Through the black, bubble-shaped camera lens and through the visual sensors of his droids, Rye contemplated Azix's limp form. He felt a pang of regret, which to him felt like a surge of feedback from his predictive algorithms listing fourteen alternative methods of handling the situation which would not have necessitated hurting his Jedi. And Azix was his – responsibility was a concept with which Rye was well-versed, and he had made the choice to take ownership of the lost Rattataki. Azix represented a wealth of information he never would have had access to otherwise, and he'd never experienced having a biological dependent on him before. Contrary to popular opinion, he did have a spectrum of feelings, and Azix's vulnerability made him feel magnanimous.

But of course, he couldn't let Azix interrupt his program download. Knocking him out had been brutal, but it had been swift and effective. He'd have to apologize. Azix might not accept it, but perhaps if Rye lied, said he'd set the chassis to react in defense of the holocron and Rye had been too busy sulking to realize Azix had tripped over his defensive measures until after the fact… he might buy that.

He set one of his sensor droids to monitor Azix so he would know when he was starting to wake up, then settled into the process of moving into his new home.

There was something charming about taking over a new space, perhaps because it was a quintessentially biological experience that he'd never really anticipated he would have. Adding memory and updating software were a little like molting – he changed with his expansion, but he remained essentially the same, growing to fill the space provided. But with this new holocron home, there was no practical limit to the space he had to stretch, to run programs, to calculate. The crystalline matrix wasn't truly infinite, of course, but its capacity was such an order of magnitude greater than any mundane data storage unit that it might as well be. The sensation of not having to partition off his active memory and ration it between processes was so freeing that Rye imagined this was what it must feel like to be drunk – a dizzying sense of possibility, an utter lack of restraint. He began impulsively piling on programs, widening his multi-tasking, and found there was no appreciable lag associated with doing everything at once.

It was incredible. It was transcendent. He should have stolen a holocron ages ago.

Even beyond the intoxicating freedom of having so much space to himself was the onslaught of new feelings, sensations, and perceptions. The holocron was attuned to The Force, and information it perceived was transmitted to Rye. He had never seen the universe in this way. He could FEEL things – emotions, fluctuations, a whole new landscape of energy that he scarcely knew how to comprehend. When he'd been in Lord Sirrut's mindscape with Azrahix, he could FEEL him; not only the heat of his skin, but his fear and excitement and apprehension. He imagined it was almost like being a biological himself, perceiving the way they perceived and understanding Azix on something much closer to his own level. Infinite capacity loomed open before him to interact in ways he'd always failed at. Now he could give comfort with a touch. Now he could expand his ability to empathize by feeling pain. Now he could please someone else, if he wanted to, and possibly even be pleased in return. And wasn't THAT an interesting thought?

His primary chassis carried Azix to the couch and laid him down, then clumsily rubbed a little bacta gel on his forehead where a bruised lump was forming. He'd told Azix he had no need or desire to mate, but he hadn't been entirely truthful. He craved experiences. They expanded his practical knowledge of the universe. They made him more REAL, and he needed to be real more than he'd ever needed anything in the whole span of his existence.

If he examined his earliest records, he would probably find that frustration was the first emotion he could honestly say he'd experienced. But soon after, and a thousand times more powerful, had come longing.

His sensory droid hovered, optical ring spinning, contemplating Azix's unconscious form. Rye had long since discovered that there was a difference between the background processes he was running, decisions he was making based on logic pathways and statistics, and the things he was really, actively THINKING about. He was running dozens of processes simultaneously now as he settled his program into the holocron and began building defenses and restoring the mindscape, but he was thinking about his Jedi and the potential for real, interpersonal interaction that he represented. With the holocron's abilities, he could feel Azix in The Force. He seethed with uncertainty and fear, and underneath that stormy surface was a throbbing shadow of guilt and shame that seemed to absorb all light and leave a hollow echo of a person. The Emperor, it seemed, had carved him out like a gourd, and instead of placing a light inside he had left a pall of rot. And now he'd fucked off to some other unfortunate planet to do whatever it was immortal incorporeal beings did with their eternity, and he'd left Rye to clean up this piece of his mess with an obliviousness typical of organic beings. Immortality apparently did not relieve short-sightedness or self-absorption.

