“Excuse me?” RA-7E said in a slightly perplexed tone. He paused all other internal cognitive functions as he attempted to solely process what the Admiral was going on about. He was clearly right in assuming that something was out of the ordinary today.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” the technician said, pulling a small spanner from one of the pockets on his jumpsuit, “but do you mind if I ask why, sir?”
“To an extent I do,” the Admiral said taking on a more stern visage, “let’s just say I have been contacted by my superiors to decrypt some transcripts, but the language that the documents are formatted in is a rather… controversial one.”
The mechanic shrugged as he walked over to RA-7E, who was still looking at both men in sheer confusion, “it’s just standard repair protocol to ask, sir, there’s no requirement for someone of your station to give an answer.”
“I was not-” RA-7E began to speak up, but was cut off by the technician who seemed completely oblivious to his plight.
“Although another reason I ask, sir, is that it makes my job a whole lot easier when I know exactly what I’m looking for beforehand.”
The Admiral nodded, “don’t worry about that. I don’t need him rewired. I simply need his manufacturer’s failsafes deactivated. Arakyd was rather careful about limiting the number of actions his model could perform, as to optimize tactical prowess.”
The technician shrugged again and removed RA-7E’s back plating, much to the droid’s dismay.
“I would really like to know what language the documents are written in before we proceed,” the droid protested, going through his memory banks to try and locate any forbidden languages. Aside from a few ancient religious dialects and the original language of the Chiss, he found none.
“If the message is in Old Chiss, Admiral Bennet, it can still most likely be translated by using the Standard Chiss dialect as they are very similar. There is no need for any sort of unnecessary override.”
The mechanic looked back at the Admiral once more as RA-7E detected a foreign object entering his central neural wiring harness. The Admiral simply nodded, ignoring the droid’s protests, “do it.”
RA-7E felt something wash over his circuits that he could only equate to the human emotion, “fear.” He didn’t know what it would feel like to have his failsafes removed, and he preferred to never know.
Would it change him? How would he process all of the forbidden information? What other things were hidden away behind the failsafe?
He began to object again. “I really don’t-“
But suddenly RA-7E could no longer speak, nor could he think, at least in the traditional manner he had grown accustomed to. Instead, he felt a perplexing “chill” as a stream of cold, foreign numbers, words, and other values began to rush their way up from his back to the top of his chromium head. The amount of previously barred information he was receiving was far too overwhelming, and his processor quickly overheated as his ability to perceive the computations became fuzzy at best.
His sight became like a hideous sound as white as the snowy plains of Vandor, sound became like a luminous sight as black as the depths of the Maw, and in a fraction of an instant, he could access… no, he could understand it all.
Removing the override had completely altered the way he processed information. Alongside seeing images in his cybernetic mind, he also saw streams of data and text scrolling in every which direction. And he could seemingly process all of it with ease.
None of it made sense, and all of it made sense. This superseded his tactical programming tenfold. And he wanted to learn more. So much more.
And suddenly with a blink of light and an indistinguishable popping noise, he was back in the Admiral’s quarters.
Everything seemed the same again, although he could now draw upon database memories he never knew he possessed. He immediately began running diagnostics to determine everything that had been unlocked. The most interesting of it all being 15 unique manufacturers protocols that he could not quite comprehend. He would have to ask the Admiral about them when he got the chance.
The technician had already been dismissed, and RA-7E realized that his back plating was securely reattached. The Admiral walked over to the droid and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No sir,” RA-7E said, focusing on the new strings of text materializing within his internal field of vision, “it was actually quite pleasant. But what now? Where are the documents in need of translation?”
The Admiral sighed and looked around the empty room with sorrowful eyes. “Well, you see, there aren’t actually any documents…”
The droid quietly stared forward, still analyzing and comprehending everything that was going on inside his robotic mind.
“I needed the failsafe gone because I have a favor to ask of you. It’s something I know Arakyd Industries did not intend for you to ever be capable of.”
“And what is that?” RA-7E said, tilting his head down towards his superior.
The Admiral pursed his lips for a moment.
“Murder.”
“Come again?” RA-7E asked, perplexed at the proposition.
“You remember Vice Admiral Cho?” Admiral Bennet said before leaning his head down and sighing, “of course you do. You remember on this bloody ship.”
He looked back up at his tactical droid, “well, he’s doing really well. Almost too well. And I think he’s trying to replace me. Get me fired. Make me look bad. A disgrace to my family name. And I can’t stand for that.”
The Admiral scratched the back of his head, “I’m getting kind of old… not that I’m losing my touch, but people’s perception of me is changing. They think youth brings something that I just don’t have anymore. And none are more youthful and cunning than the Vice Admiral. So I… I need Cho gone. Permanently”
“Sir,” RA-7E said, digging through all of his directives, “even without my failsafes, my default coding still prohibits me from intentionally taking a life.”
“I know, I know,” the Admiral said leaning in even closer to the droid, “I needed the technician to manage the first part, but I can handle the rest from here.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Activate Protocol 14.”
Suddenly, one of the new protocols that RA-7E had found he was unable to process in his initial scan of the unlocked information became incredibly clear. It was his directive to kill. His sole directive until it was fulfilled. Everything else he had just been processing was washed away, replaced only by this single directive. A cold, mechanical desire.
