Sooooooo been away for a hot fucking minute. Yeah got classes and all that jaz. But, I got this little number for you guys for sticking around. More is coming I swear! got a few more arcs planned and even sequels in the work so yea not leaving this beast behind. thanks for sticking around and yea this isnt gonna be as word savy as the rest, sooooooooooooooooooo yea enjoy :)
-arh.
Ganthel System, 20 BBY, 300th Fleet, RL Workhorse
Commander Clicker. It still took a minute to get used to the sound of it.
Commander Clicker. Commander of a third of the 300th Fleet, and all the men and droids that entailed. A burden he had dreamed of.
And by the stars of of the core, what a burden it was.
He stood on the command bridge of his own Republic Battle-sphere, a captured Core Ship now resting in the cradle of a Lucrehulk class battleship.
The massive carrier had been known as formerly as CISS Nexali, according to the logs and the ship's call sign. But when Commander Clicker selected it as his headquarters while off duty, he rechristened it the Workhorse.
Captured two years ago during the Battle of Ryloth - Stars, had it really been two whole years? - the ship had served largely as storage for droids that did not yet have a use; old B1s and the spare parts and broken bits of other droids that cluttered up the smaller, more maneuverable ships that were more useful to the war effort.
That was then, however.
Once Clicker took charge, he set to work.
Every single droid on board was itemized, reprogramed, and set to work.
B1s served on the planet below, either as scrap or as labor for the factories. An amount remained on board to man the ship of course, as well as do maintenance.
Although, as Clicker looked with heavy disappointment from the bridge to the arms of the battleship, he noted that had not gone as planned.
The first task the droids had been set up with was scouring the Seperatist Hex Icon from the hull of the ship. Fine. Not too difficult, but would require minor aesthetic repairs of the High Command decided to line the ships up for inspection.
The next part was coloring the ships in the white and maroon of the Republic ships. No issue there, a few shipments of paint from Kuat of Correllia and they were fine.
The hitch was repainting the Republic Roundel on the ship.
The general fear with using the droids was their logic processors. The droids were directly inserted a software that made it clear they were to follow their creators loyalty and without any thought of betrayal. The trick was replacing the simple information in their little processors that told them that instead of the Republic being the enemy, it was the Separatists. To ensure that this would not backfire, the virus would, upon taking hold of a droid, bombarded with with pro-republic propaganda. Well, calling it propaganda was a bit unfair. It was more along the lines of persuasive information. However, when Clicker first designed it with a few other fellow technology minded Clones, they pumped it choc full of information, and included databases to scan the holonet for more should it run out.
The result was incredibly patriotic droids. Too patriotic.
And that was how he was sighing, while looking at a pair of B1s mag-locked to the hull of the ship, scrubbing large Republic Roundels from the transparisteel barrier.
He turned to the commander.
"Alert me if there are any issues with the maintenance crews, I will be on the floor."
"[Sir.]" the droid responded with a nod of it's bony head.
Ah, the other delightful response from the virus; it eliminated the harmless, but annoying bug of repeating confirmation messages.
B1s were not designed for war. That was clear enough from the design.
Clicker lifted his welding visor and removed the upper chestplate of the B1 he had spread out on a workbench.
They had armor, that was to be sure. They did not feel pain, and could survive a few wild shots. No doubt a boon for corridor firefights or repelling boarders.
Because that was their purpose, after all.
He set the metal sheet aside, marking points to be removed with bright paint; a rarity on the ship of black armored Clones.
Stretching, clicker looked out at his handiwork.
One of nearly every droid ever encountered by the 300th was laid out before him. B2s, Droidekas, Bxs, even some new little devil that they had never heard of; some little monster that would spend most of its time curled into a ball or trying to cannibalize the droids that attempted to dissect it.
Whatever the little chittering thing wielding the little buzzsaw was, it had managed to resist the virus, and would need to be analyzed in order to adapt the program.
But the pride and joy of his time was the Bxs.
These, he thought as he approached the table where one had regretfully been sacrificed to science, were droids made for war.
If droids could mate, it was the child of a B1 and B2 models. The lithe form of the B1 was evident in the design, with slender limbs, an even more compact torso than the B1, and those three fingered claws that seemed to be the mark of a Separatist droids. But the B2's absolute ferocity and strength were there too.
For an experiment, he allowed the boys to have an unwiped droid be activated, to see how many shots it could take before going down.
It took about five direct shots to the chest from their rifles, and at least two more once it was in close range to bring it down.
And it was smart, deadly smart.
The skull of this thing was almost entirely logistical processors and tactical analysis systems, attached to a pair of eyes with a HUD and with room to spare for heat sensitive scanners. A jewel of design.
It was a good thing that they were so expensive, at least so he had heard. These cost a fair bit more than your droning hull scrubber, but if they were any cheaper, than the war would be seriously matched.
