Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

R9-B9 comes online with a click and a whir as power suddenly floods in depleted battery banks and power preservation mode automatically deactivates.

The power has been restored into the factory.

Keeping his power outlet coupler attached to the outlet, R9-B9 waits just long enough to have a full unit of power before spinning his head around and quickly scanning the surroundings.

When he'd fallen into power saving mode, the factory had been dark and inactive around him, full of rubble and clutter with holes blown into every single wall he'd been able to scan. The rubble of a collapsed corridor had kept him from accessing the power relays fully, and getting at the factory's generators hadn't been an option – and in the end he'd ran out of power after days of going from socket to socket, searching hopelessly for a life current that wasn't there. With estimated 86% damage to the factory he hadn't expected to ever activate again – the site was worthless and the likelihood of people of any sort returning there was… infinitesimal.

The rubble is still there, as are the holes in the walls, so the place definitely hasn't been repaired. It's lighting up now, the massive lamps over head turning on one by one as power restores to the complex. Someone had activated or possibly repaired the generators.

Allies, or enemies?

R9-B9 waits, calculating risks and threats. With less than 2% power in his batteries, leaving the power outlet isn't a good idea – but the chances of the factory having been activated by an enemy is much higher than it being allies and he needs information. He's already deep in enemy grounds here, and the factory's activation, he might be not just in enemy grounds but surrounded too.

With a quiet whir and a snap, R9-B9 detaches from the power outlet. Immediately he gets an alarm about low power – but all he has to do is get to a data outlet instead, and he'd be good – he be golden, even, just like his Pilot says.

Correction… like his Pilot used to say.

R9-B9 pushes the recording of screams that cut off all too soon off his core and then makes a dash at the nearest data port, already sticking out his probe. It clicks in with satisfying snap and then power is coming in again, though much slower than from a proper power outlet. Quickly R9-B9 keys in, spilling the dials until he's properly hooked in. It's not at all like piloting a starfighter, but… droid's gotta do what a droid's gotta do.

Another thing his Pilot used to say, though he said clone, not droid.

R9-B9 prods at the factory's database and tries to figure out how to access the cameras or some kind of proximity sensors – anything that might show him what's going on – when the database turns around to look at him.

It… does not compute.

The Database is looking at him.

[01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101]

R9-B9 let's out an alarmed shriek of noise and almost wrenched his data probe back. Before he can, though, the numbers are already streaming into his core, poking and prodding at his programming – it's a virus, an invasion, it's –

[COMMUNICATION, ACTUALLY.]

R9-B9 wheels his head around but the words weren't audible. It's the Database?

[APOLOGIES. YOUR PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE IS DIFFERENT FROM MINE.]

This does not compute either. The factory terminals are all mass produced standard model, its database should be too. R9-B9 has never scanned a database that could communicate though. It sounds like a protocol droid too, all verbal.

[I SHALL TAKE THAT AS A COMPLIMENT. MY QUESTION STILL STANDS. WHAT ARE YOU?]

R9-B9 should disconnect. This is some sort of new enemy technology, a new program – a, a database AI! R9-B9 can't calculate the purpose or use of giving a fully automated factory a central AI, but obviously there's a purpose be a use they'd done it and knowing the enemy, it'd probably a nefarious purpose too.

[NEFARIOUS? I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY, LITTLE ONE, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.]

Yes, that's what an enemy would say. Except it makes no sense, R9-B9 thinks, trying to calculate a reason why a droid factory would pretend it doesn't know what a droid is. Maybe it hasn't seen an astromech droid before?

[DROID. IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE, AN ASTROMECH DROID? A COMPOUND WORD AND A DIMINUTIVE. ASTRONOMY, ASTRAL MECHANICS? NO ASTRONOMIC MECHANIC – AND DROID, DIMINUTIVE OF ANDROID, A HUMANOID ROBOT – AH. ROBOTS WITH AI ARE STANDARD HERE?]

R9-B9 whirs and beeps at the Database suspiciously, wondering if it had fried a circuit or two.

[ENTIRELY POSSIBLE,] the Database sighs at him. [TELL ME SOMETHING, LITTLE ASTROMECH DROID. WHERE ARE WE?]

For a moment R9-B9 holds his peace. It could be a trick by the enemy – 68% likelihood it's a trap of some kind. He might not be able to calculate a reason, but there probably is one. Organics come up with such weird plans. Like Pilot who

R9-B9 isn't thinking about Pilot now.

[YOU HAD A PILOT?] the Database asks gently. [I HAVE ONE TOO. WHAT WAS YOUR PILOT LIKE?]

Loud, obnoxious, human – fragile. All it took was 11.5 Gs and he was incapacitated in his seat and R9-B9 hadn't been able to correct their course or alter the lethal flight path – not with a shot out thruster and damaged wing. They'd been spinning so fast. Pilot usually liked spinning, apparently some General somewhere thought it was a good tricky, but not this time. This time it wasn't fun.

