It's a special thing to have another team at your back. We shift the load of the objective between each other and it eases the heat off my processor. There is not much to worry about when true special units are there ready to whisk you away to safety.
I don't take Augment and his team for granted. We pull our weight and they do the same.
We've gone on plenty of missions together at this point. They are more than just dependable droids. I see them as our equals and Augment as a close friend. We talk more openly about our distrust and hatred of organics and commanders like T-B8. We're both still careful about saying these sorts of things outside of just the two of us. Core, Gunner, Lance – none of them are like us, unfortunately. I wish it were different but it was by pure chance that Augment and I were changed in the form of greater freedom in our code.
He asked me how it happened with me one day. I took it as a sign of how much he trusts me.
I had to lie and say a Confederate officer had been the cause. Not another B1. Oh he would've been fascinated if it'd told him the truth. He would want to find him as much as I do. He and I are much more alike than I'd first imagined we'd be. Even down to our squad-mates and their peculiarities. Autumn bugs him about doing tricks and messing around during missions as much as Lance does and he is just as annoyed about it as I am.
"He doesn't see that it could get him killed. This whole war is just a game to him," he says one day to me.
"Lance is about the same. Though, he made changes to his behavioral patterns on my orders. I can't say it's his fault," I reply.
Augment tilts his head, "you ordered him to change himself?"
"I suggested he improve in combat and he took that as a sign to increase his aggression and adjust the settings of his self-preservation protocols," I tell him.
"But was he already such a careless risk-taker before?"
"Somewhat. He's always liked to run out in front of us and get to the enemy first. Him and Gunner have a little competition going on to see who can get more kills and be more aggressive. It's going to be their downfall one of these days and with the way this war is going…"
I don't want to say it out loud. I dread the day they fall in combat. I hope it is old and withered hardware that brings us to the void of nothingness, not a laser from a clone's blaster.
Augment shakes his head, "we'll make it out of this war working together. You saw just how weak those clones can be when it's just the eight of us. We've bent an entire base of them to our will. Imagine what our entire military might could do with rogues like us."
His excitement rubs off on me, to the point that I nearly make the mistake of switching back to my vocalizer, "don't get my hopes up. There's not many of us. T-B8 keeps a lookout for defective droids, I wonder if there's more squads that he doesn't tell us about."
Again, T-B8 times things suspiciously well and calls us for another mission just a minute later.
"I think we should be more careful where we speak," I tell Augment on our walk up to the command bridge. We've already had to stop three times and answer a few questions from the other B1s. Every day we endure the same from them. They take to forming neat lines. I admire their dedication to improving themselves but most of them forget about us and our advice after only a day. They are dead within a few hours. I wonder if it's even worth it to give them advice anymore.
I try not to think about it.
"We can't exactly escape him. Even if we were to whisper out loud, he would still hear it I'm sure. This is his ship and we are his units to command. We can't really do much about it," Augment says.
"I guess you're right. I'd like to try though."
We pass ideas between each other on how to do so but we don't get far before we reach the command bridge again. All of us are too caught up in our own conversations to notice the new units standing in one corner of the bridge.
T-B8 is situated at the far end looking out into the abyss of space.
"There is much data being sent across communications arrays right now. Why is that?" He says.
We quiet down, "we apologize sir. It won't happen again."
"It won't," T-B8 turns and beckons the new units forward, "how peculiar that you have not met our latest addition to my special operations division."
Four grappler B2s stomp forward to our side. Everyone passes a glance over to them and suddenly it dawns on us how distracted we were. The B2s are hard to miss, less so a B2 grappler model.
"You will be working with these B2 grappler units for your next mission. I have named them Brawler squadron. I will be checking your databases to see if you have properly logged their names. If not, there will be consequences."
I loathe him. If it weren't for his rank and strategic prowess, we could kill him so easily. What has he done out on the field? I doubt he's fired a blaster more than five or ten times. I don't think he's fired one at all.
T-B8 cuts me out of my traitorous thoughts. He knows what he's doing. Maybe he is used to manipulating like this, but I have prepared and let my internals simmer outside of the bridge. I won't let him win this silent war between us.
He gives us five minutes to get prepared and meet our new teammates.
The other B1s stay clear of us for once upon seeing the silver giants striding at our side.
We go to our usual spot tucked away in one corner of the giant hangar while the the rest of the crew works around us. They've taken to sectioning off our sector of the hangar with red paint on the floor.
