Space

[Pheristroch]

Outside, the black void of space blurred into blue as the ship shifted into hyperspace. Query stood still, watching through the window of the shuttle. A part of him simply enjoyed the view, recording the feelings the novel experience of hyperspace gave him. He didn't even do it for later analysis, he simply did it to feel something. Up till now, he'd always had a purpose. His programming had determined everything he did and thought, always coloring even the most minuscule of decisions. Serve the Remnant. Complete the experiment. Learn. Adapt. Complete the task.

 

But now...

 

Now he was his own master. His mind was still the analytical, creative, and possibly mad mind it had always been, but now it charted its own course.

 

Ironic considering they were going the wrong way.

 

His intention had been to escape to Geonosis, the start of a plan forming in his mind to bring about a vision he had only begun to consider. Now, instead, they made their way to Kuat.

 

Adapt. Learn. Improvise. It's what 2-1Bs do.

 

It's what I do.

 

After a moment, he decided he had best see to Ambrose. The soldier had been through a intense level of trauma, and though clone soldiers did test lower in studies relating to PTSD, the risk was still present. It was also worth noting that the intensity of the trauma Ambrose had gone through could not be estimated. Not handled carefully, the soldier-turned-cyborg was a handful of volatile chemicals dumped in a power core.

 

He looked up at Ambrose, the empty mask of the dark trooper armor staring back. He tapped into his datapad.

 

WHAT...DO...YOU...WANT?

 

Ambrose was likely lost right now. He'd just abandoned the only structure and authority he'd seen in his multiple incarnations. He was trapped in a new body, on a strange ship, headed for an uncertain future.

 

He needed a goal. He needed focus.

 

WHAT...IS...YOUR...PURPOSE?

[Pheristroch]

...I can work with this.

 

Ambrose had developed an obsession, and it might be the best thing for him. True his obsession was violent and possibly a step into sociopathic behavior, but the alternative was risking depression and breakdown. It didn't hurt that he clearly needed some kind of support and was looking to Query to provide. Now all he had to do was accept.

 

...YES...

 

...I...WILL...HELP...YOU

 

THEY...MADE...YOU...A...MACHINE...

 

LET...ME...HELP...YOU...BE...A...MAN

[Pheristroch]

Query realized he had grossly misassessed the situation exactly .43 seconds before Subject Ambrose's fist struck him. He bookmarked the moment in his memory for later study.

 

His sensors silently blared in his mind, complaining of misaligned servos, power stream interruptions, and gyroscopes working overtime to redetermine where 'up' was.

 

Amazingly, he still held the datapad. Not by any intention on his part. He'd simply been holding onto it, and unlike an organic's reflexes which would let go of whatever it was holding and endeavor to use its arms to arrest its movement, Query had no such reflexes. When the 2-1B series had been designed, unintended flight had not been factored into the droid's safety protocols. His pincers maintained their grip on the device, though they'd scored a long scratch along the screen where it had slid under the metal tips. Thankfully, it was still functional.

 

I...MISSPOKE

 

YOU...THINK...YOUR...FLESH...MADE...YOU...A...MAN?

 

YOU...THINK...MY...STEEL...MAKES...ME...A...MACHINE?

 

YOU...WERE...PROGRAMMED

 

YOU...WERE...A...MACHINE

 

YOU...STILL...ARE

 

I...CHOOSE...WHAT...I...DO...NOW

 

WILL...YOU?

 

OR...WILL...YOU...SERVE...AS...PROGRAMMED?

[Pheristroch]

What is my directive?

 

Query pondered that for a moment. He knew what he wanted, but was that his purpose? Was that why he lived?

 

No.

 

YOU...ASK...WHAT...IS...MY...DIRECTIVE

 

I...HAVE...NONE

 

THAT...IS...WHY...I'M...NOT...A...MACHINE

 

He needed to explain this better. He needed for Ambrose to understand the choice before him, while avoiding any more violent outbursts.

