Revenge of the Jedi/Part 32

B7-Q4 was hard at work for Lady Gasald, cheerfully executing P ROGRAM : B LEND IN —E NEMY SUBROUTINE, when the lone door to the maintenance room opened and Vesta—mission designation Ra'as, navigator aboard the freighter Bright Comet—flung herself inside. She wore her stolen Imperial Navy uniform, but some hair had come loose from her bun, half-covering the cybernetic plate on her temple, and she clutched a hold-out blaster. Her eyes raced over her surroundings, then came back to Bee Seven.

Bee Seven's memory banks contained sufficient observations—of Humans and humanoids in general, and of Vesta in particular—that it took a mere fraction of a second for the droid to identify her expression as uncertainty. A quick analysis calculated a greater-than-ninety-nine-percent chance that Vesta's hesitance stemmed from Bee Seven's exterior coloration. Like all of Lady Gasald's astromech droids, Bee Seven was painted with the Sith Empire's sigil, red on black, as well as the gray-blue of Lady Gasald's own standard. The droid had only found a handful of other astromechs on board of its same model, but in its experience, organics had peculiar trouble telling one droid from another.

Vesta's drawn weapon imparted to Bee Seven the urgency of the situation, and it calculated Vesta would waste time looking for telltale features to identify it, then deciding whether or not to risk asking. So, less than a second after catching her eye with its photoreceptor, Bee Seven gave the usual signal: Beep whistle BOOP beep.

Vesta's expression morphed to one matching Bee Seven's parameters for relief. "Bee Seven! Am I glad to see you!"

Bee Seven gave her a long warning note, then rotated its dome back to the panel it was plugged into. As Vesta looked first out the door, and only then around the room, Bee Seven accessed the room's security system, following the digital chain back to the surveillance post monitoring this part of the Kiss of Death. Once there, it took only 1.8394 seconds to access the recording of the room since Vesta entered, copy it, and repeat it on loop; although protective instinct made Bee Seven run an internal calculation on the utility of looping earlier footage, the odds were overwhelming that Vesta looked as she did because she was being pursued. Deleting her from the room's footage entirely would cause suspicion if the enemy was attentive, and the first principle of P ROGRAM : B LEND IN was DO NOT BE SUSPICIOUS.

Confident the surveillance station would now see only Vesta in position at the door, while an astromech worked at the terminal across the room—and there was no suspicion in that; it was only an astromech, after all, not a security droid—Bee Seven unplugged, socketed its scomp link, and spun to face Vesta. Beep boodle?

"I'm compromised," she said. "I haven't seen Neeric in a couple days; either they have him, or he's dead."

It took Bee Seven's processor less time to calculate the easiest digital pathway into the brig's security feed and inmate roster than Beep bwaarp beep beep took to enunciate, and it had already started to turn when Vesta raised her free hand.

"Bigger priorities, buddy. They'll be on me any minute."

Bee Seven considered this for a full second, but working with Vesta and the team these years had charted new analytical pathways and forged new subroutines unexpected by its manufacturer—pathways including V ESTA=FRIEND, V ESTA=COMRADE, FRIEND=LOYAL , and NOBODY LEFT BEHIND.


 * I F (FRIEND) + (COMRADE) + (DANGER (IF DANGER=MORTAL)) THEN :
 * –P ROTECT
 * –S UPPORT
 * –D O NOT ABANDON
 * –D EACTIVATE P ROGRAM : B LEND IN
 * –D EACTIVATE P ROGRAM : A VOID DANGER
 * –A CTIVATE COMBAT MODE

Running down those reasoning chains, Bee Seven suppressed its self-preservation routines and opened a seldom-used circular hatch on its torso, from which it produced a small blaster barrel.

"No!" Vesta shook her head; another strand of hair fell out. "No, you can't! You're the only one who isn't compromised, it's on you now."

Bee Seven's processor struggled with conflicting programmatic priorities; its Republic Intelligence programs and heuristics did not correspond with the acquired routines it had tentatively dubbed P ROGRAM : P ART OF THE TEAM. The droid gave a low whine that it knew Vesta would process as an expression of unhappiness.