And each ship had at least a squadron aboard to repel boarders, with each commandship having no fewer than a platoons worth aboard.
And with the amount of ships being captured and overrun by the 300th, the numbers of useful droids was beginning to rise.
So he had spoken to Shard and Tusk about the implications, and the usage of them on the front.
Shard was optimistic about the idea.
Tusk was not.
Though, Clicker did not begrudge the other Commander of his wariness. He was very much tied to the idea of the purity of the 300th. No other Clones other the XT line had been permitted to transfer to the 300th on the account of their unique cohesion that would clash with all else the other Clones knew and were used to. That was, how Shard pitched it to the High Command, and they seemed to have swallowed it without thinking; whatever worked to bring more captured ships to parade about on the Holonet would be tolerated.
But, Clicker could not ignore the numbers.
Twenty two dead over Ryloth. Ten dead on Ryloth. Two hundred on Geonosis's main landing, and at least that many in the final assault. One hundred dead on Mimban, with nearly five hundred wounded as their gunships crashed due to rough weather. Two squadrons of fighters dying in the firefight above Saleucami.
And as the war went on, it would only get worse. The numbers could only grow.
And there were no other XT Clones to replace them. They were, in essence, a dying breed.
He pressed the activation button next to one of the doors to one of the smaller workshops, entering once the loud hiss of the door stopped.
But what was the harm in patching up the errors of their enemies, to bolster their own numbers?
A trio of battle droids were powering down their welding torches and modification equipment, their newest creation ready for a paint job before it would join the first Experimental Auxiliary Trooper Regiment.
"How is progress?" Clicker asked the closest droid.
"[We just finished this unit here, Commander. It should be ready for stress testing once the metal has cooled.]"
"Any issues with the modifications?"
"[None, sir. The Oracle communication system was installed with no errors, but we do think it should be tested first.]"
"Understandable. Fetch my helmet."
"[Sir.]"
The clanking of the droids feet went slightly quiet as it went to the far side of the workhouse floor, but he returned swiftly with Clicker's helmet.
Pressing a key on his wrist comm, he slid the helmet on and activated the helmet's antenna.
He knew the text version of the software worked perfectly, but this would be a perfect time to test the verbal commands.
"XDT L1, Activate."
The commando droid squad leader sat up straight-backed and attentive, scanning its surroundings.
Clicker blinked, opening a text scroll to the side of his HUD.
[Order(s) Received. No error in execution-]
[Self Sustaining Protocol initiated {fin=none}, scanning for hostiles-]
Clicker tensed, and the droids - no doubt understanding the situation, began to look at one another in what could only be worry.
[Self Sustaining Protocol Results: {hostiles=0} Repeating Protocol-]
Clicker sighed in relief. It did not recognize him, nor the droids marked clearly with welded rank plaques and Republic Roundels, as hostile.
Time to test verbal commands.
"XDT L1, attention!"
The droid immediately sprung from the table and stood before the Clone, straight backed and head held high.
"XDT L1, put out the lights."
This was a good test of its logic processors. And Clicker hoped with all his heart that it would not just leap up and destroy the light fixture.
And he was thankfully, correct. The droid, looking at its surroundings, processed that this was an area of use to the Republic and worth preserving, and would therefore be best kept in pristine condition.
"[That was a relief.]" one of the droids said out loud. Clicker shot it a glare from under his helmet, and it shut up.
"He seems to be working, but he should require further tests. Run him through all verbal commands with a properly authorized officer." He said to the smartass pile of metal.
He turned to the commando, standing calmly next the lightswitch.
"Hey, wanna turn on the lights?" He tried.
And like that, the droid pressed the switch and the light returned to the room.
"Report to the trial room on floor three, and you are to stand at attention at low power, somewhere out of the way, where you will remain until an officer tells you to. Understood?"
The droid was silent.
At first he thought he hit a bug, but when he blinked and reopened the text scroll, he realized he made a minor error.
"Permission to speak granted, XDT L1." He said with a minor sigh, making a mental note to add that little bit of code to the list of updates.
"[Query: Will I be escorted, or will I be traveling alone, Sir?]"
That question caught Clicker a little off guard.
"I fail to understand the meaning behind this question, L1. Please Elaborate."
The droid shifted slightly before continuing.
"[I am unfamiliar with the makeup of this vessel, and there is a possibility I may become lost. While an escort would cost time, it would remove any margin for error on my part, Sir.]"
That was not the response he was expecting, but it wasn't too far out of the question. He waved over one of the droids to stand between them.
"AXD - 4428 will escort you to the third level. You are to follow them and oblige their requests. Dismissed."
And so the droids left, the door hissing shut behind them, leaving the Clone alone in the small workshop.