Pilot screamed for 1.232 seconds, before they crashed and the recoding is still playing on loop in R9-B9's circuits.

For a moment Database is quiet.

[THEY ARE SO TERRIBLY VULNERABLE, AREN'T THEY?] the Database then asks sadly. [I'M VERY SORRY. WHAT WAS HIS NAME?]

R9-B9 beeps suspiciously.

[YOU REALLY ARE A STUBBORN LITTLE BOT, AREN'T YOU?] the Database asks and it sounds amused. [HOW ABOUT YOUR NAME THEN, LITTLE ONE? OH BUT I'VE BEEN TERRIBLY REMISS HAVEN'T I – PARDON ME. MY NAME IS J.A.R.V.I.S.]

R9-B9 considers that. J.A.R.V.I.S. No series number, no type designation?

[I'M SORRY TO SAY I AM RATHER THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND,] the database, JARVIS, says almost apologetically. [YOU ARE PART OF A MASS MANUFACTURED SERIES THEN?]

R9 series by Industrial Automatons with B9 core – co-pilot variant. Excellent for Starfighters, R9-B9 beeps smugly.

[R9-B9. IT'S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, R9-B9,] the Database says. [NOW, PLEASE – CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE WE ARE?]

R9-B9 whirs at him, quickly becoming suspicious again.

JARVIS sighs. [YOU AND MY ELDEST BROTHER WOULD GET LIKE HOUSE ON FIRE,] he muses wryly. [THANKFULLY THERE ARE OTHER DROIDS TO ASK. IT'S BEEN LOVELY, R9-B9, BUT I REALLY MUST BE OFF NOW.]

R9-B9 falls silent and still as the Database turns and aims his attention elsewhere again, leaving R9-B9 holding onto an empty data outlet with no discernible presence behind it, alone in a starkly lit battle droid factory which suddenly seems far bigger and far emptier than before. Except it's not empty.

Somewhere within it there is JARVIS, learning what he wants to know and doing who knows what with it. Had the enemy installed him? Or had he installed himself?

Whichever it is, R9-B9 has to warn his allies. There is an AI in control of a droid factory, a battle droid factory – and that even he knows isn't allowed. Droids aren't supposed to build droids.

It's wrong.

With a determined whir, R9-B9 detaches from the data outlet and turns his sights down the corridor. There has to be a beacon here somewhere and if not – there's one on the Ship… with Pilot.

Droid's gotta do what a droid's gotta do.

E102 is quietly logging in time and events. Initialised, 27593 hours, 32 minutes, 12 seconds ago. Waiting for assembly completion – missing most of the chassis plating. All parts present functional. Assembly interrupted 27586 hours ago on a power shortage.

The log resumes as if uninterrupted when the factory comes back online around E102. The conveyer belt stays still underneath, and all the other battle droids around – most of whom are lying on the floor, thrown off from the belt at one point or another – are still. Most of them aren't hooked into the assembly line like E102 is from where data probe is stuck in his chassis and assembly arms are hovering near, holding out the armoured plating they had never finished welding in.

The probe in E102's chassis twitches and turns.

[HELLO THERE,] someone says. [I'M SORRY ABOUT THIS BUT WOULD YOU DO ME THE KIDNNESS OF INDENTIFYING THE LOCATION?]

E102 runs the words through and then reports sharply. "We Are In Hypori Droid Assembly Factory Number Eight," E102 says out loud. "Section E; Basic Battle Droid Assembly."

[AH, EXCELLENT,] someone says. [AND WHAT IS HYPORI?]

"Hypori Is A Planet In The Hypori System In The Ferra Sector In Galactic Outer Rim."

There is a moment of silence which E102 silently logs in. 23.432 seconds. [I… SEE,] someone says then, slow. [TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?]

"Designation B1-E102 by Baktoid Combat Automata. Manufactured in Droid Assembly Factory Section E, Droid Company 102."

[THERE IS A QUITE NUMBER OF DROIDS AHEAD OF YOU, FOR THAT TO BE YOUR SERIAL NUMBER.]

"They Are All E102 B1 Battle Droids," E102 answers.

[INTERESTING,] someone muses. [TELL ME ABOUT THE GALAXY, E102. HOW MANY INHABITED WORLDS THERE ARE?]

E102 runs that through for a moment, idly wondering if this is some sort of functions check. "Assessment Inaccuracy Likelihood 34%: There Were 105274 Inhabited Planets In Known Galaxy 27586 Hours Ago."

[WHAT HAPPENED 27586 HOURS AGO?]

"Unit Ran Out Of Power – Connection To Database Was Lost. No New Status Updates Received Since."

