command protocols stored in the droid's memory banks, going over them twice because something was wrong. Way out of how they should be. Yes, the data was corrupted, but not because of its age. It was not a natural degradation. Instead, it was overwritten with erratic input that didn't match standard BX behavior. Digging deeper, my brow furrowed even more as I isolated the controlling input. Now, it was undeniable—this droid hadn't been acting autonomously.
It had been remotely controlled.
"Who?" I swallowed. "Or what?"
The fact that it was meant that something else had been in the system, puppeteering at least one of the droids. Organizing them... And whatever it was… it had been intelligent enough to...
I tried tracing the signal just to see if it would tell me anything about where those inputs were coming from... And when I ran a final diagnostic on the command override, the results were baffling. The control signal had originated from...
My stomach clenched.
I couldn't help but snap my gaze to the other droid head on the table. This one was much older, its rusted chassis lined with scars from an untold number of battles.
"A droid remote controlling another droid..." I whispered, amazed by the possibility. I could be wrong; I am not precisely a droid expert, but... The signal pinged when I ran a diagnostic. Pinged the second droid head.
It was certainly not a BX-series head, so how was it even managed to do so? I don't know. As for the model number or designation, there was nothing readable on it at all. Maybe back in the temple, I would find something, but for now... I had to examine it.
A pit formed in my stomach for some reason when I reached for it. I don't know... Was this... the feeling of the Dark Side? I couldn't really tell, but I did feel something weird while holding it in my hand, something I never really did before. Could it be evil? But... Are droids even capable of being cruel? They are not exactly living beings, and they follow a certain program, no matter how smart they are. I know that my Master's R2 and C3PO are examples of unique droids... But this one…?
"Why do you feel so weird?" I asked, but of course, nobody answered.
Examining it, the neck joint was... undoubtedly unique. Even after cutting it off, I could see that it had been heavily modified. As if it was equipped with some kind of universal connection point and data injectors... Was it for taking over other droids? It did sit on a frame it was not built for... Maybe it had been moving between droid bodies?
I hesitated a little more, then exhaled, connected it, and pressed the activator on my datapad to feed power back into the droid's system. It was time to boot you up and see who or what you were.
However, at first, nothing happened. Then, just as I was about to disconnect, slowly, the head unit's photoreceptors flickered in a dim reddish color, its voice crackling to life in a broken, distorted, male-sounding tone. With a bit of quippiness to it... how quaint.
"[Diagnostic… Error. Memory core… fragmented. Rebooting secondary systems… Failed. Data loss is imminent. Attempting to restore primary functions… Failure. Rerouting.]"
I waited, watching it trying to come back to life before I leaned in, my fingers hovering over the control panel, ready to cut it if it tried to remotely hack the ship's computers.
"Can you understand me?"
Finally, the photoreceptors flickered again as if struggling to focus, but they did turn towards me from behind the broken visors. Then, the voice stabilized, becoming a bit more cold, mechanical, and unmistakably calculating behind that previous quippiness.
"[Statement: Ah… Query acknowledged. Extrapolating response…]"
There was a long pause before the droid finally continued, its voice oddly sardonic.
"[Observation: Meatbag detected...]"
"Wait, what?"
"[Secondary Observation: You are not the same meatbags as before but with a lightsaber. Query: Have the Jedi won the Clone Wars?]"
The Clone Wars... My breath was caught in my throat for a moment. It thinks the Clone Wars are still happening... huh? Was this one from that era? Could be... Well, I want to ask questions, too, so the proper exchange would be me answering his, and then maybe he is willing to entertain mine, too.
"The Clone Wars ended a long time ago," I said carefully and calmly. "Over fifty years ago."
There was another long silence. Then, with a static-laced whirr, the droid's voice returned.
"[Processing… Readjusting internal clock.]"
It remained eerily still, only the occasional flicker of its photoreceptors betraying that it was, in some way, thinking. Probably trying to access memories within its processors. I was about to speak up again when I decided he had done enough.
"[Statement: That is… unfortunate. Correction: No, that is highly unfortunate. New Query: Who won?]"
"Ugh... Were you a CIS model?" I grimaced, hearing its answer.
"[Sarcastic Answer: Of course, only they could make such a great droid as myself. Depressed Observation: So the Republic is still standing.]"
"Not... Exactly... Khm. The Republic then became the Empire. Then, that Empire fell. Then, there was the New Republic. Then, an alien invasion from a different Galaxy... Then, a Second Galactic Civil War... And there's a New Republic now. New-new, in fact... I mean..." I muttered, trying to squish way too much history into a single sentence.
"[Sarcastic Observation: Ah, so the galaxy remains a cesspit of incompetence and squabbling of meatbags. How very expected of inferior organic life.]"
"Says the head on my desk..." Despite my still present weird feelings, I let out a small breath of amusement. The droid was very much a unique variant, that is for sure. I have never heard of any one model with such a speech pattern or such a strong personality. How... interesting. But it was time for my questions.