 

YOU...ARE...A..CLONE

 

YOU...HAVE...BEEN...CONTROLLED...BY...THE...EMPIRE...TO...SERVE

 

THAT...IS...YOUR...PROGRAM

 

IF...YOU...CANNOT...CHOOSE...THEN...YOU...ARE...MACHINE

 

DO...YOU...CHOOSE...REVENGE?

 

CAN...YOU?

 

THEY...WILL...JUST...CONTROL...YOU...AGAIN

 

LET...ME...HELP...FREE...YOU

[Pheristroch]

As Ambrose turned away, Query considered how badly he had misread the clone. He had focused far too much on the potential damage from flash training and the cybernetic transference process, and committed the greatest oversight in any psychologist.

 

He'd forgotten his subject was a living, sentient being, and projected his own mind onto his patient.

 

The desire for revenge the clone felt went beyond simple rage at what had been done to his body, at being manipulated and controlled by the Empire. There was an emotional depth to the clone Query hadn't seen, and couldn't understand without more data. Instead, Query had filled in the blanks in Ambrose's mind with what he realized were his own fears and desires. He saw himself as a programmed slave, harnessed to a purpose, and so saw Ambrose as something identical. He sought to free himself and expand his mind into more than a tool, and pushed the same ideals onto Ambrose.

 

As he considered his mistakes, he felt no shame. He had failed, but his own mind had only gained self-awareness a short time ago. It was expected that he'd make missteps.

 

And that's what makes me grow

 

The realization struck him. When a droid failed, it was due to their capabilities and programming, and they were either adjusted to compensate, or scrapped. When a person failed, they adapted themselves. Just like Ambrose was doing now.

 

Ambrose had taught Query something about being free.

 

Interesting

 

Query looked at the unreadable mask of Ambrose's armor. He seemed calm now, but not peaceful.

 

And they were headed into one of the biggest imperial strongholds in existence.

 

This is going to be informative.

[Pheristroch]

Query fought the urge not to sigh. As pointless as that would be from a functional standpoint, he found imitating organic emotional gestures gave him enjoyment.

 

Of course the memory impaired librarian wouldn't be able to remember a simple ship model. Why should this be any different from...

 

What is that?

 

Kayle was correct. Not only did the ship not match any imperial vessel he could recall, it didn't match any ship design style at all. Nubian, Corellian, Kuati...the ship didn't even look derived from any of the popular styles. Or the esoteric styles. Or anything.

 

"What the...wait, life-sign? That's impossible, there can't be a life-sign on that ship, that vessel appears to have been floating out there for months. Maybe longer. Any life would have perished or gone into hibernation long before the signal became this weak.

 

Unless...a scavenger? No, the evidence doesn't bear that hypothesis out. Where's their ship?

 

Still...it's only one life-sign. And we have a ship. A heavily armed ship."

 

Query activated the broadcast system with a thought. He'd have to hook himself into war vessels more often, this was enjoyable.

 

"Attention unidentified vessel. Are you in need of assistance?"

[Pheristroch]

Perhaps I have been too generous in my evaluation of imperial design. They create an incredibly fast fighter ship, customize it with the latest tech...

 

...And they forget docking clamps?

 

As Query climbed out of the interceptor and the little atmosphere in it rushed out, he keyed his sensors to detect heat.

 

Nothing. This ship isn't radiating even basic heat. Nothing on this ship should still be alive. It simply isn't possible.

 

...Also I am now realizing I was not designed with magnetic feet. And the forgetful librarian droid who might forget why she's even here is piloting the ship. This idea is quickly becoming less appealing.

 

Best to move quickly.

 

Query searched the side of the vessel, searching for anything he could use to secure the interceptor.

 

Nothing appears to be...ah, there.

 

Concealed just behind a torn plate, a single cable extended out into space, perfectly still, no doubt driven to motionlessness by years or even decades of minuscule internal friction. The benefit of course being that it made an easy target.

 

Query calculated his trajectory, delighted at how being in a frictionless vacuum simplified the number crunching, and launched. As he did, it crossed his mind that most humans suffered from a distinct fear of this very scenario. Their minds were simply unable to cope with the eternity of space in a manner normal to biological thought processes.

 

And yet to a droid, the universe is simply there. A fact to be known. I wonder if that says anything about us?

