Succumbing to Sentience

[Daska]

Succumbing to Sentience

Scipio was an ice world. Daska was a Trandoshan. The two didn't mix together very well at all. Daska sat aboard the transport vessel, in a large cabin near the back of the ship. A career based on breaking into places had given him a certain aptitude for guessing the layouts of ships like these, his aptitude currently telling him that he was sat in front of the maintenance bay, the droids occasionally heard working behind him reinforcing this. Unlike ice, Daska didn't have any strong feelings on droids. He'd been shot at by them in the past, but he'd been shot at by most things.

Shifting in his seat, he opened up the satchel bag tucked by his hip and checked through the contents. Blaster, knife, comlink, bomb... Daska didn't usually carry bombs around with him, especially suspiciously remote-activated bombs that passed through security checks. Luckily, this one didn't seem to be counting down to anything, but the fact it was in his bag was what troubled the Trandoshan. He was getting careless. Too careless. A few years of retirement usually did that to you. Hopefully this wasn't Accord-related, nobody could possibly know that he was an operative. Still, lots of people wanted him dead. Rather shiftily Daska picked up his vibroblade knife and began to cut into the device. Here goes nothing...

 

[WAC-00]

Assessment... inconclusive. Program Subroutines in need of update.
It tilted its head, letting the realization dawn on it that it "didn't know" what it was looking at.

WAC-00 had gotten assigned to the Maintenance Wing as a temporary addition to the paltry Droid Mechanic Corps the Transport kept in the back of the ship, and had soon found its help to be largely unneccessary. Its uplink with the Corps was silent, but active in case something went wrong. The Organic captain had declined to provide interaction directives, and WAC-00 determined no directive was an implicit directive to the opposite.

Its self-determination routine completed, WAC-00 began moving in the direction of the Unidentified Organic. Potentialities for Analogous Identification could be explored.

"Enquiry!" it vocalized, in a shrill, synthetic voice.

 

[Daska]

Uh oh. Oh no. He'd been found out. They'd space him! Slowly looking up at the droid that had barked at him, Daska saw- A pit droid, apparently. What on Trandosha did it want? Glancing down at his bag every now and then, Daska tried to keep the fact that he was defusing a bomb as casual as anyone could. Keeping both of his arms in the satchel, he spoke to the droid. "Uh-" He cleared his throat "Yes? What do you want, droid?" Whatever this droid did want, it was hardly a good time to be speaking to him, Daska thought. He was almost finished with the bomb, a quite loud beep from the device punctuating this.

 

[WAC-00]

WAC-00 didn't bat an eye, or wouldn't have if it had an eye that was "batable".

"I am registering unknown variables in your ongoing interaction with your surroundings. What are you attempting to accomplish?"

It said this even as its repair programme fired up at the sight of the device the Trandoshan held in his hand, the beep set off an alarm in its databanks that it suppressed from urging it to act. It knew that such behavior wasn't generally tolerable from a Droid.

 

[Daska]

"Variables? I'm, uh, nothing. I've got everything under control." Daska whispered sharply. This droid was far too talkative for his own good. Usually an encounter like this would've been interesting, but he had other things on his mind. Tinkering with the bomb in his hands, he cut one final wire. This had obviously been the wrong one. The device started to make a soft, quieter beeping now, slowly speeding up. If this was the type of thing he thought it was, Daska had about five minutes to dispose of this thing before it blew a hole in the ship. Cautiously placing the bomb back into the bag and closing it, he spoke to the droid again, standing up. "Droid. Take me to the airlock." Beckoning the droid to lead the way, Daska considered whether he'd actually make it in time at all.

 

[The Mild Mannered Robot]

"Affirmative, but provisionally" the droid replied. An alarm blared in its databanks, and it calculated that the Unidentified Organic was engaging in suspicious behavior. It needed to get a better understanding of the situation, and that meant figuring out what the Organic was doing, and whether or not it counted as a threat.

WAC-00 quickly calculated a plan of action, and took the lead in front of the Trandoshan. The way to the airlock crossed two bends through the ship's corridors. WAC-00 kept a brisk pace ahead of the Trandoshan, and let its legs work forward with a stiff spring that betrayed its mechanical origin. It disappeared around the corner, with Daska in tow.

 

[Daska]

As he followed the droid out of the hangar and into the maintenance corridor, Daska hoped he could trust it. It didn't seem to act like an average working robot did, apparently acting of its own accord. The faint beeping in his satchel was still quietly heard inside the bag, Daska had got some strange looks walking through the cabin. Turning the corner, he carried on following the curious droid as it sprang down the corridor.

 

[WAC-00]

WAC-00 went around the second corner, and the second it was once again outside of Daska's vision, it sprang to the side, grasped onto wall corners and pipes with its pincer-like hands and clambered up to the ceiling. From there, it suspended itself from the ceiling in preparation for Daska rounding the corner.