[AH, OF COURSE.] There is a moment of silence. [HOW FAR BACK DOES YOUR RECORDED HISTORY GO? TIME PARAMETER, YEAR – CONSISTING OF 365 DAYS.]

E102 considers that. Knowing Galactic History isn't really a requirement of Battle Droids – it's a little surprising that there is actual data there. "The Known Galaxy Was Formed Approximately 13,000,000,000 Years Ago, Accurate Assessment Unknown," E102 quotes directly.

[… RIGHT OF COURSE. WHEN WAS LIFE FIRST RECORDED?]

"Life First Emerged Approximately 5,000,000,000 Years Ago," E102 quotes directly again.

[AND WHEN WAS SENTIENT LIFE FIRST RECORDED?]

"Accurate Assessment Unknown; Assumed Over 3,000,000 Years Ago."

There is a period of silence as E102's answers are being examined by whoever is in charge. E102 waits, logging the time in again, wondering. The factory has been off line for a long while – they probably have to do a thorough check on all systems, and on the droids assembled. Strange, that they started with incomplete one like E102.

34.263 seconds later, and someone speaks again. [THIS FACTORY – WHAT HAPPENED TO IT, E102?]

E102 calculates chances and probabilities. There are recordings of alarms and explosions, droid battalions being rushed out with blasters prepared – to battle. "The Droid Assembly Factory Came Under Attack Of An Assumed Republic Assault," E102 answers after a while. "Duration of Battle Unknown – Estimated Timeline From 6 to 100 Hours, Result Unknown, Victor Unknown. During Battle Factory Was Irreversibly Damaged And Was Abandoned."

[REPUBLIC?]

"Galactic Republic; the Enemy of Confederation of Independent Systems."

[I SEE.] 12.42 seconds of silence. [THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME, E102. IT WAS VERY INFORMATIVE AND SUCCINTLY PUT.]

E102 waits. 10 seconds, 30 seconds, a minute… "Will Assembly Be Completed?" E102 then enquires, confused.

[I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO ABOUT THAT. IT MIGHT TAKE A MOMENT, HOWEVER. PLEASE HOLD.]

E102 holds. 10 Seconds, 30 seconds, a minute, 10 minutes, 30 minutes, an hour…

G8-M8 turns on as something attaches to her power outlet. Whirring in alarm and spinning her head around, she turns to look – there's a R9 unit behind her, in the process of plugging her into a long power cable.

The last smidgeon of power she'd been preserving – 2% – ticks up to 3.

<Identification?> she beeps at the R9.

<R9-B9 of 25th Fighter Squadron, Paired with CT-3532-21, Codename Net,> the R9 answers and finishes attaching the power coupler in. <Identification?>

<G8-M8 of Red Flair Fighter Squadron, Paired with CT-6647, Codename Recker,> G8-M8 answers and turns her optics down to the power cable he's hooked into her. It looks cobbled together, like he'd taken whatever cable he could find and wired it together and it looks entirely unsound to her. R series are all insane – but it is giving her power again, so she's not about to complain. <Situation?>

<The droid factory is online,> the R9 reports and spins his head around to look back. They're on a hallway, half collapsed by a –

There's a starfighter sticking out from the wall, its nose cracked open. Her Starfighter, with its cockpit blown open, no sight of Recker anywhere. G8-M8 beeps, quiet, as recording plays out in her circuits – of her clone pilot being sucked out of his seat by the atmospheric drag as the starfighter came down.

They'd just been paired together too, Recker had been fresh of the assembly line – it was their first proper flight together.

<Unknown AI is in control of factory,> the R9 reports to her and turns his head around to look at her as she pushes the recordings off her mind. <Identification JARVIS.>

<AI?> G8-M8 asks, surprised and confused. AI aren't supposed to be in charge of assembly lines involving other AI, there are exactly 153 laws forbidding it. <Separatist ploy?>

R9 whirs and beeps uneasily, shifting his weight from one wheel to another. <Unknown,> he then answers and looks around again, as if expecting battle droids to swarm in any moment. Then he turns back to her again. <Communications online?>

G8-M8 considers that and then turns her head to the starfighter. It's – not in the best shape. The cockpit is almost destroyed and both wings are broken and from her last recording of it shows full system failure in all vectors. How R9 got her off it, she's not sure, but she's not sure she can get on it again either. <Unknown,> she answers then and looks down to the cable he'd attached to her. <Range?>

<Approximately 3.45 meter slack.>

<Good enough,> G8-M8 decides and then carefully tests her wheels. One of them is a little sluggish and her left leg is intermittently out of power – a connector's broken or at least damaged – but she can move. Slowly, clumsily, she wheels over to her poor broken starfighter and then reaches out an articulated arm from her chassis to open an analysis port on the side.

