My hiatus is finally over. Took a lot longer than I intended—went to rehab for alcohol abuse—and I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things.

Big thanks to Firehawk1100 for reviewing this chapter and fixing all the mistakes I made.

The Confrontation

Commander Coquer was sitting in the captain's chair, reading a datapad in his right hand with extreme focus while the holoprojections of the ship-captains of his fleet were giving him their daily update. Their meeting, as Rust noticed, was taking longer than it usual did, probably due to the fact the commander was absent from his duties for a period, and the droid wagered he wanted to make up for lost time.

Lugnut approached Commander Coquer with another datapad in hand, presenting the device to him. Rust focused its photoreceptors on them, zooming in on the commander's face as he released a short laugh and donned a small smile.

Rust wouldn't lie—not like war machines could in the first place—it was pleasant to have the commander standing his duties on the bridge again. Seeing him laugh and smiling was a sight the machine thought would never return.

The droid was standing its usual post onboard the Alacrity—a sentry duty for the sole entrance of the bridge. The machine enjoyed its watch-post greatly. It was calm and easy, not at all taxing on its power-cells. The closest Rust ever saw action while on post was when the Republic tried to board the starship. The clones barely got far before they were eliminated.

Though, if one of Rust's fellow battle droids were to asked the machine why it enjoyed the post so much, willingly to pull double or even triple shifts, the droid's simple answer would be, their commanding officer, Commander Coquer.

The captains of the other vessels in the fleet stood at attention, saluting human Coquer. He replied with I got balls in my mouth ay the same courtesy as each winked out of existence.

Rust focused on the commander's back, noting his posture was no longer improper and slouched. His spine was straight, shoulders squared as he waited for the last droid to cease transmission. His dark brown hair no longer unruly and reaching beyond his shoulders, now trimmed to regulations, returning to its smart slicked-back style.

The ache in Rust's chassis from being by his side while he mourned, consistently pondering what it could do to help ease the pain of the commander, was gone, extinguish and replaced with the burning sensation the droid fondly remembered and took comfort in. The intensity of the feeling grew whenever the commander beckons the machine or, like they were now, standing in close proximity of one another. It was like phosphorus, refusing to go out until the host itself was reduced to a smoldering charred statue.

Since it never popped up on any error logs during daily diagnostic checks, Rust couldn't pinpoint the exact time frame the feeling started occurring, acknowledging the phenomenon fully at their retreat at the Battle of Felucia from the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker and his Padawan. The droid didn't know what the feeling was; if it was a rare glitch among B-1 series, or something minor that could be resolved through a simple reboot. What Rust did know, was that it didn't wish for it to be gone, enjoying the burn greatly. To the droid, the machine felt like it was getting closer to discovering what a soul was.

And Rust desperately wished to solve that enigma.

The doors to the bridge opened and Lieutenant Bonteri entered.

"XO on the bridge," Rust announced.

The lieutenant flinched from the droid's declaration. He hurried to Commander Coquer, avoiding eye contact with all of Rust's droid brethren on the bridge.

Lieutenant Bonteri, another puzzle Rust was attempting to decipher. Since the brief conversation they shared after the man alleviated human Coquer's sorrow—which the droid was eternally grateful for—he'd been acting quite peculiar. On the day of his arrival, he was haughty and quite unpleasant to work with. At least, that was what the other droids had informed Rust since the machine never had a chance to meet with him prior to their conversation. Now, close to two standard weeks since that day, human Bonteri became reclusive, avoiding contact with all battle droids onboard the fleet—a feat that was quite remarkable in Rust's opinion—conversing strictly to the commander.

Was it something the droid said or did that made the lieutenant elude the war machines of the fleet like the plague? Rust still have the exchange of words in its memory banks, swiftly going through them, hoping it wouldn't get caught during the mast-able act of being distracted while on watch. The droid stilled the playback, freezing at the frame where itself was offering a hand to Bonteri.

Was that it? Rust pondered. The same gesture Coquer conducted with Amieto?

