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B1-4546-13, a standard B1 battle droid, fresh off the factory. And like most Battle Droids, as soon as it's assembled and tested, it was packed up and shipped off to fight in the ongoing war against the Republic.
On a docile planet in The Mid-Rim, B1-4546-13 was stationed, marching in sync with his unit as per instruction. While walking, B1-4546-13 didn’t think much about the planet itself. Nothing but dirt and tall grass, the mud sinking into the crevices of its mechanical toes.
It doesn’t complain or have an opinion, it was a droid after all.
But then, B1-4546-13 stopped when a foreign object fluttered in its peripheral, a creature with two wings attached to a tiny insect body. B1-4546-13 noticed there was a swarm of them littering the field of tall grass while the Battle Droid army disturbed their nesting grounds.
B1-4546-13 had never seen such color since its first creation; it had only looked upon rusted copper, grimy walls of a factory, and red lights from beeping machines that molded and assembled its parts. The color of this creature was not like that of those, it was vivid, contrasting against its robotic plates.
Blue, his processor provided. It was the color blue.
With its metallic fingers, it slowly reached for one of the fluttering creatures above its head. B1-4546-13’s optical unit scanned it, trying to analyze what it was—Butterflies, his scans confirmed—until it halted when it landed on its claws.
It barely felt the butterfly’s weight, not like a Battle Droid has touch sensors, to begin with. Tiny insect-like feet made soft pitter-patters on B1-4546-13’s hand, at least that’s what its audio processor could distinguish. Its wings, B1-4546-13 observed, were delicate, bent, and moves like…what were those things attached to trees? Humans called it…Yes, that’s right, leaves. Their wings were like leaves when it flutters in the wind.
Battle Droids didn’t process as fast as the other droids, but it concluded that these small flying creatures were—
“Beautiful,” It said, its voice high-pitched, distorted, like most Battle Droids.
Do droids find anything beautiful? Can they have the processing power to classify an object as beautiful? Its algorithm says it shouldn’t. It was a piece of metal with a blaster, programmed with only one objective, to fight, not find things…pretty.
The creatures continued to fly around B1-4546-13, some landing on its back and head. Despite his fellow droids marching on, it remained still, letting the small fluttering ones swarm it.
“B1-4546-13, you broke formation,” Called out from behind, a droid with a yellow marking on its cranium, indicating it was a Commanding Officer. “Keep moving,”
“Roger Roger,” It said but it didn’t want to move.
Want…?
It’s a droid, it doesn’t want. It’s not supposed to.
There was buzzing in its cranium, a sharp continuous sound until it abruptly stopped. Compelled by its programming, B1-4546-13 marched on and the butterflies dispersed, flying off into the grand sky. The buzzing in its head started again as B1-4546-13 watched them go.
Where are they going? B1-4546-13 wanted to follow them.
However, its programming prevented him to break the formation and it walked on, catching up to his fellow droids.
The buzzing in its head didn’t return until its routine stop, later that day. The droid army had set up a base, assembling portable recharging stations for the long and grueling battle for days to come and a communication hub to relay information to other battalions scattered throughout the planet.
B1-4546-13 was supposed to recharge for the day, and fold into place with the rest of the unit but it stared up at the sky, wondering where those butterflies had flown off to. Then, it heard it, not the beating wings of a butterfly but chirping, frantic and loud.
Against his programming, B1-4546-13 broke formation again and follow the sound into the thick forest. The chirping sounded close when it stumbled upon an oasis with various flora, and fauna surrounding a shallow pond. A ball of fluff was detected on its scanner, crying. Cautiously, B1-4546-13 approached the crying ball, and tiny beady eyes stared up at it. Its intel said it was a duckling.
Despite the bird’s frantic chirping, B1-4546-13 kneeled, making itself as non-threatening as possible, and reached out for the tiny creature with its metal hand. The duckling pecked at its metallic fingers, thinking it was a new shiny food. It seemed…pleased with B1-4546-13’s presence.
There was more chirping around him.
B1-4546-13 turned and spotted a brigade of yellow fluffy ducklings peeking out of the bushes! Before the droid could process, The rest of the little ones gathered around B1-4546-13’s folded legs, furiously pecking at the dirt between its metal joints and rubbing against it to feel warm, like most B1 units, they regulate a constant heat to prevent their parts from rusting in wet conditions or to freeze in cold weather.
“Oh,” B1-4546-13 gasped when one of the ducklings jumped into his hand, chirping at them.
Delicately as it possibly could, B1-4546-13 scratched the duckling’s head with its finger and the tiny puff of yellow melted into its hands, eyes closed and leaning into its touch.
The buzzing noise in B1-4546-13’s head started again but louder, faster.