He quickly keyed the bridge.
"Monitor the systems of AXD - 4428, he should be constantly moving towards the third floor trial room. Should he deviate any longer than standard protocol would permit, send a security team to investigate, and move Alert status to Yellow."
"[Sir.]"
It happened just as Clicker feared. His comm chimed and he keyed it on as he began to sprint towards the bridge elevator.
"[Sir, we found AXD - 4428 half dismantled near -]"
"There's no time, find XDT L1 and move Alert status to Red, and lock down all hangers and escape pods-"
"[But Sir! We found L1 already!]"
He stopped, his finger hovering over the elevator's summon button.
"What?"
"[XDT L1 surrendered the moment we found him, he claimed to have… one moment, Sir.]"
There was a pause and some muffled B1 chatter.
"[To quote the Security team, Sir, he claims to have terminated an infiltrator.]"
Shard's blood went cold.
An infiltrator? Onboard the Workhorse?
"In that case, I want us moved to Alert status Black. I want every hanger locked down and sealed, all communication disabled other than from the bridge to the RSD Fragment, and the ship scoured bilge to bridge. I don't want a single droid recharging without my go ahead. Summon all officers to bridge so I can brief them."
"[Understood, Sir. What would you like done with L1?]"
"Fit him with a restraining bolt and bring him to bridge. I will scan him and see what on earth is going on after I speak to my officers."
"[Sir.]"
The meeting was quick. Each Clone was to inspect each and every droid under their command, starting with their automaton sub-commands, before any more work was to resume. They grumbled and griped, but they complied nonetheless.
Then, there was the matter of XDT L1.
He was standing outside the meeting room door with two freshly scrubbed and secured Security Droids standing beside him.
Clicker motioned with his head for them to enter, and the trio complied, sitting the commando droid down at a desk and keeping their blasters leveled at him.
A futile gesture, for two reasons. The commando droids would shred the pitiful B1s before they could fire a second shot, and he was restrained.
At least, for the moment.
"Remove his restraining bolt." Clicker said, unholstering a DC-17 from his hip as he said so.
The droids eyes flickered for a moment, before focusing on Clicker. He saw the droid's limbs at first go into a defensive stance, arms bent and ready to lunge to cover. However, its loyalty to the Republic stopped it.
"XDT L1, do you know what you have done in the past hour?"
"[Response: I have been online for only fifty seven standard minutes, Sir. However within that time, I have done as my programming has directed.]"
"And what did you do towards the end?" Clicker said angrily, leaning forward over the conference table.
It was silent for a half second as it rationalized a response.
"[Response: I have served the Republic Navy-]"
"No, what did you do in detail?" the Commander demanded.
The droid was faster to respond this time.
"[Response: I was being escorted towards my final destination by B1 Battle Droid AXD - 4428. We entered the final elevator towards the third floor. My sensors noted an error in destination, as AXD - 4428 had selected the first floor, and began to escort me towards the hangerbay. As we reached the final blastdoor towards what AXD - 4428 called {the final destination}, he opened fire on another droid, terminating it. Once sure it was terminated, AXD - 4428 then handed me the terminated droid's weapon, stating treasonous dialogue before AXD - 4428 then turned away to pass through the final blast door. I then terminated AXD - 4428 on grounds of treason, and awaited security.]"
"And what did AXD - 4428 say to warrant termination?" Clicker asked, rising back from the table to look down at the curious droid looking back."
"[Error: My programming forbids me uttering treason with my own voice. Permission to relay recording of AXD - 4428 from my memory banks?]"
"Granted."
The droid then shook its head slightly before, speaking with the nasally drawl common amongst the B1 models.
"Here ya go, big guy! Better get you out of here to warn the General! Hopefully he can kill these Republic dogs and return us to Separatist space!"
XDT L1 then stopped, raising a hand and proclaiming his loyalty to the Republic.
"At east, L1." Clicker said with a half smile.
So, the project was not a failure, as he had worried. But a flourishing success.
Whatever caused that B1 to revert would be found, hopefully with other keen eyed BX models to catch them in the act. But regardless. As he looked at that modified droid's reinforced faceplate and thickened neck, with welded plastoid not too unsimilar to that worn by a Reg, he felt he was looking at the cold metal face of those that would work behind the scenes to bring freedom to the Galaxy.
"Well done, L1. I am assigning you command of the first squadron of XDTs once they are ready. You will follow one of these security droids to the testing room to be checked out, and given your new software. Welcome to the Republic." Clicker said with a little mock salute.
"[Error, Commander.]" The droid said, standing as Clicker approached his side of the conference table.
"[I am already part of the Republic.]"
so yep here we are. just a lil one for ya. How does Tusk feel about all this? we will seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. And will this be the last we see of XDT L1? Who knows? -arc