Had the machine conduct the action wrong and subsequently offended the lieutenant? Or was it something that only organic beings could do, not those of metal?

I have to rectify this mistake, Rust determined, ending the recording.

The machine refused to have discourse, as mundane as this might be, to fester. Human Bonteri's current behavior could be a detriment on the battlefield. Simple hesitation of talking to a droid could be the factor of life or death of Rust's brethren, or worse, human Coquer.

The very idea of the commander ceasing functionality made the temperature for Rust's inner components drop drastically, reaching sub-zero levels.

"Alright, you win," Commander Coquer's voice brought Rust out of its musing.

The commander turned, facing all hands on the bridge. "Everyone, you are dismiss from the bridge. I shall call you back once I'm finish having a word with Lieutenant Bonteri."

One by one, droids stood up from their seats, filing out of the room in a mechanical fashion. It took a while for all the droids to exit. The elevator could only hold so much after all. When it was Rust's turn to depart, having to be last due to its sentry duty, the droid glanced at the two humans.

Commander Coquer flashed the machine a small smile while Lieutenant Bonteri glared at it with a deep-set frown.

Rust didn't know why, but the droid had a bad feeling about the two's conversation.

Alarik was a good man, Coquer deduced. He was easy to converse with and even a better listener. If he hadn't already told him such, Coquer would believe he was a father.

In the short amount of time of him being stationed here, Alarik helped him greatly. Not only shouldering the many responsibilities that comes with leadership, but also with his heart, talking to him daily to stitch the wound that the passing of Trench created. It was helping, Alarik's form of therapy. The sensation of taste had returned, finally able to taste the unappetizing gruel and stale ration bars they served him on the ship. The seductive calling from the fair mistress known as death lost her allure with him looking more towards the future than what was lost. Sleep was actually possible again, no longer staying up long nights wrecking his mind about what he could've done.

As it was stated before, Alarik was a good man. One Coquer owed a lot to. So when Alarik asked him to dismiss all of their men from the bridge so they could have a private conversation, he did so, admittedly with some reluctance. They were in the middle of a war, and though Coquer doubted the Republic would magically find his fleet and commence with a surprise attack, it was still in the realm of possibility. It was better to be prepared for something that never occurred than be complacent when the unthinkable happens.

"So, Lieutenant, what is it that you'd like to discuss?"

Coquer gestured to his chair, offering it to Alarik. Since entering the space, his second seemed to be on edge, speaking in whispers and avoiding eye contact with the other men. Since being alone, he relaxed somewhat, no longer looking like he was about to have a panic attack.

Alarik politely refused the offer with a shake of his head. "It's about the droids, sir. All of them, especially those on onboard the Alacrity."

He looked away momentarily, exhaling through his nose, running a hand from his mouth down. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" he asked, his eyes carrying a scared yet serious glint to it.

Coquer gazed at Alarik with concern and anxiety. Whatever happened between him and the droids must've really spooked him. Had his men hurt him in some way? Threaten him?

His left hand balled into a fist. If such things were occurring under his watch, he would personally see to the end of it. He would not allowed such harmful attitude to spread.

"Of course, Alarik," Coquer answered. "Did something happen between you and the men?"

"In a way, yes," Alarik sighed. "I had a one-on-one interaction with a droid on the Alacrity and it was…frightening."

Coquer's eyes narrowed, a scowl present on his lips. "Did they threaten you?" he questioned, his voice even, sinisterly so.

Alarik looked taken back from his change of demeanor. "N—no. The machine didn't do any of the sort. None of the droids in the fleet has."

"They haven't?" Puzzlement replaced the simmering fury that was on Coquer's face. "Then what is this about?"

"It wasn't what the droid said that scared me. It's what that machine felt, that frighten me so."

Puzzlement deepened to pure confusion. "I don't understand," Coquer professed. "What are you trying to say, Alarik?"

Alarik closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose then roughly huff it all out at once. "The droid cares about you," he stated.

He opened his eyes, staring at Coquer. "I don't know if you already knew this or not, but droids, especially those designed for waging war, are not supposed to care about living beings," he explained. "True, most, if not all machines, are programmed for empathy towards us organics in some regards because of the basic law of robotics."

