| abstract
| - Clicking metallic footsteps echoed off the pristine, white walls of the docking section in the massive, hidden, asteroid vault. Those footsteps emanated from a sleek, silver Protocol droid, his face fixed in a permanent joyful expression, his photoreceptors glowing bright yellow. He passed several bipedal guard drones, standing motionless at their posts. Their heads swiveled slowly, following his every movement. He passed by them, continuing on his way until he came to a floor –to- ceiling, wall-mounted computer. Reaching behind it, he grabbed a switch. Without warning, a well dressed Muun came from around the corner, his face livid with rage. Stop this instant, appliance! You better have a good explanation for your incompetence!” the Muun fumed. “Yes Master Krun. In what way have I displeased you?” the droid replied politely, as he covertly retracted his hand. “You failed to compensate for the increased interest on twelve of our accounts. Do you realize the credits that we’ve lost due to your inexcusable blunders? I also found that you didn’t even fix the com. Explain you’re self, immediately!” “I am humbly sorry, Master. It must have been a glitch in one of my systems. With your kind permission, Sir, I will do a complete diagnostic check at once.” K8 bowed submissively. “See that it doesn’t happen again or I’ll transfer your logic systems to a cleaning bot. Then you can live out the rest of your wretched days scrubbing the vault.” “I will redouble my efforts sir!” “See that you do or I might just shove you out the airlock,” Krun sneered. He glared at the droid suspiciously for a moment before moving on. “Stupid machine.” he muttered. When Krun was safely out of sight, K8 once again reached behind the console, this time turning the switch. There was a slight sound of gears whirring as the computer slid sideways, revealing a small, square room with two rock walls, one of which was inexplicably plastered with graffiti. Multiple scrawls of alien profanity covered its surface, stopping precisely at its edges, as if they were invisible boundaries. A workbench ran along the length of a metal-plated third wall. A small computer perched at its center, along with several intricate tools, and an assortment of machinery parts. Wires of various sizes sprouted from the wall above the bench and from the ceiling. K8’s movements caused them to stir in wild abandon, something that had always seemed to comfort him. In addition, the room contained two, gray; plasteel chairs side-by-side, connecting each other with thick cables. Upon the closest chair sat a guard droid, limp and lifeless. K8 proceeded to hook numerous wires into the drone’s exposed head. K8 moved over to the computer and keyed in an elaborate sequence before returning to the drone. He methodically rechecked its wiring to confirm that everything was accurate and securely tightened. Satisfied; he fondly stroked the drone’s head and sat down in the other chair. He began to connect wires from the ceiling to himself and took one last look around the room, reviewing all the events that had led up to this moment. He stared at his armrest, its glowing lights beckoning him to pull the lever and put the final phase of his plan into motion. He pulled the lever. The lights in the room imploded drowning out the sound of the consoles, its shattered bulbs showering the floor with debris. When his photo receptors turned on, his vision was new, and everything was different. He moved his hand up to his face and saw the green and gray hand of the guard drone. He tore the wires from his new body. K8 slowly toddled to the computer, uploading stolen security codes which ordered a complete shut down of all the other drones. He pushed a button underneath the console and a small piece of the wall opened, revealing a blaster carbine he had claimed from the body of the same guard droid that he now inhabited. He snatched up his weapon and aimed it towards the door. “IT WORKED!!!!” he bellowed, in his new metallic voice, as he blasted through the metal plated door and through the computer facade, making a crater in the opposite wall. K8 pushed aside the wreckage, which was once his only shield from his tormentors’ eyes. He strode triumphantly through the many, winding corridors. The once pristine walls were now covered in soot and littered with transparasteel, and rubble from the earlier explosions. Scores of inert guard droids sprawled upon the floor, temporarily hindering his way until he finally reached the main control room. It was a large square area filled with wall-to-wall consoles, and there he saw his five Muun abusers, frantically trying to restore the illumination systems. “Drone!” One of the Muun’s yelled, while approaching him, “There may be an intruder in the base, defend us fro-” K8 quickly struck him down to the floor with all the festering hatred he had harbored through seven long years of cruelty. The rest of the Muun stopped their tasks and gaped in surprised horror as K8 coldly stepped on the neck of their fallen associate with a sickening crunch. All stood frozen in terror for a moment. Then one of the Muun raced towards a control panel. Before he could reach it, K8 punched him with the full force of his new, satisfyingly, less-than-docile body, launching his antagonist’s crushed carcass into a console on the opposite wall. Two Muun futilely tried to escape through the door, but were mercilessly cut down by K8’s carbine. K8 turned to face the last of his enemies. Only Krun remained, whimpering in a corner. K8 strode towards him, his clanking feet splattered with blood. “This isn’t supposed to happen,” cried Krun as he held his hands up in a useless attempt to shield himself. “You are a drone. You’re Just a DROID!” “I was never just a droid,” he said, and then speaking in his old protocol droid voice said,“Master Krun.” A stunned look, of what K8 thought was realization flashed on Kruns face as a blaster bolt drilled through his chest. If a droid could smile, K8 was beaming.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)