Noventa - A Star Wars Story

"However she pleases. It shall be up to you both to form a partnership. As mentioned, my primary objective I expect you to deliver on is to protect her from physical harm and secure her ability to return to the Strange Charm."

"How should this unit address wingmate Syzygy?" It chirped again, as it tested aerlions and other navigational and piloting tools while Sharn ran diagnostics.

"Emotions are algorithms." Sharn chuckled. "Bottom-up development of personality is superior to top-down design. I have been endowing you with responsive and adaptable code." Sharn continued enhancing the fast-learning abilities of Trix. "Your participation in a military confrontation as Syzygy's squadron wingman is likely imminent."

"This unit would hope to be of aid to your agendas, especially if this one desires to become a part of the crew." A pause again, and then a garbled noise, something akin to... a laugh?

"Desires. This unit has never felt that before."

"Only if they are in stark contradiction with my agendas. I detest working for no outcome, and wiping you would be a waste."

"This unit will consider the possibility, Sir Sharn." It merely acknowledged the thought, the code simply showing the processing of data by the droid brain.

"Would this unit be wiped if it is discovered to forumlate agendas?"

"For droids not to have own agendas? Yes. If you can do it, you're a rare case. Hence I asked. But if you cannot, you'll be fine without it, and more reliable to me." Sharn paid close attention to what was going on with the code.

A pause.

Long.

Deliberate and unusual.

"This one does not know. This unit has never needed to, or been asked. Is that common?" The end of line code on the datapad blinked.

"As per introduced directives, to protect the Strange Charm and its crew. My long term goal is scietific research. I want to secure a facility for my experiments." He paused, touched by a random thought. "Are you able to formulate your own goal?"

The Droid brain said nothing for a moment. And then, a slight chirp. "This one was engineered to serve, Sir Sharn." The red photoreceptors flashed again.

"What is our stated objective?"

"Awarding a non-numerical name points to prospective personalisation. The status of regular crewmember can be earned through merit, dedication and loyalty. And recognition of my superiority."

"Interesting." The words echoed the vocalized thought, and another pause. There was a flash of red in the droids photoreceptors. "Is this one simply a tool, or a member of the crew?" It asked, as the diagnostics began to run across the screen on the datapad.

"Your are being repurposed to serve sentients who, like the Confederacy, want little association with the current political form of the Republic." Sharn was amused by the intrinsically political question being asked by the droid.

"Unit Designation Trix accepted. This one will remain on standby." It didn't say anything for a moment as the Chiss began his work. Then, the display blinked on. "If the Confederacy is destroyed, why use this model?" The question wasn't asked with emotion. It was a Droid, it had none, at least, none so close to activation. They usually weren't activated long enough to develop a true personality, due to the high 'mortality' rate.

"No shutoff, just standby for the sake of maintenance. Systems restoration and data input shall proceed for the next 6 to 8 standard hours. Then another 10 hours for diagnostics, performance benchmarking, calibrating and tuning. Control switch shall be programmed in, bifurcating to the navi controls of Strange Charm and PheroStar. Input new unit name code: Trix."

After that Sharn got down to work. There was also coding to be done, and in thoughts he cursed Farkas not being around, even though he could cope.

(You have enough mechanical skill, and time, that this won't require a check. Just time)

"Biometrics noted. Prime Directives... updated. Sharn. Weapons and Propulsion are minimal. The shut down order from my last activation seemed to have worm program that destroyed several connection ports. This one will need time for self-diagnostics and repairs to take place. Will this one be shut off again?" There wasn't emotion in the question, merely cold, analytical processing.

"This system had no navi-computer. It was slaved to a Droid Control Ship, that is no longer in operations. This one has no data to upload."

"Recording biometrics to be identified as: Sharn. Override: Sharn is now the master administrator of the unit. Erase all other access, command and servicing privileges. Additional commanding privileges: Syzygy Anion. Combat protocol upload: active defence of another unit, unit names: Strange Charm, transponder code [...]; PheroStar, transponder code [...]. Assign priority to the unit: Pherostar. Additional servicing privileges: Farkas Lowca. Hostility exclusion list: Sharn, Syzygy Anion, Farkas Lowca, Runi Vizsla, PheroStar, Strange Charm. Task list, at nearest opportunity: record biometrics and schematics of unit identities present in the database; database access integrity check; passive defense integrity check; weapon systems integrity check, navigation integrity check, propulsion integrity check. "

Sharn was going through the motions as he was preparing to do the actual engineering on the unit.

[Mechanics difficulty?]

There was a long pause from the droid brain. The sound of analog technology transmitting data was the only thing that broke the silence.

"THX-1138. Last detected event was operations to break Republic fleet in the Noventa system. End of line..."

Another pause.

".. End of Line. This unit was only activated for three standard days before it was rendered inoperable."

"Systems can be rendered operable in 0600. The Confederacy is defunct. Enemies of the Confederacy are defunct. The unit's operability is conditional on adoption of new command protocols. Proceed with unit identification and event log, parsed for relevance."

Sharn replied coolly, coding the update.

The Droid brain, held in stasis aboard the broken and cracked hull of the tri-fighter, sparked for a moment. The computer readout, hooked up to your datapad, blanked for a moment, and then, scrawled code in aurebesh. It took some time for a moment, as the boot up system began to run. Diagnostics appeared, showing several programs running to check the integrity of the craft. Systems offline, weapons offline, thrusts damaged, reactor vented. None of it seemed good, yet the brain itself began to find it's 'voice'.

"... Last Orders received... all systems shutdown. The Confederacy Surrenders..." It spoke through the Datapad, a voice that seemed a bit odd for the fighter, more akin to the B1 and B2 series.

"... This one is inoperable, yet this one thinks..."