"But this droid," Alarik continued. "The words it used. How it acted when I prodded it. It went beyond simple battle droid programming."

Coquer flinched at how intensely Alarik was staring at him, practically glaring.

"The droid cares about you," Alarik declared. "Cares like a human does towards another."

Coquer blinked at the proclamation, digesting Alarik's words.

A droid cares about me?

Alarik broke eye contact, huffing as he walked in a small circle. "And it wasn't just limited to that one machine. I checked all the ships of the fleet, spying on the droids." He stopped walking, gazing at the ceiling. He looked as if he was praying to a deity.

"And they all have the same level of intelligence but only a fraction of...emotion—"

Coquer could hear Alarik wincing as he said the word.

"—as the droid I met. But I can tell their concept of "feeling" is growing. The droids on this starship are by far the worst victim of this virus. They are either on par or slightly below the droid I talked to."

Alarik gazed at Coquer once more. "This could not only harm our forces in the Confederacy, but the entire galaxy if this somehow spread," he warned. "We could face a droid uprising."

A droid uprising? Coquer was taught a few of such incidents during his younger years. They were violent occurrences in history, with the planet that it befell on never being the same again. Strict laws were passed with each instances, harsh and unforgiving to automatons as well as any living beings that may have instigated it.

With everything he read, politicians and engineers never asked why droids were willing to pick up arms, only how to stop it from happening again, or the very least, mitigate the problem.

Perhaps droids wished to be like their creators?

"Would it be that bad?"

Alarik stilled at those words. "...what?"

"Would it be that bad for them to have emotions like us?" he questioned. "If droids could—I don't know, evolve into having feelings like we do, why should we stop them?"

Alarik took a step back. "Coquer…"

"Look," he sighed. "Alarik, I fought on so many battlefields with the droids of this fleet. It came to a point that I no longer view them as obedient machines, but loyal men. Hell, if you actually get to know them, they seem more human than what the clones are."

"That's the problem!" Alarik yelled with knitted brows.

"Droids are not supposed to be human. The reason the Confederacy utilized battle droids for the bulk of our military instead of inhabitants of worlds aligned with us, is because we knew the war for our sovereignty would be a costly one. If the machines gained true sentience then we are just the same as the Republic; sending slaves to fight."

Alarik turned around, his hands on his forehead, letting out a frustrated sounding sigh. With another sigh, he put his arms down.

"Coquer," he started with a fatherly tone—stern yet kind. "I know you're young, and probably been with the droids in this fleet since the war started, but I also know you're smart and probably the most gifted tactician in our time. You wouldn't be able to come up on top from the battles you've won if you weren't either."

His gray eyes bore into Coquer's tawny ones. "So I know, that you know, the truth in my words, and the dangers that would come if you ignore this issue for a second longer."

Coquer broke eye contact with Alarik, taking to his seat. He rested his elbow on the armrest, nestling his head with his hand as he heaved a heavy sigh.

Sentience.

Slavery.

Uprising.

So many things stemmed from a simple droid caring. Coquer knew that Alarik was right, much to his own dismay. His men could not keep functioning. With the Clone Wars, civil unrest was at an all-time high. If one added a droid revolution in the mix, then the chaos would be the least of everyone's worries.

In Serennian culture, one must always honor and respect their fellow men, whether they be allies or foes. It was something Coquer took to heart, seeing the benefits of having an open mind. After the conversation with Alarik, a question had to be ask; what dictates a man?

Were men something scientific as they had to be carbon-based life forms? Or could they simply be individuals with emotions and empathy towards another.

Could a droid have a soul?

"I need time to think over what we discussed."

"Coquer—"

"I said I need time, Lieutenant," Coquer snapped, lifting his head, glaring at Alarik.

After a tense second, his expression softened. "You have my word that I'll give you my answer soon, but for now, keep this between us. If Grievous or my Count hears about this, they might kill us for taking so long to act."

Alarik sighed, avoiding looking at him. "As you wish, Commander."