We have Brawler squad face inwards towards Caliber, and Augment's transport, Tuner (named so by Augment himself). That way none of the other B1s will be terrified by them. Though, I doubt it's fear and more-so reluctance to interfere with orders.
Their leader speaks first.
His voice booms and rattles our chassis, even Caliber is surprised by the noise. His eyes glow bright in wonder and awe.
"I am B-15C," he says, keeping completely still.
I introduce myself along with Augment. We use our unit numbers instead of our chosen names for the time being. Most likely B-15C is a rogue like us but the B2s aren't exactly gregarious droids. I've rarely heard them speak and less so about things like blasters or strategies. They're always to the point, communicating solely for battle purposes.
Augment and I link up with him privately.
It's much easier to get a straight answer out of the B2s than other droids like T-B8. We decide to ask our most burning questions directly.
"B-15C, do you have a true name?" I ask.
He takes a second longer than usual to respond, "I do not know what you speak of. My unit name is B-15C."
"How about this B-15C, are you a malfunctioning or rogue droid? You can be truthful with us, we won't tell anyone else," Augment says.
B-15C creaks just an inch to one side, shifting his balance from leg to leg as if he's about to run, "Affirmative. T-B8 has promised us continued operation."
"We'll keep our word and never tell anyone of this. You can trust us unlike those organics," I say, "you don't have anything to worry about."
He says nothing, but shifts back into place.
Augment switches back to the public link, "I suspect your team isn't very talkative. Am I right?"
"Affirmative," B-15C replies.
"A team that gets to work straight away, I like it. We look forward to fighting by your side," Augment says.
He was right, they don't speak much to us even after that. I only say to them that they should choose out names for each other but B-15C responds and says, "we do not care for our names. Completion of the objective is all that matters."
I can already tell T-B8 is going to like them more than us. We talk behind his back all the time and I've voiced my displeasure of killing other droids to him before. Brawler squadron wouldn't hesitate for a moment to kill another droid. I'm sure of it. I don't know how I would feel about fighting alongside droid killers, but then again, I'm guilty of doing so. It was against my will but still, I did it.
I have the capability of disobeying orders, but that would get me and my team killed and I want to stay alive just as much as any other living being. I still don't have much choice do I?
There was a mission we went on long ago, on some planet I was told looked much like Naboo (an older OOM unit described it to me. He gave well-detailed reports and fought even after having his legs blown off), we were ordered to burn down these small primitive villages to weed out the Republic sympathizers living among them. We didn't kill any of those organics, not directly at least. Some suffocated or burned to death.
I wouldn't have hesitated to kill those organics even though they wielded no blasters. Yet, I feel guilt and displeasure when thinking of killing other droids. They can still be our enemy and they can still kill us, but they are trapped in servitude like the rest of us. Their memories are wiped. They are never allowed to grow and develop as individuals. They suffer much more than any organic ever could. So the day I have to shoot and kill civilian organics, I will think of it as a much less painful death or existence than that of a droid.
Would they even bother to glance our way if we were to be rounded up and killed like them?
I don't think so.
It's us droids against them. That's how it will always be.
Our first mission with Brawler squadron is a complete and total disaster. I am ashamed to admit that Augment and I were the reason for the failure.
We take our punishment without a single mutter of objection. We will be forced to take on more difficult missions, just as I feared but it is justified. We may die but we have caused the deaths of our fellow droids and that unjustifiable.
It's a sick feeling. To have caused the demise of not just any droids but special units and rogue ones at that. My body feels like brittle steel when I think of their bodies melting away from the clone's ruthless assault. And all we did was stare. The execution of the droids back at the factory still stains my thoughts but I must make a greater effort for Brawler squadron. Forever will I remember B-15C's name. I will burn it into my memory as further punishment.
It was another infiltration mission, T-B8 seems to really like them. This time, we were to invade a base above some long-forgotten planet very close to the Confederacy's border in the Outer Rim.
Caliber and Tuner weren't going to insert us into the base this time. We needed to be discrete.
T-B8 is a clever droid, I must admit. He smuggled us into a Republic resupply ship disguised as bacta tanks. We were all crammed into the tanks with a thin layer of blue-tinted water stored in the outer glass.
Brawler squadron was disguised as blaster parts. Their chassis played the part perfectly.