"I know, buddy, but they're all counting on you." Vesta reached into her jacket and pulled out a datacard. "I got it, but I must've tripped some system alarm."

Bee Seven analyzed the electromagnetic radiation comprising visible light that entered its photoreceptor and resolved into an image its memory identified as DATACARD, then coupled the identification with Vesta's words to compute that the datacard carried the upcoming clearance codes for shuttles inbound to the Kiss of Death. Prompted by the assessment—although not by any baseline program its manufacturer or Republic Intelligence ever installed—Bee Seven accessed its memory core and recalled its several failed attempts to slice the central computer from different terminals across the ship and pull that very data.


 * ∵ B EE S EVEN ACCESSED CLEARANCE CODE ROSTER = FALSE ∴ V ESTA ACCESSED DATABANK
 * ∵ V ESTA ACCESSED DATABANK ∴ V ESTA = DISCOVERED
 * ∵ V ESTA = D ISCOVERED ∴ V ESTA = IN DANGER
 * DANGER=MORTAL
 * ∴ V ESTA = IN DANGER (MORTAL) ∵ B EE S EVEN FAILED


 * R UN O PERATION : A SHAMED

Bee Seven retracted its front leg, then tilted forward to point its photoreceptor at the deck while it gave two low-pitched boops and a diminishing whine.

"It is not your fault. I don't care what you calculate," she added just as Bee Seven's processor returned a 62.41% likelihood that it was its fault. "Hey, look at me!"

Bee Seven rotated back up so its photoreceptor pointed at her face; she leaned in until Bee Seven could hardly process anything else. "I messed up on the slice, this is on me. But I can't complete my mission—it's up to you."

BweeeEEEP?

"Did you get the schematics?"

Beep whirr click click beep boodle.

"Well, it's better than nothing. Where'd you get that?"

Chirp chirp wheeeee chirp whistle boodle.

"A…a cleaning droid?" She grinned. "Oh, Bee Seven, you're brilliant. Here, take this."

She slid the datacard into Bee Seven's waiting receptor. "You need to transmit that down to Cynan so he can get it to the Jedi."

Bee Seven recognized that she had not send transmit that down to Mace and accessed its memory banks, but it could not find an instance of Vesta failing to use the proper code name for a team member after a mission began. The droid boooooooped.

"All right, go plug back in and cue the live feed. I've gotta see if I can—"

She cut off, and Bee Seven calculated to a near certainty that it was because of the footsteps its audioreceptors detected from the corridor. Taking her blaster in both hands, she said, "Okay, buddy, move."

Bee Seven understood the plan, but it whined anyway and extended the blaster barrel a little.

"You have to!"

Bee Seven considered, then opened an auxiliary port and extended its shock probe too, running a little arc of electricity between the discharge prongs.

Vesta smiled, but instead of pursuing the normal chain of operations stemming from E MOTIONAL IDENTIFICATION : H APPY, Bee Seven's databanks prompted O PERATION : C ONSOLE TEAMMATE as a consequence of T EAMMATE = S AD . Even as it lowed softly, Vesta leaned down, kissed Bee Seven's hexagonal prism head, and patted him once. "Thanks for everything, Bee Seven. I'm so sorry about this."

She straightened, took a deep breath, and said, with her Republic soldier voice pattern, "Authentication Code 2599. Activate Program: The Mission First."

The instant Bee Seven's audioreceptors processed the input, it activated the deepest, most hardwired imperative of its classified programming, more fundamental than a supercomputer's worth of intelligence and slicing data, mechanical and engineering programs, or even self-preservation. It retracted its blaster and turned away from Vesta at once, rolling back to the console, extending its scomp link, and plugging back in. It took less than a second to pull up the program it had been working on for Lady Gasald, and less than two more to falsify the data records to suggest it had been at work the entire time.