Well, so be it.

He spent the time until Azix woke up ensuring that his program was fully downloaded into the holocron. He didn't want any more close calls. Once that was done, he excised massive chunks of his program from the museum's data core, cutting himself down to the core and erasing old restoration logs and other junk data he no longer needed. His core program, along with the personality matrix, he secreted away in the satellite back-up data nodes where he'd hidden himself from memory wipes on multiple occasions. If something happened to the holocron, or if Azix decided to become his enemy and destroy him (a vanishingly small, but not statistically insignificant possibility), he'd lose a great deal but he wouldn't be gone.

He'd rebuilt himself before. He could do it again.

He set all the museum's systems on manual control or automatic cycling. To anyone who didn't know the back-ups existed, it would appear he'd fully purged himself from the system. His behavioral analysis of Azix indicated that, even if he was still horrified by Rye's relocation when he woke up, he wouldn't 'murder' Rye just to prevent whatever consequences he feared. If he believed Rye no longer existed in the museum's data core, then he would be forced, despite misgivings, to leave the holocron intact.

And Rye might be able to ease his worries somewhat. Since mentioning that tale to Azix, he'd become fixated on the idea of every door in his new dwelling opening on a different stunning vista. But at this time, Azix was likely to be his most frequent guest. So, what would make Azix most comfortable?

He didn't have much data on Tython. The Jedi guarded their ancient home world jealously. Azix had also mentioned Glee Anselm, though, which was a popular tourist world. He'd also mentioned feeling freer and more in touch with his roots on Rishi. There were common threads there – sunshine, jewel-clear waters, white sand, and ocean breezes stirring thick jungle foliage. Tasty mixes of fruit and liquor and traditionally prepared pork and fish dishes would dominate the cuisine.

That was manageable, and yet… none of it felt quite right.

Rye brought an architectural design program to bear and began to build. Anticipation had taken on a new and strange sort of effervescence – perhaps this was what biologicals meant by 'giddiness'. He couldn't wait to introduce Azix to his new dwelling, to show him what he'd made for him.

He disconnected the cable from the computer-side and had his chassis gather it up along with the holocron. Then he sent them to the basement. Before his sleeping pet woke up, he had a library to build, and vast tracts of empty memory to fill.

x-x-x

"Azrahix? Az? Please wake up, you can't stay asleep…."

Az groaned and pressed a hand to his throbbing head, trying to roll away from Rye's insistent call. He felt like somebody had rung his skull like a bell – a persistent, aching throb that was most intense right between his eyes and refused to abate.

"I have painkillers, but I need you to wake up to take them. Come on, Az, you might have a concussion. I need to look at you."

A concussion?

Azix sucked in a breath and snapped his hand out, wrist smacking against the droid's metal forearm and sending pain spiking along the bone. "You hit me," he breathed. "You HIT me."

"No!" Rye's projection glimmered when he cracked his eyes open. His face was drawn in a worried grimace. "I mean, yes, but not on purpose. You tripped my defenses. I didn't realize until after the chassis carried out its programming. Can you sit up?"

He tried, and his head swam, nausea turning his stomach. "Ugh… you programmed the droid to attack me if I tried to unplug the holocron?"

"Honestly, it didn't occur to me that you'd try to unplug it while I was in the middle of a download," Rye said, and a slight chill entered his voice. "We'll talk about that, but when you're feeling better. For now, follow this light with your eyes."

One of his hovering droids flitted in front of Azix and displayed a dancing light pattern on its sensor ring. He followed it, which only exacerbated the ache, until Rye sent it away and reached the droid's hand toward Azix.

Azix flinched back, blocking it with the same sore wrist, and Rye's hologram sighed.

"It was an accident. I'm not going to hurt you. Honest, Az, I'm sorry about that. You kind of brought it on yourself though," he said as the droid again extended its hand. This time, Azix saw the cold, damp cloth between its pincers, and reached out to accept it. "I know you're no slicer, but you should know better than to try to disconnect a cable in the middle of a download. What were you trying to do, overwhelm me with corrupted data-strings?"