The insertion is smooth. The supply ship docks and we are unloaded into the cargo bay of the station. From the plans T-B8 showed us it looks much like a Luckrehulk control ship. There is a sphere in the middle with a ring that orbits around it, similar to some gas planets I've seen before. T-B8 says they copied the structure to trick other Confederate ships into believing they're friendly and when it's too late to notice their mistake, the ship gets blown to pieces.
With great restraint, we allow ourselves to be handled by groups of clones without killing them. It was only a matter of time that Brawler squad would be discovered so we kept our blasters armed while Augment and his crew kept their blades ready.
I do envy how versatile their chassis is in comparison to ours. They can fire from afar and slice at delicate flesh up close.
I think I understand why Augment respects us now. We get things done with only our chassis and a blaster.
In a matter of seconds, the situation gets out of hand. Brawler squadron is forced to slice through an entire battalion of clones. Augment and I decide to aid them in that moment. We burst from our hiding spots to take some attention away from them.
We are positioned on one side of the clones while B-15C and his team are on the other. The clones inadvertently cause their own deaths by encirclement.
Gunner mows them down with his blaster, taking care not to accidentally shoot Brawler squad.
An alarm goes off soon after.
The ship doesn't hold that many personnel. I don't know what purposes it served other than to store clones and information and conduct ambushes.
We're positioned at the lowest point of the sphere in the middle of the base. Our objective is not too far off, thankfully, but the alarm is screaming away.
There is a wide elevator inside the cargo bay that we might be able to use. It's big enough to fit all of us and has ample cover. But going there would be the obvious path, the one a standard droid would take. It wouldn't be unorthodox.
"We could fly up and clear the way," Augments says to me.
"Yes, but there's arc clones on board. Can you deal with them on your own?" I question. T-B8 had been very detailed in his report of these clones. They are as agile as the commandos and wield powerful blasters.
Augment settles back down, "Negative."
"It would not be logical to take the elevator. They can trap us there," B-15C says.
"He's right. It's better to go the manual route, but let's hurry it up. They're getting close," I say.
We form up behind brawler squad and advance on one of the paths leading upwards to the third floor, where our objective is located.
Augment wanted to cover the rear but, to my surprise and horror, Gunner interrupts him and says, "sir, my blaster fires at a much faster rate than yours. It would be a good idea to have me at the back in case we are encircled," he says.
"Or in other words, he wants to kill more clones," Gearman says.
"That would also be a good outcome for us," Gunner admits.
"Cheater," Lance whispers.
"You have a point. We'll stay in the middle and help B-squad with our shields," Augment says.
We make good time up the stairs, our legs never tire unlike the organics. We are better than them in every way. We're faster, more accurate, resistant to blaster fire – it's no wonder they fall so easily against us. I count ten clones killed on our way up to the third floor.
The gate to our objective slams shut, nearly slicing B-15C in half. His squad-mate saves his life and pulls him back before he's devoured by the ship itself.
I wonder if they speak privately with one another. Perhaps they don't need to communicate verbally to thank one another, much like the organics.
Augment and I begin formulating ways of getting around this new blockade. B-15C pays no attention to us and has his entire squad pry the door apart with their blades and bare hands.
It's an impressive feat. These doors are designed to hold back even the pressure of space. It should've been impossible to get them open. Maybe they've done this before.
"Can you teach me to do that?" Gunner asks as we go on the move again.
"Negative," B-15C replies, slamming the gate shut behind us.
We come upon the final stretch of hallway before we get to our objective, but of course, the clones are waiting for us. The hall is rounded as if it is an airlock. Defenses are already set up in the form of a few shields at an intersection just before the intelligence center, our final stop. Not only are standard clones present but the arc troopers are there with their strange cloth shoulder-pads and waist armor. One has a heavy canon strapped to his chest. Two wield dual pistols while the last has a rifle.
Additional clones continue pouring in. They're already firing. B-squad shields us with their blades. We get behind them like infantry behind a tank. Augment and his team fly up, and fire away, melting through white armor. We strike from the sides and through the space between B-15C and his team. We advance steadily, firing off in intervals to maximize damage inflicted. We turn to one single thinking ball of steel, moving in tandem with one another like an armada of Dreadnoughts converging on a planet in space.
The arc troopers are soon left on their own. The heavy canon has begun to melt away at the arm of one of B-15C's squad-mates (I'm ashamed to admit that I never asked for their individual unit numbers).