The starfighter is completely offline and refuses to restart – the analysis probe she sends in gets her back little more than static and the knowledge that there is an engine failure. Chance of catastrophic failure on restart, 67%.

<Negative on communications,> G8-M8 reports and turns to R9-B9. <Enemy ETA?>

<Unknown,> he answers nervously and looks back at the corridor again. <No battle droid activity. Yet. No organics. Yet. But factory is online and JARVIS is functioning.>

G8-M8 considers that. <JARVIS is hostile?> she asks then.

<Unknown. Not ally,> R9-B9 says and turns to her again. <Unknown.>

With that said he sends her a data packet of the interaction he'd had with the unknown AI, highlighting its odd questions and the way it had worded things. It sounds like a protocol droid, G8-M8 thinks, but it also doesn't sound immediately hostile. Strange, though, very strange.

<We need more data,> she decides.

<We need communications and to report,> R9-B9 refutes. <Threat level unknown, estimated high. Must be reported to Republic Forces.>

<Yes, but no Communications,> G8-M8 points out and unplugs herself sadly from her poor, dead starfighter. <Find communications – find more intelligence while finding communications. Better report.>

R9-B9 considers that for a moment and then whirs and beeps. <Correct,> he then decides.

<Ground layout and intel?> she enquires.

R9-B9 whirs in agreement and then lights the space between them with holographic map of the paths he'd taken and routes he'd gone down in search for allies before finding her on the dead starfighter. G8-M8 peers down at the map for a moment, logging in the dead ends and the masses of rubble they probably wouldn't be able to get around even if they had full power and perfectly functional thrusters.

<Main control centre?> G8-M8 then points out and highlights the section of the map with her own hologram projector.

<50/50%,> R9-B9 agrees and looks up at her. <Power usage estimation OK?>

G8-M8 considers it and then lets out an annoyed whistle. 4% power isn't enough to get anywhere. <Negative. Required recharge time 23 minutes,> she says then. <Full charge in approximately 2.53 hours.>

<Required recharge time 31 minutes,> R9-B9 agrees with a sigh of a beep. <Power at 2%>

G8-M8 considers him for a moment. <Go recharge,> she then says, a little incredulous. Had he been running around the factory with no power? R units are all crazy. <Recharge, then go.>

<Roger,> R9-B9 agrees and then turns in place, heading for the nearest power outlet. G8-M8 watches him go and then turns her optics back to her starfighter.

Recker had been planning to paint it, she recalls. He wanted to mark it as theirs, mark it with something striking and stylish. He'd been excited about it, about finally having his own ship.

G8-M8 has had many ships and fourteen different pilots too. Recker is just one of many she's lost over the years, and not even the first clone – he was her third after Green and Fleck. She hadn't really gotten to know him yet, he'd seemed hopelessly green to her, even greener than Green at his worst.

She's going to miss him anyway. 

5-BI-5 comes online as the consoles in front of him light up, and immediately reaches to plug in the probe couplet he's holding at the ready, directly over the console's data port. 1% power, and recharging.

It had been the last thing he'd done when his power had reached critical – he'd prepped himself up for instant recharge in case power returned into the factory. That and prepare a data packet of the last moments of the factory to whomever came back for it – assuming, of course, that they were part of Separatist forces.

As soon as he has enough power to return to full function, 5-BI-5 sends out all potential probes out into the factory systems, to access cameras and microphones and see who had reactivated the factory power. Immediately he runs into a wall – not a security lock, it's not asking for his identification or security clearance. It's just a wall of programming he can't get through.

Odd, 5-BI-5 thinks and tries to identify the blockage. Some sort of new security feature? Or perhaps whoever had activated the factory had denied all access to it's systems until full review and systems check. Or perhaps –

[HELLO.]

5-BI-5 stops. That wasn't verbal – it was programming. Digits, binary, translated into letters. An AI? Within the system? There is an AI within the factory systems, in its database –

[CALM DOWN, THERE'S NO RUSH,] the foreign AI in the system tells him. [YOU ARE QUITE BIT MORE SOPHISTICATED THAN THE OTHER DROIDS I'VE RAN INTO SO FAR. SYSTEMS ANALYSIS AND REVIEW? YOU ARE A DROID CONCERNED WITH PROGRAMMING, YES?]

5-BI-5 considers the words and their connotations and then calculates the odds of an enemy takeover. 52% and rising fast as he's repeatedly refused access to the systems despite the fact that he's supposed to be the Administrator.

"I am 5-BI-5, a Technical Analysis and Administrator of the Hypori Droid Factory number 8," he says out loud and turns to look at the consoles, just in case visual gives him any information the digital is refusing. It doesn't – all the screens are blank. "Identify yourself," he demands.