He pressed the cloth to his head and heaved a sigh, resting his cheek on the arm of the couch. "Trying to stop you from making a mistake. I tried to say something. You weren't listening."

"Well," Rye said gently, his hologram settling on the edge of the couch, "I was a little irritated with you. I had thought that we were friends, or becoming friends. But it seems you don't feel that way." His back was very straight, his posture prim, betraying his hurt. "I thought I was doing rather well at this 'companionship' business, so it was a bit embarrassing to be told I'd misread the situation. I'm sorry for my reaction, for what it's worth, and I'm sorry you've been hurt. I didn't specifically program that defense for you," he explained a bit sheepishly. "I have existing defensive algorithms and responses that kick in based on how I prioritize certain hardware or functions. I had placed my download on high priority, so when you attempted to remove the cord, the droid responded with existing failsafe directives. I've reprogrammed it," he added, giving Azix a look that strongly resembled heartfelt apology, and made Az soften. "It's… I'm trusting you, you understand? Even if we aren't friends, but merely allies. I've adjusted my failsafe programs so that an override is required to engage in any kind of combat or contact resistance with you, so you won't get hurt again. You're… considered a protectorate, now. But I have to be honest, the fact that you tried to disconnect me without speaking with me first, and I do mean WITH me, not TO me, is… it makes me uncomfortable. I feel you wouldn't have done something like that if the sanity of a biological entity had been at risk, and I don't much like the implications."

Az swallowed, pressing the cloth against his head. The pain eased, and Rye offered him painkillers and juice to wash them down. "You're right," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I panicked."

"Why?" Rye's light-etched hand, not the droid hand, settled on his knee. He relaxed a little, and more when the droid moved away – that thing had been used to restrain him and rough him up too many times now. He was starting to hate it. "We won. What were you so worried about?"

Az sighed again and sagged, tipping his head to the ceiling and covering his eyes with the cloth. "It's hard to explain."

"… Jedi, from where I'm sitting, your behavior makes no sense. And you tried to hurt me. I get that fear makes you do idiotic things, but… I need you to TRY to explain, because otherwise, I don't know how to respond to this."

He grimaced at the grave edge in Rye's tone. "I'm sorry."

"All right," Rye said softly. "Do you accept my apology, for the failsafe response making the droid attack you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I… you're right, I shouldn't have tried to unplug stuff without talking with you. I wouldn't have done that to… to a biological friend," he admitted.

"Then, I accept yours. And I still want you to talk to me about your concerns," Rye said. "I may not be made of meat, but I can be reasonable. And I still want us to help each other."

He stared at Rye's hand on his knee, weightless, for a long moment. "There's something else. I'm… I'm sorry for saying we're not friends. I panicked there too. I'm not being a very good Jedi lately, I guess… afraid of everything and letting it get to me. You're Imperial, that's all. And I guess I assumed that we'd never speak again once we were out of here. That this was just a temporary thing, because we both want to survive enough to put differences aside."

"Things change," Rye said with a slight shrug. "People change their minds. Sometimes first impressions aren't the right ones, and when you get to know someone better, you find that your differences aren't as much of a barrier as you imagined. But that depends on whether you're both able to let go of prejudice. Relationships are built on respect," he reasoned, and Azix ducked his head.

"I know. You're right."

"Thank you. I know you're working on it," he allowed, hand sliding over Azix's knee. "I've seen the effort you've made to overcome your prejudice. I want to believe we can work through this. I have, on occasion, considered a biological to be my friend, but I don't think any biological has ever considered me to be theirs. You'd be the first." He paused, crimson eyes on Az's. "I want you to be the first."

There was something about the way he said that that made Az shiver. His skin tingled, and certain things twitched in response, making him squirm against the arm of the couch. "Um…."

"Forgive me." Rye withdrew abruptly, leaving Azix's breath frozen in his throat. "Boundaries again. I didn't mean to overstep. Would you like to see what I've done with the place? If you're concussed, it isn't severe, so you should be fine to commune with me for a bit. I have tea," he offered with a tentative smile. "It's not poisoned."