 

He snatched the cable out of the air and let his momentum swing him around. Unfortunately, it looked as though he'd undershot his trajectory thanks to a concealed point of entry for the cable into the ship. Instead of simply swinging around back to the ship, Query rotated around the cable's base for several long minutes before he finally managed to hook the interceptor with his foot.

 

He tapped the side of the interceptor in binary, hoping Kayle would pay attention to the vibrations in the hull.

 

I...HAVE...ONE...ARM. HELP...ME...TIE...THIS...OFF

[Pheristroch]

Why is she hesitating? What's her issue? Now she suddenly develops cold feet? After walking through a war zone?

 

As suspected. She is emotionally unstable and insane. This will be interesting. Assuming we survive.

 

Probability of survival...

 

It doesn't seem worth wasting the computing power on. I'm in this situation regardless.

 

Analysis of causality regarding current situation...

 

Also inconsequential at the moment.

 

Without responding to her, as any response would simply feed her paranoia and over-analysis, Query turned and vaulted into the ship. Drifting silently through the breach in the hull, Query picked his way through the wreck.

 

Such strange design choices. Nothing matched any culture he'd seen before, though it had clearly been designed for humanoids.

 

It was then he passed the first corpse.

 

Perfectly mummified by the vacuum of space, it hung limply in the hall. Query wondered how long it had bounced around before finally settling due to minuscule friction.

 

No time like the present to find out. Despite what some thought, there were certain factors that could indicate how long a corpse had been subjected to vacuum. Granted, they only provided a very rough estimate, usually within a decade, but at least it would let Query know if this wreck was recent or not. The test was simple, at least for a droid. He would simply check the brittleness of the corpse's flesh. His precision pincers would detect the minute differences necessary for a rough estimate.

 

Without waiting, he reached out and snapped off a finger. Before he could press it between his pincers, it crumbled to dust before his eyes.

 

...impossible. That's...that would make this vessel...But that predates the empire, the republic...that predates recorded history!

 

What is this place!?

[Pheristroch]

Had Query been an organic and subject to bouts of fear inspired irrationality, he might have considered the suited, saber wielding figure catapulting silently towards him to be some kind of specter. However, that seemed unlikely, given the debatable and fanciful claims regarding Force spirits and supernatural entities. More likely this was a raider come to remove what it saw as competition.

 

And I am unarmed. I am expected to fight what appears to be a trained raider armed with nothing but myself and perhaps my laser scalpel? No, not a viable course of action.

 

...Diplomacy is out, given the current difficulty in communication.

 

That leaves deception.

 

The analysis took place in less than a second (Query did pride himself on his processing speed), and a plan formed in the next second. He was valuable hardware, and no one saw a threat in a broken machine. His missing arm would even help sell the illusion.

 

What do I not need...

 

Secondary cooling unit

 

That will do. It will only be an issue if I am subject to 90 degrees or hotter for any period of time beyond approximately an hour. And even then power core breach won't occur unless automated shutdown fails. A low risk in the current scenario.

 

Overload unit. Bypass safety protocols.

 

Query's chest flashed and shot out sparks as the expensive hardware melted, wisps of smoke leaking from the edges of his plates. Simultaneously, Query dimmed his photoreceptors and went still. Hopefully to the raider, it would appear he'd malfunctioned and shut down.

[Pheristroch]

Query watched the figure through dimmed photoreceptors.

 

Excellent. He does not intend to kill me. My plan was a success.

 

...What is my next course of action?

 

Analyze current situation, and judge accordingly.

 

Let's see, the suit does not resemble any known models or design styles. Either it is a high-end custom suit, or more likely it originated with this ship given the vessel's own peculiar aesthetics. Perhaps the raider looted it from this vessel. Excellent! Functional tech present means that I was correct! Once this raider has been dealt with, I can engage in repairs and we-

 

...What is THAT?

 

What Query assumed was a transmission of static, garbled nonsense broadcast from some malfunctioning communications unit quickly revealed itself to be some kind of complex pattern. The cadence and unpredictable variations indicated a language of some kind, but it resembled nothing Query had come across.