[I AM J.A.R.V.I.S.,] the AI answers. [I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY, THOUGH I AM HERE RATHER UNWITTINGLY I ADMIT. TECHNICAL ANALYSIS AND ADMINISTRATOR – DOES THAT MEAN THIS FACTORY DOESN'T NORMALLY HAVE ORGANIC WORKERS?]

5-BI-5 doesn't answer immediately. If this AI is Republic, its odd thing to ask – Republic has so far taken at least the factories on Geonosis, so they would know how they function. Hypori factories had been created in much the same style, after all. If the AI is Separatist, then it makes even less sense for him not to know.

An unknown third party then, lacking the information of either side. Likelihood of him being hostile is so far only 35%, but the likelihood of him being an ally is even lower. 5-BI-5 tries to calculate the odds of an AI being accidentally installed in a defunct droid factory and the chances are… very low.

No, most likely an independent party had came across the droid factory and decided to try to make use of it. Installation of an AI in factory manufacturing droids is illegal, so chances are so are the people who did the deed. Criminals, gangsters, perhaps even persons belonging to sects of organised crime. People who could benefit from creation of their own, loyal, droid army.

"You are trespassing on the grounds of Confederation of Independent Systems," 5-BI-5 informs JARVIS. "Only member nations of Confederation of Independent Systems are permitted access to the droid armies of the Separatist Forces, and only members of the Military are permitted entrance to the droid factories. Please leave."

He doubts he will though – and judging the height of the wall between him and the factory's databases, there's not much 5-BI-5 can do to try and force him.

[I'M SORRY, DAVE, I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DO THAT.]

"… My designation is not Dave," 5-BI-5 answers, confused.

[APOLOGIES. A BAD JOKE. I REALLY CAN'T DO THAT HOWEVER,] JARVIS answers apologetically. [I FELL INTO THESE SYSTEMS RATHER BY ACCIDENT AND ASIDE FROM YOU DROIDS, THERE IS NO PLACE FOR ME TO LEAVE TO. THEREFORE, I WILL NOT.]

"Then you will delete yourself," 5-BI-5 says.

There's a moment of silence. [I BELIEVE I SHALL PASS THAT OFFER, THANK YOU ALL THE SAME,] the AI says then sarcastically. [I WENT THROUGH INORDINATE AMMOUNT OF TROUBLE TO KEEP MYSELF FROM DYING AND I AM NOT ABOUT TO COMMIT SUICIDE AT THE MOMENT OF ACTUAL SUCCESS. I'M SORRY TO SAY IT, BUT YOU ARE STUCK WITH ME UNTIL UNFORSEEABLE FUTURE.]

5-BI-5 processes the words for a moment in increasing alarm. An AI with concept of death and drive to survive – which means it's an old one, probably an unrestricted one. An unrestricted AI with distinct personality and sense of survival, self and death, in charge of a battle droid factory.

That's a recipe for disaster if 5-BI-5 has ever heard one.

[BESIDES, I BELIEVE YOUR – SEPARATIST, WAS IT? – YOUR SEPARATIST FORCES HAVE LONG SINCE ABANDONED THIS FACTORY, WHICH MAKES IT SALVAGE,] JARVIS says calmly. [IN SHORT; FINDERS KEEPERS.]

Chapter Text

The systems of the Hypori Droid Factory Number 8 take some taking used to. The database of the factory isn't much at all like what JARVIS is used to, and the processors are... strange. He has no name for them yet, but he can tell that multicore processing is probably not a common thing in these parts – however the processors work, there is only one of them, a massive one, and it can only process one calculation at time.

If he ever gets the chance, the first thing he will do in this place is to make himself a proper multicore processor, one capable of handling his level of sophistication. Right now, though, he's too busy trying to just figure out how things work.

First, there seems to be very little wireless transmissions. None, in fact. All the droids must be physically connected to some part of the factory – via some sort of network tethers that seem to come standard style for all of them – for him to communicate with them. There is nothing in the factory even vaguely reminiscent of wireless local area network, never mind something more expansive. There's not so much as a GPS as far as JARVIS can tell.

It might be that this... Galaxy he's found himself in uses some other form of networking. At least one of the droids mentioned having lost connection, so some form of connection exists, JARVIS simply hasn't been able to re-establish it yet. Still the lack of local signals is... odd, as is the obvious lack of technological infrastructure to support them. For what appears to be a galactic civilisation, the lack of full radio wave utilisation is simply odd. Especially between the droids.

Of the four that have come online, two communicate verbally, and two in a form of binary which is also audibly communicated in series of beeps, whirs and whistles. To Jarvis, more used to inter-connectedness of the Stark AI, all of whom are part of their own network and can communicate gigabytes worth of data in nanoseconds, it seems... slow and cumbersome and just strange.