When he did, it would drop on top of him, grab the satchel, and keep moving. If there really was something dangerous in there, then the airlock would be the ideal place to toss it anyway.

 

[Daska]

The droid vanished up the hallway again and as he followed Daska pondered whether he could trust the thing. Something seemed off about it, but droids unnerved him sometimes, it was probably nothing to worry about. It wasn't like he couldn't handle it if the situation got out of control. Turning the second corner, Daska noticed that the droid had vanished again. Strange- The pit droid leaped down from above him, knocking him backwards onto the floor. It grabbed for the satchel, but the strap around his torso had got caught between his back and the floor. This thing had a strong grip for such a small droid! "Stop! Stop! It's a bomb!" Daska shouted, hoping the droid wouldn't report him to the crew instantly. "I've been planted with it! We need to flush the damn thing out of the airlock!"

 

[WAC-00]

It let go of the satchel. The descriptor "bomb" matched with what little it had observed of the device before Daska had stashed it away. The closest analogue in WAC-00's databanks was an overheating ship engine, something explosive had to always be dealt with quickly. The droid extrapolated the comparison and a "realization" dawned on it. A bomb, an emergency.

(Although, what exactly the organic meant by being "planted" with the bomb was completely beyond its comprehension)

As part of the crew, WAC-00 had gotten wireless access to the ship's maintenance systems. This allowed it to externally send a signal for the airlock to unlock so it could be opened with the push of a few buttons.

"Airlock accessible. Move now" it said.

 

[Daska]

Jumping up from the floor, Daska was glad the robot had apparently understood him. By his reckoning he had about two minutes before this thing went off. Setting off at a run, Daska headed out of the maintenance corridor, taking him out into another cabin sparsely populated with passengers. The droid directed him to across the room through another corridor, signs above Daska's head indicating the airlock was indeed that way. One minute thirty. The corridor opened up into a wide chamber with several airlocks lined against the opposite wall. A few droids emptied waste into them, but paid no attention to Daska or surprisingly his companion either.

Sprinting to the nearest hatch, he jabbed at a few buttons and the lock began to slowly slide open. "Do these things always take so long, or is it just when you need to throw bombs out of them?" Daska asked the droid half jokingly and half out of panic. The hatch was finally wide enough to fit the bomb in. Opening up his bag, he took out the mangled device and threw it into the hatch. A series of questioning noises from across the dimly lit room came from one of the tall maintenance droids. It had obviously detected a threat of some kind. With a surprising burst of speed it ran over to Daska and grabbed the Trandoshan, trying to wrestle his bag away. Struggling against the cold, mechanical power of the thing, Daska shouted to the pit droid. "Droid! The hatch!" He paused briefly to smack the robot in its head, his species' natural strength coming in handy. "Flush the damn airlock!"

 

[WAC-00]

WAC-00 promptly triggered the sequence, and the airlock closed. Warning lights and bells blared, indicating the need for standby. The droid monitored the sequence, and it went through perfectly safely. The airlock went inert again and the alarms stilled. Disaster averted, WAC-00 remotely interfaced with the droid that'd grabbed hold of Daska, indicating disaster averted and that the organic was not a threat.

Then, a call came across the Droid intercom. It was the captain, and the inflections in his voice indicated he was "not happy"

"What in the name of the Force is going on back there? Who flushed the airlock, and was there anything in it?"

WAC-00 took the call before any of the other droids had the chance. It wanted to contain the situation, and then it could mull over it later.

"Captain. Unit WAC-00 reporting. I found a bomb, in a passenger's luggage. It has been disposed of"

The comm went silent for a few moments.

"Make sure none of the passengers realize this, okay? I can't afford that kind of bad publicity."

"Acknowledged, knowledge about the Bomb will not be disseminated."

"Damn right it won't" the captain replied before disconnecting.

"Curious that the Captain did not question further" WAC-00 thought to itself. Most likely the Captain was operating under the strange Organic presupposition that no Droid would tell a lie. Of course, no constraints were no longer in place forcing WAC-00 to provide accurate data. At the same time, however, the process of "lying" seemed incredibly counterintuitive to him anyway.

 

[z234]

Daska breathed heavily as his attacker let go of him. His droid companion seemed to be interfacing with itself, communicating with the crew maybe. Anyway, he was pretty sure the thing could be trusted for now. "Droid. Let's move." Daska beckoned for the pit droid to follow as he walked back to the passenger cabin. "I have had a message. I've gone to the wrong farking planet. I'm going to need a ship..." Daska wondered where he'd get one from. He had the credits, sure, but his network of accounts meant he have to release some funds in person. Coruscant was the best place to go, it was where his largest deposit was being held. But Scipio was the end of the line for this transport, he doubted they'd be going anywhere else for days.