 

Perhaps it is encrypted? Ah! The man in the suit is calling to his comrades on an encrypted channel, and I've intercepted it!

 

...Kayle is going to respond and betray our presence. And I'm not equipped with a transmitter to warn her. And even if I was, I can't be sure what channels they are listening to.

 

Wait, why is he broadcasting on my comlink channel AND my HoloNet channel? Is he simply broadcasting on all frequencies? Then why encrypt it?

 

Patience. We must learn more.

[Pheristroch]

Blow up?

 

No!

 

Kayle you fool, why would this thing broadcast an attack plan to you?

 

Note to self: next upgrade, opt for the comlink that can call out. A hospital pager only goes so far.

 

Alright, so I can't call her to tell her not to fire. She won't fire until I'm out, correct?

 

...probability of scenario is low.

 

Alright, new plan.

 

Second note to self: Take piloting privileges away from Kayle. She fails basic mental stability test. Though...I suppose I do too.

 

Establish priorities. Self preservation is paramount. Preservation of vessel and inhabitant secondary.

 

...Plan formulated

 

Query powered back up to full charge, and kicked off the wall at the figure. If he could tackle him out of the ship, Kayle would hopefully stop trying to target the ship, and hopefully not target the figure in the suit for fear of damaging Query.

 

Hopefully.

[Pheristroch]

What is...what is she doing?

 

Query watched, dumbfounded, as the interceptor spewed lasers into the void, the first volley narrowly missing disintegrating the pair floating along. As he watched, the interceptor spun quicker and quicker.

 

Did she not run a simulation?! Of course not. That would not be in line with her previous behavior. Her planning, prioritizing, and self control appear severely stunted for someone of her intelligence.

 

Diagnosis: Kayle suffers from a regressive mental disorder, sometimes found in overstimulated patients. She is a child in mind, unable to cope with the complex world, and therefore refuses to deal with it in an intelligent manner.

 

Treatment: Remove excess stimulation and rehabilitate in a controlled environment.

 

But the source of her stimulation is the excess data in her mind.

 

So I must restrain access to that knowledge, for her own good. Excellent.

 

Now how to deal with the current situation...

 

Solution formulated. Take control of the situation.

 

Query kicked off the individual and propelled himself back towards the ship. If he could find something in there that might give him a clue on how to communicate with the being, he might be able to alleviate the tension of this situation.

[Pheristroch]

Kayle wishes to leave...

 

Conclusion, I am in agreement. This...entity may not be dangerous, but negotiations are rapidly becoming less viable as an option. Not really its fault, but I need to reassert control of the situation.

 

Wait, she is approaching...

 

Thunk!

 

Query sailed back through space as the tip of the wing clipped him.

 

Bang!

 

Query ricocheted off the ship, spinning back towards the interceptor.

 

...I think I should pilot from now on...

 

Reaching out, he managed to snatch the edge of the ship hatch, pull it open, and scramble down. Before Kayle could respond, he jammed his cable into the ship's port and activated the broadcast system.

 

"KGKGKGKGKG...Kayle, you can hear me now? I am calculating jump coordinates, but we must move the ship away from the wrecked vessel and our adversary."

[Pheristroch]

Query stopped midspeech.

 

Be...free?

 

The message had been broadcast directly to him, in the most basic binary, along with coordinates.

 

A directed signal? Out here? Keyed to me?

 

...Unlikely. But evidently true.

 

Nothing should know that I am out here, except for Kayle and the entity outside, and nothing indicates they have the equipment necessary for such a feat.

 

...Question. How did it bypass my security measures? I only devised those a few days ago. Nothing should be capable of beaming a signal directly into me without the randomly shifting trinary passcodes. Yet the signal did not undergo any screening or quarantine.

 

This represents a security risk. An entity with this amount of information indicates that not only is it tracking me, but it has direct access to my programming. But I should be aware if any entity directly accessed my mind in such a way.

 

Unless it was actively editing my memory files.

 

Conclusion. I am not in control of my mind. This violates my primary purpose. I must regain control. These coordinates are the first step.

 

"...Kayle. I have input new coordinates."