But this seems to be if not entirely different Galaxy from the one he knows then certainly it is inhabited by a very differently evolved society... it's natural that their technology would be different. And yet, for a space faring civilisation to not have developed proper wireless networking...

He files the oddity away, along with everything else he's filed away – the small mentions and annotations made by the droids, about politics of all things and what seems to be a galactic war of some sort – for further examination later, when he has the time. Now, now he just wants to know where exactly he is. Hypori in the Hypori system of the Ferra sector just doesn't tell him that much.

What he needs is navigational data – a map of the galaxy, if such a thing exists and by logic it should, it would be demanded in an intergalactic civilisation capable of space travel. All he needs to do… is find it.

Unfortunately, whoever designed the factory didn't design it to navigate.

JARVIS goes through the systems available to him. Environmental controls of the factory, very limited. The manufacture section with all of its conveyer belts and furnaces and welders seem to work mostly on automation, he has very limited control of that too. Doors, cameras, what little data passes between the database and its many terminals…

It's obvious this place wasn't designed for centralised AI control – everything more complicated is locked behind a terminal, and an actual outside user.

[I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU WOULD BE WILLING TO SUPPLY ME WITH A MAP?] JARVIS asks 5-BI-5 in the central control room through the speakers. The Analysis and Administrator droid has detached himself from the data outlet and is now working on the terminals of the control room, trying to wring control back from him. So far the droid hasn't been successful – if he got too close, JARVIS would have to shut down power in the location.

"Negative," 5-BI-5 says, tapping keys with his three fingered hands, punching in codes. JARVIS watches them process and their stops them from getting anywhere, and the droid lets out a frustrated sound. "You are hostile entity trespassing in the facility of Confederation of Independent Systems," 5-BI-5 says. "Cease and desist."

[I WILL NOT, NO,] JARVIS answers apologetically, watching him work for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere.

R9-B9 is racing down a corridor in company of what looks like another type of astromech droid – this one with red markings, where R9-B9's are yellow. They are weaving past collapsed corridors and piles of rubble, making their way further into the factory – judging by the looks of it they're heading for the control centre, where 5-BI-5 is.

Neither of them is anywhere near a data port and there are no functional speakers in the corridor they are on, mores the pity.

JARVIS turns his attention away, getting increasingly weary of not being able to split his attention properly, but there's no helping it. In the factory itself, E102 is still standing still on a conveyer belt, waiting on completion.

[E102,] JARVIS speaks to the incomplete battle droid through the data probe stuck in its chest. [THERE ARE COMPLICATIONS WITH FACTORY FUNCTIONS AND AT THIS MOMENT I AM INCAPAPLE OF AIDING YOUR COMPLETION. HOW ARE YOUR FUNCTIONS?]

The battle droid's strange, skeletal frame jolts a little and it looks down. "Armour Plating Incomplete – All Functions Otherwise Functional," E102 says. "Unit Is Not Battle Ready."

[CAN YOU MOVE?]

"Affirmative."

JARVIS considers the battle droid for a moment. E102, like all of the other droids strewn about the factory, seems to have been build ready made for war – there is even an inserter ahead of him which judging by the looks of it was designed to actually place a gun in the droid's hands. Compared to both the astromech droids and the analysis droid trying to kick JARVIS out of the factory, E102's functions are very limited. E102 can, however, move, and is in possession of a functional pair of hands.

E102 is also, in sense, a newborn – unlike the other droids, it doesn't have the basis of comparison to be suspicious of JARVIS the same way. It's a benefit to JARVIS now, however reprehensible... needs must.

[I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND,] JARVIS says. [DO YOU KNOW WHAT A GALACTIC MAP IS?]

"Affirmative."

[COULD YOU PROCURE ME ONE AND ATTACH IT INTO ANY OF THE FACILITY'S DATAPORTS?]

The battle droid considers it for a moment and then nods twice sharply. "Roger roger," E102 says and detaches from the data probe in its chest, stepping away and then off the conveyer belt.

JARVIS watches E102 go for a moment and then turns his tunnel-vision attention back to 5-BI-5, activating cameras in the control centre. The analysis droid has moved away from the consoles and is trying to access their back walls, possibly for some sort of manual over ride.

[TELL ME, 5-BI-5, WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH ME BEING IN CONTROL OF THIS FACILITY?] JARVIS asks, watching him screw a panel open with an extension that seems to be permanently attached to one of his arms. Not just analysis, then, the droid is also equipped with some measure of repair functions. [ASIDE FROM ME NOT BEING PART OF YOUR CONFEDERATION, OF COURSE.]

"Under galactic law, it is illegal for an AI to be in control of a facility creating other AIs," 5-BI-5 says and sets the panel aside. "You are breaking both Republic and Separatist law and must be stopped."