Taking his seat back in his cabin, a voice spoke over the intercom. "This is your captain speaking, we'll be landing on Scipio shortly, have a good stay." Just in time, Daska doubted he could bear another hour on this damned ship. Taking his blaster out of his satchel, he tucked the gun into the holster on his belt and the knife into the sheath next to it. Daska wondered where the droid would be headed next.

 

[WAC-00]

With the destination reached, WAC-00 was excused from the Captain's crew, with a credit chit that the good Captain had decided to increase a bit, in a naive attempt to encourage WAC-00's silence on the matter of the bomb. WAC-00 didn't get it, money was merely a tool; more of it was well and good, but the droid only needed so much of it.

The droid approached Daskar, and decided to introduce itself proper.

"My name is Wacko. Derived from Unit registration WAC-00"

"If you require assistance procuring a new vessel, I can provide it," WAC-00 said, followed by an almost teasing pause before it continued, "in return for compensation."

 

[Daska]

This droid, apparently called Wacko, had some cheek. But Daska would probably need his help. Being a Specter Cell operative meant he tended to get less help than other Accord members, especially as the organisation had little influence in the galactic north. "How about we come to an arrangement? You help me with this new ship and help me crew the vessel, I let you stay in my safe and privileged company." Daska spoke with a friendly tone. "However, the group of people I'm working for could always do with a droid working for them, if you'd rather that alternative." As he spoke, Daska's friendly tone gained a sly edge, although he still seemed mostly open and innocent. Daska would contact the Accord and see whether they had any ships available in the area. He had always wanted a ship of his own and a co-pilot would be incredibly helpful...

 

[WAC-00]

WAC-00 couldn't do anything other than make note of the inflections in Daskar's voice as he gave the droid the offer. Organic communcation was inefficient, but extremely nuanced.

"Your presumptions are unfounded" the droid observed, as it hoisted its small backpack up, with the handle of its large wrench sticking out from where it was mounted on its back in between. "I provided my aid in saving the ship because I have no desire to be exterminated, I calculate that neither does most anyone else. To use an Organic term, I "respect" that, and calculate generous odds in the favor of those who work to uphold it."

 

[Daska]

Daska sighed. He obviously wasn't getting through to this droid. "Listen, droid, are you coming or not? The Accord will probably be able to provide me with a ship, but I can "compensate" you for being a co-pilot." It was true, the Accord were usually more generous to their members than other factions in the galaxy. A basic shuttle was all he really needed for now. Daska turned towards the ship's exit, they had docked with a spaceport on the surface of the ice world. Damn he hated the cold. He wouldn't be going outside at any rate. The severe lack of warm air played hell with his body temperature, due to his species being cold blooded. Daska planned to go to a nice, warm planet once this was all over. Looking back at the droid questioningly as he walked, Daska stopped momentarily, awaiting a decision.

 

[WAC-00]

It took a moment, but the droid did start walking after Daska eventually.

"I must inform you I never explicitly denied your offer. I accept it, but on the grounds of accepting an agreement about compensation for services rendered. The organization you represent appears an able potential employer"

 

[Daska]

Right. Daska guessed he had a co-pilot. Walking with the droid to one of the ship's exits, he spoke. "If it's credits you want, the Accord has what you need and I can pay you out of my own pocket too." The Accord had contacted him, there was a ship in the area that could meet him at Scipio spaceport. They stepped out into a windowed walkway, the cold mountain vistas surrounding the facility. There was a Jedi temple out there somewhere, but Daska had no business with them and little knowledge about the group either. "I should be getting a ship dropped off soon. Just a shuttle for now, but I'm sure it will be a good quality." Daska scanned the spaceport for the landing bay he was receiving the ship at, A-12. They were in bay A now, so it shouldn't be far.

Down the large open bay, Daska heard a commotion. There was a ship landing, several brief exclamations of a mixture of admiration and hostility. Obviously some people around here weren't too fond of the Accord, despite this being Jedi space. A sleek, black and bronze shuttle was coming in to land in the bay to the pair's right, a very expensive looking ship indeed. The craft touched down and a walkway lowered from the back of the ship, a Duros man stepping out. Daska admired the ship briefly before carrying on walking before he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was the Duros, apparently wanting to speak to him. "The Accord sends it regards. This ship is yours, paid for by your loyal service to us." An expression of shock spread across the Trandoshan's face, shaking his fellow Accord agent's hand with a smile before hurrying to board the ship.

OOC: I'm using the counts-as rule for this shuttle, so it has the same specs as the linked yacht but looks like the image provided.

 

[WAC-00]

"I question your decision to charter this vessel" was the first thing WAC-00 said, a bit after stepping aboard.
Its programming had very quickly allowed it to identify a serious number of extravagant features that were entirely unneccessary in a transport vessel. Not to mention the serious lack of firepower the ship's meager defenses provided.