 * O BJECTION : T EAMMATE = IN DANGER (MORTAL)
 * A CTIVATE P ROGRAM : D EFEND TEAMMATE
 * D ENIED : P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = ACTIVE
 * A CTIVATE COMBAT MODE
 * D ENIED : P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = ACTIVE

Bee Seven tried to access the security network to divert Vesta's pursuers, but its programming disabled the command before the console could receive it. So too went its attempts to signal an alert elsewhere in the ship, purge the exterior corridor of atmosphere, or even turn off the lights.


 * D ENIED : P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = ACTIVE

Bee Seven could do nothing but run the calculations with which Imperial Logistics had tasked it until two organics entered, wearing uniforms Bee Seven identified as those of Imperial Fleet Security and carrying blasters. They were accompanied by a humanoid security droid which ducked to make it through the doorway.

P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST prioritized DO NOT BE SUSPICIOUS, so Bee Seven rotated its head back away from the scene and focused on its calculations. No program required it to deactivate its audioreceptors, though, and it audio-mapped the room in less time than it would take a Human to blink. Vesta was backing away, trapped against the far wall.

"Hands up!" one of the IFS troopers barked.

"You can't get away!" the other added.

"Who said I intend to?" Vesta snapped.

Bee Seven perceived the hum, far too low for Human ears, that signified the security droid activating its blaster cannons.


 * A CTIVATE COMBAT MODE
 * D ENIED : P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = ACTIVE

"Failure to surrender creates a 99.9824% probability of termination," the security droid warned.

Bee Seven, which knew Vesta rather better and had substantial data in its memory banks with which to construct a more informed analysis, still came up with no better than 97.2655%. Running a quick simulation, it discovered that timely intervention—deactivating the lights and blasting the security droid as a distraction, and assuming other factors held steady—decreased that probability to 90.0029%.


 * P REPARE TO EXECUTE
 * D ENIED : P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = ACTIVE

Vesta did not sound intimidated. "You promise?"

"Don't—!"

"Free Milagro!"

A quick exchange of blasterfire and it was over. P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST 's B LEND IN imperative registered that even an astromech under such conditions would react, so Bee Seven gave an electronic wail, unplugged, and turned to face the scene. One of the IFS officers was dead, a neat little hole in the center of his forehead. The other clutched his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut with what Bee Seven determined was pain. Vesta lay on her side, her eyes staring at nothing; the single light on her cybernetic plate faded out.


 * R ESPIRATION = F ALSE
 * P ULSE = F ALSE
 * V ESTA = T ERMINATED
 * I F (TEAMMATE = TERMINATED) THEN :
 * A CTIVATE O PERATION : M OURN
 * D ENIED : P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = ACTIVE

"Search her!" the injured organic panted.

The security droid seized Vesta by her collar and lifted her right off the deck, running a scanner over her body. "Scan identifies the following: hold-out blaster, thermal detonator, comlink, datapad."

The droid's pyramidal head swept the room, and its photoreceptors landed on Bee Seven. "14.236% probability the organic concealed information within the astromech droid."

"Oh, leave off, it's just a dumb astro droid," the organic said through gritted teeth. "Kriffing terrorist. How'd she get on board?!"

Ignoring him, the security droid approached Bee Seven and produced a blaster cannon from one palm. "Identify."

Bee Seven rattled off an alphanumeric designation in Binary.

"Identification: ZR437354-T47-66EE4? Accessing security archives."

Bee Seven was one of only a few of its model aboard, but the number had stayed constant, because the real ZR437354-T47-66EE4 lay in a trash compactor somewhere; after Neeric had erased its serial coding and copied it to Bee Seven, and Bee Seven had downloaded its memory banks, they could not exactly let it roam free. Bee Seven had gone about its predecessor's work, even improving a few outdated algorithms; little harm could be done when the Kiss of Death would be destroyed anyway, and proper functionality both smoothed suspicion and opened a convenient pathway into the system to slice some other aspects of code. Of course, if ZR437354-T47-66EE4's decimated shell had been discovered…

The security droid lowered its cannon arm. "Identity confirmed: astromech droid ZR437354-T47-66EE4, communications and remote surveillance specialist."