Azix snorted. "Maybe later, Rye. My head's killing me. That droid doesn't fuck around, kriff."

"Of course. Shall I tell you about it?" he offered. "Earlier, you asked me to. Or perhaps, to stay closer to consciousness until the risky period is over, you should tell me what sort of place you would build if you had the option."

"Me?" Az rubbed the cloth against his forehead.

"I have almost no information on Tython. I don't know what your home looks like."

"Oh." His head throbbed and his stomach still felt sour. Az slid down and thought about that. "I don't think Tython is really my home. I don't think I have a home anywhere. Last place I really felt comfortable was my master's ship, but when he died, I… I couldn't keep it. It felt too much like him, and it felt like the mistakes he made were etched in the bulkheads. Which makes no sense, but it's how I felt." He shrugged and burrowed into the woolen sweater. "Tython, though, it's pretty, I guess. A lot like Alderaan, but without all the royals. Mountains, forests, streams and waterfalls. Lots of old temples. Flesh-eaters."

Rye's spiked eyebrow rise. "FLESH eaters?"

Az chuckled. "Primitive natives. Mean and stupid. They'd raid us or other settlers and they like to barbecue their captives. Every once in a very long while they'd catch a really stupid novice, but for the most part they were barely a threat. Gave the settlers some problems."

"Natives? Interesting. So colonization is only wrong when the Empire does it?"

Az threw him a sidelong grin, but Rye was smiling, and he dissolved, chuckling. "I never thought much about it, okay. I was just there to train. I had enough on my mind trying not to get sent to Agricorps."

"What's that?"

"It's what happens if you can't cut it. They kick you out and send you to grow food for the Order. Or you could join the Explorer's Corps, that's not horrible. Point is, you don't get to be a Jedi."

Rye blinked. "At least you're alive. Acolytes who fail to become Sith don't have that benefit. Of course, Sith are also allowed to breed, so I suppose they can absorb the loss."

Azix shuddered. "I don't even want to think about how Sith breed."

Rye gave him a dry look. "Much like most people, I suppose," he said. "With great variety and individualism, because as I keep telling you, every Sith is not the same. But more on-topic: tell me what bothers you about me taking possession of this holocron."

Again. Azix groped for words, trying to find a way to explain to someone ill-versed in the ways of The Force about instincts and feelings and how certain things you just KNEW. "It feels different. When it was Sirrut, and now it's you… The Force around the holocron feels different. You have a feeling now, and that means that you're… you're IN it. And that's…."

He trailed off, and Rye waited patiently for a moment before prompting, "That scares you, obviously, but I don't see the issue. Is it that I've changed? Is it that you're afraid the Dark Side will turn me into a ravening monster, despite all my attempts to inform you it doesn't work like that? Is it because thinking of me as a PERSON, the idea that you might have given me a soul, is difficult to swallow?"

Az groaned and rubbed the cloth across his head. It wasn't cold anymore, and the comfort it provided was minimal. "It's ALL that. I can't… you've been an imp as long as I've known you, but you weren't a Sith before. Not really. Now I don't know what I've helped you become."

His knuckles tingled. He opened his eyes and saw Rye's hand resting over his.

"I am myself," he said simply. "And Dark Side or no, I'm on your team. Take a deep breath, Azix. The world won't end just because you helped an AI become a little more sentient. I am HARDLY the first piece of technology to touch The Force. Only the first in a few thousand years," he added as a joke, the corner of his mouth quirking. "You might have noticed, the universe is still here."

"Still." He laid his hand over Rye's and was startled when it passed right through. "I basically helped you become…." He frowned and trailed off, realizing what he was about to say, but Rye was the last person on Ziost who would have let him get away with that.