Battle Droids didn’t process as fast as the other droids, but it concluded swiftly that ducklings are—
“Cute,” It said, its voice high-pitched but had a strange softness in its tone, unlike a standard Battle Droids.
The buzzing noise in B1-4546-13’s head grew louder and more erratic once a piece of peculiar information crossed its code.
Life.
This little yellow thing, docile, and innocent, had life. These creatures breathed, grow and experience the world so differently than B1-4546-13, who is a mechanical, unfeeling droid. It wondered if all organics were like this, able to see and process things without an algorithm or a network and yet have a better understanding than B1-4546-13 will.
“B1-4546-13, report back to your charging station!” The voice of its commanding officer beeped into his cranium but B1-4546-13 didn’t move, at least not before gently scooping the rest of the duckling in its arms, others were squirming and the rest were fast asleep against its warm chest plate. B1-4546-13 scanned for their nest, which was hidden in the bushes near the pond, and laid them down one by one, careful not to squish them between his metal fingers.
Once they all laid into a fluffy bundle, B1-4546-13 shrouded the nest with loose ends of the bush, making sure it was concealed but not suffocating the little duckling. When he ran the survival probability of the little ones, it beeped, seeing it at 75%.
It was good enough.
B1-4546-13 stood up to report back but stopped when a ball of fluff scurried out of the bushes into its feet. One of the ducklings, a brave little one, wanted to follow B1-4546-13, big black wide eyes looked up at it. His chirps begged for attention.
“No,” It said, its voice high-pitched but had a somberness in its tone, unlike a standard Battle Droids. “Stay,”
B1-4546-13 picked up the duckling once more and placed them with the rest of their brothers and sisters. It didn’t wait this time, B1-4546-13 left with great haste.
The buzzing in its head was getting harder to ignore.
They went to battle the following morning and it was grueling, more than its program had anticipated. After losing almost half their battalion, the droid army took out a Clone Camp and shoot down their LAAT, preventing them to escape.
“The clones are dead,” One of his units declared. “Move out,”
His fellow droids marched on, however, B1-4546-13 remained, its optical units never leaving the unmoving body before him. B1-4546-13 kneeled, removing the bucket from the Clone Trooper’s head, blank haunting eyes staring back at it. Red liquid tainted its metal fingers, blood.
Dead.
This clone was dead. It was the first time he’s seen an organic die.
B1-4546-13’s arms shook as touched the clone’s skin, clammy, and cold. It was then it realized, that the clones breathed, grow, and experience the world so differently than B1-4546-13. Clones had life, just like the butterflies and the ducklings.
B1-4546-13 wondered if he had it too.
Life.
Suddenly, he heard it, ragged breathing just beneath the rubble of the Clone Camp. B1-4546-13 quickly followed the sound and spotted white armor buried under broken equipment and caches before pulling the rubble away from it.
A Clone without his helmet, his face covered ash and dry blood but very much alive.
This clone was alive!
B1-4546-13 didn’t process what that meant even when his code screamed at him to warn his fellow droids. He only thought of one thing, life. B1-4546-13 needed to preserve life, it didn’t matter if it was a clone’s.
He dropped his blaster in a fit of panic, digging out the remains of their LAAT for something, anything. He whined when the clone survival rate dropped significantly as time passed.
“Ah-ha!” He rejoiced, pulling out a medpac under a dead trooper’s body.
He had to get this to clone quickly.
The buzzing had gotten louder at this point, he could barely process what was happening. The clone, still injured, was sitting up, aiming his blaster at B1-4546-13’s chest. He stared into the clone’s eyes, brown eyes sharp, holding a deep-seated rage.
B1-4546-13’s protocol urged him to shoot, and kill the clone, but his blaster was lost in a pile of rubble when he was searching for medical supplies.
His scowl faltered when he spotted B1-4546-13 holding a medpac but his blaster was still trained at him. Slowly, B1-4546-13 placed the metal box at his feet, not missing how the clone’s finger twitched on the trigger and kicked it towards the clone.
Skeptical at first, he looked at the medpac and, without letting B1-4546-13 out his sights, picked up the pack. The clone fumbled because of his broken arm, trying to open the metal case for some bacta.
“Your arm is damaged,” B1-4546-13 said, his voice high-pitched but had a worried tone, unlike a standard Battle Droids.
“Shut it, Clanker!”
Not missing a beat, he said. “Let me assist,”
“Yeah, assist, my backside,” The clone muttered, trying to pry the medpac open.
“Without proper medical attention, you will die, slowly and painfully.” B1-4546-13 approached slowly despite the blaster still aimed at his chest plate.