A console beeped loudly, flashing a bright green color. How Coquer wish the interruption came when he had desperately craved it.

Alarik walked to the console, inspecting it.

"We have an incoming transmission from the Head of State."

Coquer tensed, feeling pang anger entering his heart. His hands balled into clenched fists, turning his knuckles white. He neither heard nor seen his father since Dantooine, the memory of him allowing Ventress beating him still fresh in his mind.

Why the man contact him now? Wishing to allow another beating by proxy?

He ignored the nipping cold on his neck as he rose from his seat. "Patch it though, Lieutenant."

The holo-projector let out a soft frizzle sound as it came to life. Count Dooku stood before them, dressed in his usual noble garbs. Alarik, standing at a respectable arm length away from Coquer, saluted the man while Coquer conducted the proper Serennian welcome to his father.

"My Count," Coquer greeted, barely able to keep the rage out of his voice.

"Commander Coquer," his father replied evenly.

Coquer lowered his arm but kept his spine straight. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, my Lord?"

"A mission, my ward," Dooku answered. "A simple one at that."

"I shall complete any tasks you have for me to the letter."

"Really?" Dooku mocked. "Your streak of losses states otherwise. I made you my ward because I saw potential in you, but potential means nothing if results aren't made."

Coquer clenched his teeth, holding his tongue. He had won more battles than most of the officers in the army and navy combined. But no, focus only on those he lost. Not like he was grieving for the loss of his father, his real father, not whatever Dooku labeled himself as and spiraled into depression.

"You have no need to worry, my Count," Coquer assured. "My resolve has never been greater."

Dooku eyed him with scrutiny. "We shall see."

Bastard.

"Since the peace agreement between the Hutts and the Republic," Dooku started, "our enemy's deployment of troops has proven more reliable. I wish to change that."

The projection of Dooku changed to that of three planets.

"You will be one of three task forces assign to turn a planet into an outpost for us to conduct raids on passing Republic forces." One of the planets flashed red. "The planet appointed to you, will be Aargonar, located in the Perkell Sector."

Coquer knew about Aagonar but not much, only recalling the sole wildlife that made it worth to put it on a map; a gouka dragon. Based on what was being displayed to him, the planet was decent choice for a raid outpost. The desert planet was close to where the action was, being located in the Mid-Rim, as well as near major hyper-lanes.

Despite his growing misgivings about him, Coquer would admit his father was a sound tactician.

At the sight of his father, Coquer placed a fist over his heart. "I shall prove victorious, Count Dooku."

"I would hope so," Dooku commented. "If you fail in this endeavor, the loss of my favor would be the least of your worries."

"A visit from your apprentice?" Coquer guessed, sneering. "Send her. I'm itching to pay her back."

Dooku smirked, and Coquer couldn't tell if his father was pleased with his talkback or simply amused by it. The expression gave him a moment of pause.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, though I doubt you would face much challenge this time around." Dooku smirk grew into a smile. "Farewell, ward."

Dooku ended the transmission, leaving Alarik and Coquer alone once more. Alarik looked at his superior officer, having an expression of concern on his face.

"Coquer, are you okay?" he asked. "You seem…aggravated while talking to Count Dooku. And who's this apprentice you mentioned? I thought you were the Count's apprentice since you're his ward."

"Order the men back on the bridge," Coquer commanded, ignoring the slew of questions. "We have our mission, and I rather complete it in a timely manner."

He retook his seat in the captain's chair, gazing forward, feeling Alarik's eyes upon him. It was obvious the lieutenant wanted to say something, trying to get to the root of what plaques him. Talk to him with some of his fatherly advice and words.

What Coquer needed most; was not a father.

He glanced at Alarik from the corner of his eye. "Problem, Lieutenant?"

Alarik continued to stare at him, the words he wanted to say obviously on his tongue, but at the end, he relented with a huff.

"No, Commander," he admitted begrudgingly. "I will relay your orders."

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. I know this is a short one and I apologize for it. Hoping the next coming arcs would make up for it.

Till Next Time