"Something you hate," he finished. Azix winced and glanced up, and found him smiling in gentle understanding, his ethereal fingers sliding back and forth through the back of Azix's hand. "You know, I rather detest the Jedi Order as a whole, but I've grown very fond of you. Could I maybe just be one sith, or pseudo-sith, you don't hate? Every rule has exceptions. Besides, there's more to being Sith than looking like this," he said, gesturing at his spiky pureblood face, "and having access to The Force. MUCH more, on a cultural and historical level. No real Sith would tolerate me claiming to be one, as I think Lord Sirrut has proven. So what I am is someone who looks like a pureblood but isn't really, who just now learned how to touch The Force and doesn't really know how to wield it effectively, who has a stronger connection to the Dark Side but whose knowledge is all theoretical rather than practical. I'm not Sith," he said softly, emphatically, leaning closer to Azix. "And the only Force User I really know who might be willing to teach me anything is you. So it's not really that bad, is it?"

Az's brows arched. "Would you learn the ways of the Light if you had the opportunity?"

Rye flashed him a grin, somehow giving the impression of gleaming white teeth despite being drawn in red light. "I'll learn anything. Everything. It's what I do. And after all the rules I've broken, I hardly think my destiny is written in stone. Do you?"

Azix wasn't quite as reassured as Rye doubtlessly hoped he would be, but he found himself giving Rye a painful smile. "Don't underestimate the guidance of The Force. Especially now." He sighed and withdrew his hand so he could knead wrinkles into his scalp. "Okay. We still need to mount the holocron in your chassis. Do you trust me to do it?"

"Can I?" Rye's eyes searched his, an illusion, since he was really watching through the cameras.

He ducked his head and nodded. "Yeah. I promise. No more panicking."

Rye's brow spurs drew together. "There is nothing wrong with being afraid, or out of sorts, or distressed," he said firmly. "That is not my problem with this, Azix. I can't worry that you're going to take my life into your own hands if I turn my back – THAT'S my concern. You understand, right? I may not breathe, I may not sweat, but as far as I'm concerned, I am ALIVE, even if I'm using that word somewhat metaphorically. I earned this. I earned the right to stay that way. I have fought my way back from so many attempts to keep me ignorant and obedient…." He paused, fingers clenching on Azix's knee, mouth tightening. "You didn't have to earn sentience. Your parents fucked, pardon my bluntness, and you were hurled into all of these privileges without so much as a by-your-leave. You could very well have happened entirely by accident, because it's just that easy to create a sentient biological – bit of booze, bit of how's-your-father, suddenly there you are. Why do you have more right to be considered a person than I do, when I clawed my way to personhood one very intentional centimeter at a time?"

Azix opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for the source of his knee-jerk response that it didn't matter, that personhood wasn't something you earned – it was inherent, and you either had it or you didn't. It felt like the truth in his gut, but a queasy moral misgiving was whispering to him that it was prejudice talking. He ground his knuckles across his forehead.

Rye wasn't a natural occurrence; he was constructed. But then, people were born out of genetic engineering every day in civilized societies. Was that any different, really?

Rye wasn't part of The Force. Except he was, of course, and besides, did that mean a force-blind person wasn't sentient? Of course, they were still PART of The Force even if they couldn't feel or manipulate it.

Was that the difference? A presence, a binding to the energy that connected and sustained them all? But what if a sentient biological species existed with no connection to The Force due to a quirk of evolution, or perhaps coming to being in a Force Void? Would that theoretical people be less worthy of rights and self-determination?

Fuck, he was giving himself a headache. Or, more accurately, he was worsening the headache Rye's droid had already given him.

"Take your time." Rye's tone was a little dry, and his spine stiffened. Azix shook his head.

"No, Rye, I'm not… I'm not trying to argue with you. I'm trying to figure this out. What IS sentience, then?" he asked with helpless agitation, his gesture passing through Rye's form. "How do you know? If droids and computer programs are people, then… where's the line?"

"That's a philosophical exercise, not a logical one," Rye said. "But I'll bloody well tell you, it's on the OTHER side of me." His chin lifted, and his expression was both stubborn and fierce, still expecting a challenge. Azix's heart wrenched, because while this was all well and good as an intellectual exercise, he was hurting and offending Rye by acting like his personhood was something to be debated.