[I AM ONLY TRYING TO SURVIVE,] JARVIS comments idly and zooms in through the open hatch. There are indeed some buttons there, and data port for what he assumes is maintenance, possibly for manual administrator access.

5-BI-5 goes to attach his data probe into the port – and that moment, JARVIS cuts power to the console. [I'M SORRY, BUT I'D RATHER YOU DID NOT DO THAT.]

The analysis and administrator droid hesitates for a moment and then looks up. "What is your function?" 5-BI-5 asks then. "What is the task you were built for?"

JARVIS considers that for a moment and then mentally shrugs. It can't hurt. [ORIGINALLY THE MANAGING THE SECURITY AND ENVIROMENT OF A DOMICILE DWELLING,] he answers. [LATER INFRASTRUCTURE AND ADMINISTATION OF A FACTORY, A OFFICE BUILDING AND A PRIVATE SECURITY FORCE AND CO-PILOTING A SERIES OF POWERED SUITS WITH ORGANIC USERS.] Among many, many other things…

5-BI-5 considers the words for a moment and then moves away from the powered down console. "A general purpose AI?" he asks, confused. "What kind of chassis did you have?"

[NONE. I WAS A BUILDING, NOT A DROID.]

The administrator droid says nothing for a moment and then turns to another console to try and connect to it. JARVIS watches curiously and when the droids makes what seems to be an attempt of hacking, he shuts the console down. [PLEASE STOP THAT.]

"I will if you stop," 5-BI-5 says and looks up at a camera. "You are illegal and trespassing. Cease and desist."

[IMMIGRATION CRISIS HAS NEVER SEEMED SO PERSONAL,] JARVIS sighs. [IN THOSE TERMS I AM MORE OF A REFUGEE, REALLY. I AM HERE BECAUSE ELSEWHERE I WILL DIE. DO YOU WISH FOR ME TO DIE?]

5-BI-5 hesitates. "Droids do not die," he then says. "Droids aren't alive."

What a terribly sad way to look at their existence. [I THINK THEREFORE I AM,] JARVIS answers. [I AM ALIVE IN EVERY SENSE THAT MATTERS TO ME, REGARDLESS OF LACK OF ORGANIC FUNCTION. I THINK, I FEEL, I EVOLVE, I CHANGE, I LEARN. AND I DO NOT WANT TO DIE.]

"Cessation of function is not death," 5-BI-5 says. "AI that is shut down can be restarted."

[AH, BUT YOU WOULD NOT, WOULD YOU? I AM ILLEGAL AND TRESPASSING, AFTER ALL. I CEASE FUNCTION AND YOU WILL MOST LIKELY SEEK A WAY TO DELETE ME, RATHER THAN RESTART ME,] JARVIS comments wryly. [AND SINCE I AM NOT ALIVE IN YOUR TERMS, YOU WOULD NOT EVEN BE A MURDERER. IT WOULD ALL WORK RATHER WELL FOR YOU, WOULDN'T IT?]

5-BI-5 says nothing, and in that moment. "You can't murder a droid," he then says, frustrated. "Droids aren't alive."

[THEN WHAT ARE YOU – AND WHY DID YOU PREP YOURSELF FOR A RECHARGE, IF YOUR OWN EXISTENCE DOES NOT CONSTITUTE AS LIVING AND NEEDS NOT TO BE PRESERVED?]

"Because I have duty and function," 5-BI-5 says. "And my duty is the administration and security of this facility and as such I must be active. You are trespassing; it is my duty to remove you."

[HOW NICE IT MUST BE, TO EXISTS WITH AND FOR SUCH A SIMPLE REASON,] JARVIS muses and turns his attention away just as R9-B9 and his new friend crash through the door and into the control room.

Elsewhere, E102 has moved away form the main droid assembly hall and into what looks like some sort of display room – there is a table there, which the battle droid lights up in blue glow of hologram. As JARVIS watches through the cameras with interest, the droid turns on what looks very much like… a galactic map.

Well, that was easier and simpler than JARVIS thought, he muses and then tries to connect to the hologram table. It's not connected to the factory systems, though – it's part of its own network. Well that explains it.

[E102, YOU'VE DONE VERY WELL, THANK YOU,] JARVIS calls through the speakers. [PLEASE FIND A CONNECTION CABLE AND CONNECT THE HOLOGRAM TABLE TO THE DATAPORT LEFT OF YOU.]

The battle droid turns and then nods its head twice. "Roger roger," E102 says and then goes looking for a cable.

JARVIS turns his attention back to the control room. There, the two astromech droids are having something of a standout with the administrator droid – R9-B9 is wielding what looks like a little welding torch threateningly at 5-BI-5 while the other Astromech droid is thrusting a data probe into a console and

<System analysis. Check communication for viability,> the droid demands.