“Take another step and you’re—”
“Please,” B1-4546-13 pleaded. “Let me assist you,”
Maybe it was the way B1-4546-13 sounded so earnest or he needed urgent medical care because the Clone Trooper stopped, and stared at him with wide eyes before slowly putting the blaster down but not holstering it.
“No funny business, Clanker.” He warned.
“I am not programmed for funny business, ” The snappy retort squeezed a dry chuckle out of the Clone.
B1-4546-13 walked towards the trooper, knelt, and started to perform basic medical training. Droids like him aren’t programmed to be medics but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know them. With the collective knowledge he has with his network, B1-4546-13 can at least mend a broken arm and stop the pain.
“You taking me hostage?” Clone Trooper said, glaring at him while he applied a bacta patch on his arm.
“Battle Droids don’t take prisoners, we are ordered to shoot clones on sight.” The droid explained callously.
“So, why—” He flinched when B1-4546-13 tied the knot a little too tight of his makeshift sling. “Didn’t you?”
“I do not know,” B1-4546-13 said, perplexed. “I did not…want to.”
“Didn’t want to?” The trooper laughed, nervously. “The boys aren’t going to believe this,”
“You are operational,” The droid announced once he finished the sling for the clone’s broken arm. Not even a thank you from the Clone but the grip on his blaster was looser, proving B1-4546-13 wasn’t an immediate threat.
B1-4546-13 looked upon the clone one more time before assessing the extent of his injuries. He could walk for sure but if he sees another battle he’ll keel over. Tapping into his network, the droid processed at least 100 possible routes for escape and only had a higher rate of success.
“From my data, the next Republic camp isn’t far. I suggest you take the mountain pass, it’s a long route but less resistance,” B1-4546-13 spoke. “Move quickly if you want to live,”
The clone continued to stare at him as if he had a second welded on his shoulders. B1-4546-13 stated awkwardly. “I am leaving now,”
“Wait!” Snapping out his stupor, The clone called out just as B1-4546-13 was about to stand. “So, that’s it?”
B1-4546-13 tilted his head, confused by the question.
“You’re not going to kill me or take me as a prisoner. You—” The Clone started, his eyes bearing into the droid. “Helped me and you’re just gonna walk away?”
B1-4546-13 doesn’t understand why the Clone sounded confused, the logic was simple and sound. “Affirmative.”
“Affirmative??” He cried, almost manic, before following it with chuckles. “This is crazy—This isn’t real—”
“I am very real,”
“Shut up just—” The clone tried desperately to convey his thought process. “You’re a droid! Droids don’t do that. Why did you do it?”
The noise, the buzzing sound in his head was so loud but he ran a quick diagnostic and found his system functional.
The noise…
“...I don’t know,” B1-4546-13 repeated.
After a pregnant pause, the clone chuckled, a little unhinged. “What the hell are you?”
What was he?
“I am B1-4546-13,” The droid answered simply.
The Clone laughed again and B1-4546-13 concluded he might have a concussion. He might reconsider a safer route for his escape.
“Hey, Clanker!”
Was all B1-4546-13 heard before his chest plate shattered, leaving a searing hole in its wake? His vision fuzzed while the clone trooper watched in horror when B1-4546-13 fell. The buzzing in his head was the only indication he was still operational, barely.
Droids don’t feel pain, not like organics do anyway. But this—Was this pain? It was as if his processor was being crushed, his code being purged by malware.
This was pain.
“Chuckles, are you okay?”
His optical units were glitching but his audio processing worked just fine. He heard the clones say.
“Y-Yeah,” The trooper he saved, Chuckles, stuttered.
“You’re lucky we got to you, that clanker was pretty close,”
“I, um,” A cough. “This is going to sound crazy but it…helped me,”
Silence.
“Really, Chuckles, a joke at a time like this?”
“You must have hit your head pretty hard, brother,”
“It helped you? It’s a clanker!”
A Clanker, a droid, that’s what B1-4546-13 was. He doesn’t breathe, grow, and experience the world differently, as others do. So, was B1-4546-13 ever even alive, to begin with? Can something die even though it never lived?
“C’mon, let’s get out of here,”
“But—”
“Up you get, soldier.”
Movements grew distant but B1-4546-13 could still hear the clones grunting, limping, and laughing.
Battle Droids didn’t process as fast as the other droids, but it concluded mournfully that dying felt—
“Cold,” He said, his voice high-pitched but had hurt and sorrow in its tone, unlike a standard Battle Droids. “I feel…cold,”
The shuffling of feet stopped but B1-4546-13 hardly cared, his shutdown was imminent.
B1-4546-13, a standard B1 battle droid, fresh off the factory. And like most Battle Droids, as soon it breaks, it’s discarded, useless, and left for dead.