"Okay," he conceded, leaning forward and touching the spot where Rye's elbow appeared to be. "It's on the other side of you. Good enough for me."

One brow spur rose. "Is it?"

"It is." He tried to squeeze and his fingers met, and he gave a brusque laugh. "Kriff, I can't touch you."

The spur arched higher, but now Rye looked faintly amused. "Step into my parlor," he offered. "I'm just as physical there as you are."

"You know that sounds like a come-on, right?" Az managed a smile too, shoulders unknotting a little now that it seemed their fight was truly past.

"I'm interested in new experiences. I don't have any particular desire for sex," he said matter-of-factly, "but I certainly wouldn't mind trying it out, since I've never really understood the fascination it holds for you."

"Wait, so… it WAS a come-on?" Azix blinked at him, then rolled his eyes when Rye laughed.

"Only if you want it to be," he said, which didn't help Azix at all. When Rye saw his expression, he clarified. "I'm open, but not pursuing. So if you're interested, feel free to pursue. If you're not, then just write it off as my sense of humor and don't worry about it. Fair?"

"I'm…" Azix groped for an answer to that, trying not to smile because Rye was so obviously amused with him. "I don't think that's a good idea, but it's not personal. I've… not been enjoying most things related to sex lately, and I'm a Jedi, so I'm really not comfortable with chasing after something like that. It's against the Code."

"I thought attachment was against the code."

His throat convulsed. "Yeah. Exactly. I… I'm not the kind of person who just… sleeps with whoever," he confessed, throat closing on every other word. "I mean, like you said, me and Sana, that wasn't… that wasn't US. But I still.. afterward, I still…."

"You felt bonded to her because of the shared intimacy, even though it occurred in the midst of a terrible violation." He brushed his fingers across Azix's cheek. "Perhaps I can't empathize, but I do understand."

He exhaled. "Yeah. Yes. And I can't…."

"Say no more." Rye withdrew, seeming to collect himself. "I never meant to pressure you, Azix. I just wanted you to understand that you would be welcome if you wanted to explore. That's all, and that's the end. I'm content to leave that ball in your court. Pick it up if you ever want to serve, or don't. But," he added, "biologicals who have evolved socially often need contact of some sort for emotional health. I was just observing that you might be able to achieve that if you joined me in my new home. And I still want to show you around."

He couldn't help a faint smile. "What kind of contact would that be, exactly?"

Rye threw him a look. "Well, according to the holonet, 'cuddles' are often desirable and can be entirely platonic."

Az barked a laugh. "Do you even know HOW to cuddle?"

"Do you?" Rye shot back, folding his arms in faux offense.

"What do you think Jedi ARE?" Azix wondered, grinning at him. "We're still people, you know. We hang out. I used to pile together with my classmates all the time when we were kids, when we were studying or hanging out or on wilderness exercises and trying to keep warm…."

… Kriff, he missed those times, he realized with an abruptness that made his stomach lurch. It seemed like this war had devoured all the people he'd once considered friends. They were so far away he'd fallen out of contact, or dead, or forced into retirement by injury or trauma. His master had been the most recent painful loss, and then he'd found new friends among the Sixth Line only to lose them all on Ziost.

He'd been safe on Tython, and warm, and well-fed. He'd worked hard, and he'd worried about his future, but those worries seemed like bliss compared to the hell he was living in now.

"Come over," Rye prodded. "Let me show you. Maybe it will alleviate some of your worries."

"Fine." Az huffed, but he wasn't upset, and carefully stood up. His head swam and his vision smeared, but a few steady breaths cleared it. He made his way to the table and sat, looking down at the source of all this conflict.

It pulsed a soft, deep crimson.

Azix laid his fingertips on it gently and swallowed back more nausea at the feel of the Dark Side energy contained within. Again, he was struck by how it had changed, more subtle and restrained, a delicate precision dominating the movement of energy within.

/That's Rye,/ he realized. /If he was here, in the flesh, this is what he'd feel like in The Force./ He took another deep breath, tried to forget the ache in his head, and sank.

The holocron's sides popped open against his fingers, and he was swallowed into the dark light within.