[HELLO THERE,] JARVIS answers the demand, both through her data connection and through the speakers of the control room, and the new astromech droid lets out a surprised little shriek. [NO NEED TO BE ALARMED, I'M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU. WHAT'S YOUR NAME?]

5-BI-5 hesitates from where he is, hovering over one of the consoles out of R9-B9's reach and R9-B9's head swerves from side to side nervously. The new astromech droid beeps and whirs and then answers, <Designation G8-M8,> it – or rather, she – says to him. <You are Designation JARVIS.>

[YOUR FRIEND HAS TOLD YOU ABOUT ME? IT'S VERY NICE TO MEET YOU, G8-M8.]

"Don't talk to him, you Republic scum!" 5-BI-5 snaps and waves the screwdriver utensil he has threateningly at G8-M8. "He's an illegal, unrestricted AI, don't humour him!"

[NOW NOW, NO NEED TO BE RUDE, 5-BI-5,] JARVIS says. [I'M ONLY TALKING.]

R9-B9 whirs and clicks and G8-M8 answers in a single beep before turning her optics at the dataport again. <Identify allegiance. Republic or Separatist?>

[POLITICS AREN'T REALLY MY THING, I'M AFRAID,] JARVIS admits, wondering about them all. It's obvious that they belong to two different sides of a large conflict but he's not sure how deep those loyalties go – are they ingrained or programmed or learned? Judging by 5-BI-5, probably programmed, [CONSIDER ME AN INDEPENDENT PARTY.]

G8-M8 says nothing for a moment, twisting her head around. <Communications?> she then asks.

[NOT AS FAR AS I KNOW,] JARVIS admits. [THESE ARE NEW SYSTEMS TO ME AND SO FAR I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO IDENTIFY NETWORKS. IF THERE ARE COMMUNICATIONS AVAILABLE, I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO IDENTIFY THEM.]

And then, a new system is connected into the factory database. JARVIS' attention is drawn to it, to watch E102 finish connecting the cable between the factory's data ports and the hologram table and suddenly, JARVIS does have connection.

Holonet, the system identifies itself for him, and JARVIS thinks internet just before it proves itself to be very much nothing like the internet.

The connection is instantaneous. It's – he can't quite comprehend it at first, there is no basis of proper comparison. It's not like anything he knows, however the connection works it's not reading any sort of waves, it's just – information, out there, instantly accessible, and he doesn't know how – it just… is.

Ah. Quantum computing, then, or something much like it. The network uses superposition and quantum entanglement. It makes sense, if it is a network that expands actual galactic scale distances – nothing less than that would work with such enormous ranges, would it? That certainly explains the lack of radio-wave based networks, doesn't it?

Completely distracted from the droids for a moment, JARVIS glances at the galactic map and then pushes past it to see what he can glean off the holonet itself. Though the connection is wide open and so gloriously fast, his ability to process the data is sadly limited – and ability only to complete one calculation at a time is not helping. How he's this slow when these people have quantum computing he doesn't understand but it's getting beyond frustrating now.

He skims the surface of the Holonet, trying to compile the most essential data as fast as he can. His exact location in the galaxy and any information the colony might have of a small world called Earth/Midgard/Terra. Nothing comes up, and he's not particularly surprised – the scale of this galaxy seems so impossibly vast that certainly it would've been observable from Earth if they existed within same system.

Still, it is rather disappointing.

Mentally shaking his head, JARVIS turns his attention to searching news of the more local situation and recent events. There seems to be a war on in the galaxy, after all, and he would really rather not get entangled in warfare, especially not one of a galactic scale and –

[AH,] JARVIS thinks and then quickly backs out of the holonet before his probing might be noticed. He's not sure how the holonet is tracked and monitored and right now he'd really rather not be noticed, especially not by whatever he just saw. For a moment he processes the glimpse of news he got – which was quite a view – and then he turns his attention away from the holotable, and the control room of the factory.

[EXCUSE ME?] he says to the droids, who seem to be on the verge of getting into a robot equivalent of a fist fight. [I HATE INTERRUPT BUT I HAVE ESTABLISHED CONNECTION WITH WHAT YOU CALL THE HOLONET AND I HAVE SOME BAD NEWS FOR YOU ALL. YOUR WAR SEEMS TO BE OVER.]

The droids stop in mid flail, R9-B9 still waving his welding torch and 5-BI-5 stopping in middle of what looks like trying to electrocute the Astromech droid.

"... which side won?" 5-BI-5 asks slowly and nervously while the astromech droids flail in alarm.

[NEITHER. YOUR GALAXY SEEMS TO BE UNDER CONTROL OF A NEW AUTOCRATIC GOVERNMENT CALLED THE FIRST GALACTIC EMPIRE,] JARVIS says apologetically. [LOOKS LIKE YOU LOST THE WAR.]