Kill.
“Are you able to kill another lifeform now?”
“Affirmative.”
“So you understand that I want you to take the life of Vice Admiral Cho?”
“Affirmative.”
“Good. Now, I’m going to need you to be incredibly secretive about this. You cannot do it whilst anyone else is around. I’ve already ordered maintenance to seal off this section of the ship for ‘repairs’ today, so you’ll just need to find a way to get him up here and away from everyone else. Do it discreetly, and make it look like you are nothing more than a faulty unit. The blame for Cho’s death will be split between you and our little technician friend from earlier, understand?”
“Affirmative.”
“Good,” the Admiral said, releasing a long pent up sigh, “then get going. I don’t care if you have to wait until tonight, just finish him while he’s in his room.”
“Affirmative.”
A moment later, RA-7E found himself back outside of the Admiral’s cabin.
That had been the single most bizarre and confusing moment in RA-7E’s rather short synthetic lifespan. But things were now immensely clear. He had a solitary directive, which made him incredibly… happy.
Maybe it was closer to relief.
At its statistical core, all he would have to do to complete his goal is find the Vice Admiral and strike him on the back of the head while he wasn’t looking. A few more hits after he is down and the organic will be dead for sure. Then RA-7E would then be impounded and turned into scraps for being a faulty or tampered with unit guilty of murdering a superior, and the assignment would be complete.
Turned into scraps? That doesn’t seem right. But that is my sole objective, so it must be.
Still, something out of place, an idea or string of conflicting information that he couldn’t quite shed. An illogical, or possibly logical objection he couldn’t quite pinpoint that sat in the back of his mind as he made his way down the slate gray corridor, but he would not let it interfere with his primary directive.
He caroused through the crew logs and took note of personnel patterns. At this time the Vice Admiral was usually in the Prospector’s mess hall, receiving his daily dose of sustenance and coffiene.
RA-7E ran through a few thousand scenarios in his head, attempting to figure out the best and most believable reason for getting the officer to go back to his own room with him.
When he arrived at the conclusion most statistically sound, he paused. Based on his current calculations, it had a 87.4% chance of success, the closest he could come to perfection. That would be the route he needed to take. And he needed to be successful.
What good was a droid that couldn’t fulfill their designated purpose?
RA-7E made an about-face and strode his way back towards the living quarters. If this worked, Vice Admiral Cho was as good as dead.
***
RA-7E made his way into the mess, pushing past a number of officers and helmetless soldiers who were quickly collecting their things and rushing out the door behind him. The lights in the room had grown oddly dim, but that detail was now inconsequential to the now tactical-turned-assassin droid.
Cho was gathering his utensils and dishes when RA-7E approached. “Sir, I have some urgent news.”
“Not now, 7E…” the young officer said as he hurriedly grabbed his hat and began to leave the room.
“Someone has broken into your room,” RA-7E called out after him.
The man abruptly stopped before turning back to face the droid, “are you sure?”
“Yes, Vice Admiral, it is my job to know these things. Would I ever lie to you?”
The officer stared into RA-7E’s reflective, bulbous eyes for a moment, before shaking his head and blinking four or five times in rapid succession. “No, of course not, buddy. But I’m already paranoid enough as it is.”
He snatched the comlink from his belt, “Captain Moore, you’re in charge of the bridge until either I or Admiral Bennet arrive. Keep us afloat.” He then motioned to the droid, “let’s go take a look. I may need you to create an incident report for me.”
“Affirmative,” RA-7E replied and the two headed for the elevator, the Vice Admiral with an unusual haste to his step.
The ride up was quiet as always, RA-7E repeatedly running through the scenario in his head every millisecond or so. There was no way he could fail his objective. Nearly every preventable variable had been taken care of. One swift blow to the temple of Vice Admiral Cho’s head, and another one to finish him off, and it would all be over. He would finally be able to fulfill a purpose. His purpose.
But if his purpose was to eliminate the Vice Admiral, why had he not simply done it sooner? What had he been doing up until this point? His memory before today seemed… fuzzy. Strange.
Now was not the time to process such things, but it was something he would most definitely have to revisit later. He stored the question away in his memory banks and continued to walk his prey towards their final destination.
By this point, they were nearing the door to Cho’s quarters, and the Vice Admiral could see that it was intentionally forced ajar. In reality, RA-7E had only spliced into the door main controls and frozen it in place before it could slide completely open. Still, it seemed to be convincing enough for the task at hand.
The Vice Admiral stepped inside and saw his things strewn about the room. He sighed in frustration and began digging through the towels and trinkets that littered the floor, meticulously placed there to simulate a break in by his soon to be killer. He was clearly searching for his most prized possessions in an attempt to confirm that they were not stolen or tampered with.
Now was the time. Cho’s life would be over momentarily. The directive would be complete.
The Vice Admiral crouched over to dig through the ploy of a mess that the protocol droid had manufactured only minutes ago. That was when RA-7E slowly and quietly raised his mechanical arm.
It would only take a second for it to collide with the back or side of the human’s head. With the force he was able to extrude, weight of his complex mechanical arm, and the height at which it was raised, it no longer mattered where he struck.
It was finally done-
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