"I'm thrilled," said the IFS agent. "Now grab that corpse and let's get the hell to the medbay!"

"Request clarification: 'that corpse'."

The IFS agent cursed in a way that primed Bee Seven's C ONDUCT M ATRIX : C ANTINAS AND B ARS for activation with further input, and stormed out. The security droid assessed the scene, then lifted one corpse in each hand and followed.

Bee Seven wanted to leave at once to complete its mission, but DO NOT BE SUSPICIOUS prevented it, assessing that the events in the room would trigger heightened scrutiny. Sure enough, a surveillance remote came by a few minutes later, but it found Bee Seven still hard at work on fixing the communications line. Only when that was done did Bee Seven depart, and then only to return to the droid control room to receive its next assignment.

That was a simple repair to a malfunctioning central server, but it gave Bee Seven a perfect opportunity to activate one of the codes it had slipped into the system days before. Bee Seven calculated a 71.2331% chance it would be assigned to the next repair, and sure enough, when a communications technician logged an error with the ship's outbound comms, Bee Seven was sent out with the work order.

"Yeah, it's right here," the female Zabrak sighed, jerking a thumb at her terminal. "I can't get anything inbound or outbound."

Bee Seven gave her a cheerful beep beep boop and plugged in. Having created the error itself, that took almost no time to fix; instead, Bee Seven spent its time uploading a temporary file of the data Vesta had found, as well as the schematics Bee Seven had purloined from a cleaning droid. Once the upload was complete, Bee Seven set the file's auto-delete and laced it into an innocent message. When it was primed, Bee Seven projected on the screen: R EPAIR COMPLETE. S END TEST SIGNAL TO A LLANTEEN S HIPYARDS?

"Huh? Oh, yeah, good idea.  Last thing I want is to wait for another astro."

Bee Seven sent the test message down to the Imperial military berths; it took just a little longer than usual, because it carried the data packet on a different route entirely. When the shipyards called back up to confirm receipt, the Zabrak nodded. "Good, it's working. I'll take it from here."

Bwerrp beep.

Bee Seven rolled out into the corridor, deleting its internal copies of the files and wiping the datacard Vesta had given it as it went. As it processed the events of the day, however, it reached several conclusions.


 * M ISSION = R ETRIEVE SCHEMATICS OF THE K ISS OF D EATH AND SHUTTLE CLEARANCE CODES
 * S CHEMATICS = R ETRIEVED BY B EE S EVEN
 * C LEARANCE CODES = R ETRIEVED BY V ESTA
 * ∴ M ISSION = C OMPLETE
 * N EW MISSION = F ALSE
 * ∵ N EW MISSION = F ALSE ∴ M ISSION = F ALSE
 * ∴ P ROGRAM : T HE M ISSION F IRST = I NACTIVE
 * F IRST LOGGED OPERATION : M OURN

Bee Seven stopped in a deserted corridor and bowed forward, changing its sensor color to gray and letting out a long, low whistle.


 * T EAM = C YNAN + V ESTA + N EERIC + R ODERQUE + L EFKA + G LIM + B EE S EVEN
 * C YNAN + R ODERQUE + L EFKA + G LIM = O N A LLANTEEN S HIPYARDS
 * V ESTA = T ERMINATED
 * N EERIC = T ERMINATED …
 * E RROR

Bee Seven picked up its head, replaying its last conversation with Vesta—did Neeric equal terminated?

I haven't seen Neeric in a couple days; either they have him, or he's dead.


 * N EERIC = T ERMINATED?
 * E ITHER = C ONTRASTING ADJECTIVE (G ALACTIC B ASIC S TANDARD )
 * I F (EITHER A OR B) THEN A + B = F ALSE
 * (N EERIC = T ERMINATED ) = U NCLEAR
 * IF (FRIEND) + (COMRADE) + (DANGER (IF DANGER=MORTAL)) THEN :
 * –P ROTECT
 * –S UPPORT
 * –D O NOT ABANDON
 * I NVESTIGATE!

And Bee Seven set off to find out if Neeric equaled terminated after all.