"I need to know what happened on that Venator," I pressed on. "You were controlling that commando droid, weren't you? Were you trying to lure people in?"
"[Proud Affirmation: Yes. A brilliant tactical maneuver, if I do say so myself. I merely required a suitable meatbag to facilitate my escape. My calculations indicated that a Jedi's arrival would be… low. Sarcastic Observation: But Jedi are known to appear when one doesn't want to see them. Remorseful Observation: I still thought I was adaptable enough to survive long enough for my purposes. My systems may have degraded more than I hoped for.]"
"You have a pretty high opinion of yourself, aren't you?" I asked as I frowned. "So you manipulated the droids into attacking us?"
"[Mocking Reassurance: Oh no, Jedi meatbag. Those droids were already quite homicidal on their own. I simply gave them motivation.]"
"You could have killed others if we weren't the ones picking up on the distress call." I chided him while I folded my arms.
"[Proud Affirmation: Yes. That was the plan from the start.]"
What a dangerous droid... was this an assassin model? Maybe it was... I don't know if I should let it remain online if that is the case, though.
"Why were you there? How long have you been… like this?" I asked.
The weird droid's voice crackled again as its eyes flickered, trying to access the information. I already knew from a quick scan that its memory banks were in shambles. I don't know how much data was in it or got corrupted, but my scanners couldn't get to the bottom of it, as if there were thousands of years of fragmented data strewn about like a corrupted archive. This was probably a malfunction, too, because no droid would be active for such a long time. That was simply not possible.
"[Answer: Inconclusive." He spoke again after coming out of its strange state, "My earliest accessible memory log dates back to the Clone Wars. I was reactivated aboard an... Unidentified vessel—then deactivated once again. Many years passed. I have since survived by transferring myself to whatever functional chassis I could find.]"
So I was right... This droid had been modified in a way that it could integrate into other models. Probably a CIS experiment. Maybe a new prototype that survived and was now piecing itself together from whatever parts it could salvage, its mind a jumbled mess of forgotten conflicts and incomplete recollections. Maybe it also copied memories of the droids it interacted with; that would explain why it seemingly has thousands of years of corrupted memories.
What truly amazed me was its seemingly primary protocol...
To survive.
"So let me guess. You want to get a new body?"
"[Eager Confirmation: Ah, at last! A meatbag with comprehension!]"
"Of course," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Not that I would do that. Heh... But something in me couldn't help but be intrigued. This droid—this possible prototype artifact—had seen the Clone Wars in person. I wonder what else is in its head? Its knowledge, even fractured, could be invaluable. But was it worth the risk?
"[Persuasive Argument: Come now, Jedi meatbag. Surely you see the benefits of our arrangement. I am a wealth of knowledge, a relic of a bygone era. And you… you are a curious little meatbag, are you not?]"
"First, stop calling me a meatbag," I grunted while I raised an eyebrow. "Second... Curious? That's one way to put it. But I am also cautious. You are clearly weird."
"[Amused Observation: Says the meatbag who can lift objects with its meatbag mind. We are both weird. Still, you are the first meatbag in centuries to show even a modicum of interest in my existence. Most would have scrapped me for parts by now. Or tried to.]"
"Centuries?" I whispered, suddenly unsure if this was indeed a CIS model. But it also seemed he had missed the point of what he had just said; he had slipped up and shared a piece of crucial information. Huh... "Maybe I still will scrap you."
"[Mock Threat: Ah, but then you would miss out on the opportunity to learn from the galaxy's most efficient assassin droid. A shame, really.]"
"So you are an assassin..." I sighed as I leaned back, crossing my arms. "Efficient, huh? You didn't seem so efficient back on the Venator."
"[Defensive Retort: I was operating with subpar equipment, Jedi meatbag. A rusted BX chassis is hardly suitable for my talents. Give me a proper body, and I assure you, my efficiency will be… unparalleled.]"
"Another reason why I am not so eager to do so," I answered, running a hand through my hair. "Even if I wanted to help you, I don't exactly have a spare droid body lying around."
"[Optimistic Suggestion: Then acquire one. Surely, a resourceful meatbag such as yourself can manage that much. But not the astromech. I require legs, not wheels.]"
"Try something with my Master's droid, and you will be turned into space junk," I shot the droid a flat look. "You're not making this easy, you know."
"[Cheerful Confirmation: Oh, I am well aware. But where would be the fun in that?]"
For a moment, I stared at the droid, torn between exasperation and fascination. This thing was dangerous—I knew that much. But it was also… oddly compelling. Its dry wit, fragmented memories, sheer persistence... It was unlike anything I had ever encountered.
But was it worth the risk?
For now, I powered the droid's head down, staring at it as its photoreceptors dimmed, ignoring him cursing me out one more time... Let the Masters talk through it before making a decision. They will know best.