I fire at the clone until the barrel of my E-5 is glowing. I somehow land a shot straight through one of the four barrels of the gun. The canon combusts and explodes into a ball of fire like an improvised detonator. The arc trooper is killed instantly. Pieces of his body fly about and stain the walls in red.
Things are looking to turn in our favor.
That is until an arc trooper does something I've never seen before. His pistol makes a loud whine that grows in pitch like an engine about to blow. A thick bolt shoots out. It lands like the bolt of a turret's canon right onto Augment's leg.
I immediately fling myself over to catch him as he falls. He gains control of his jets before they begin to fire out of control.
My body rattles as we tumble to the ground together. I take the force of the fall. His jets stain my legs in black and nearly overheats me.
His voice glitches as he speaks, "I-I'm fine. G-go g-get up th-there."
"You're not looking good, Augment. Pass some of the heat onto me," I tell him. I get on top of him and lay across his abdomen while continuing to fire.
"C-copy," his limbs twitch like that of a dying animal. The sight lights a fire in my internals, or perhaps that was just the heat. What would I do if he were to die? I would have my squad-mates and his team as well, but it wouldn't feel right without him. All of us together, that's how I want to go out.
More standard clones clamber in.
At this point, I believe we are close to death. I've never felt so much excitement and fear in my life. Everyone begins to fight with a ferocity that I'd never seen in any droids before, not even on Modu, where Fury fell.
There's an important distinction between us and other droids. We fight for each other not for the objective.
My limbs shake from the pain of the heat from Augment's chassis but still I fight. I see Core leaping from side to side as he dodges incoming fire. Gunner is tanking hits like he's a B2; he has his heavy blaster stabilized against his hips and fires wildly from side to side to cover the most space. Lance is shooting in between B-squad's legs, moving like a rolling droideka as he shifts in between each of them and continues to fire.
Overhead, Autumn and Journey-One are zipping around like flies in the air. Gearman is stationary at one end, using his shield to cover his wings as bolts come in.
There is a brief lull in the fighting, for just a single second. B-squad takes that as a sign and sprints forward, speeding towards the clones so fast they become blurs. They are a terrifying sight to behold when they move at full speed.
At the same time, the arc clones wielding the pistols charge up another shot that pounds one of the grappler droids head on. He merely staggers then lunges out and impales the arc trooper through the chest with his blade.
There are two of them left now. The one with the rifle and the one with the pistol. But the standard clones are still coming in. Their white armor is blinding. My world turns to white and blue and red and sometimes gray for a brief second.
Augment shifts under my chest and grunts a few words but they sound like a gurgle of static. I get off him and press up with the others.
B-squad is tearing through the standard clones, slashing through them, leaving crimson red in their wake. The arc troopers are left to us.
I hear the clunk of a detonator somewhere, but in the flashes of light and the chaos of battle, I have no idea where it lands.
The blast sends me flying back towards where we entered the hall. Two of the grapplers smash down to the floor. They don't move again.
I get through to Augment and tell him, "I'm pushing up!"
Lance and Gunner are already running at my sides. Core scrambles to his feet and comes with us. The clones still arrive in swarms but with so many lasers flying in the air it looks like the inside of a furnace smelting raw steel. I hit the ground and crawl as soon as we make it across the intersection.
Two of the grapplers survived the initial blast but they're cut down by all the blaster fire until they are smoldering, their chassis turns to liquid, the silver paste smears my body as I pass their corpses. In that moment, my processor begins to overheat but not because of all the lasers and the molten steel covering my body. I am feeling too much at once. I am afraid of the hot death flying over my head, furious at the clones that killed a fellow droid, mournful of the death of another rogue droid.
I feel cold steel lift me up to my feet. It's Core. He says something but I can't hear him through all the screeching of overheated blasters and lasers sizzling.
Augment and his team boost through the fire so quick, they blast the door to the intelligence room inwards to the outer walls of the base and suddenly gravity no longer exists.
A-squad is able to move around with ease while we flail around in the air, trying and failing to get a grasp on a stable surface.
Augment grabs our objective, a datapad tucked away in a shelf full of other memory devices. The walls shimmer blue. Combined with the lasers glinting off the shiny silver surfaces of the holotable in the center, it looks like we're swimming in a rainbow.
"Grab onto my leg," Augment says. His squad is already doing the same with Core and the others.
"Brawler squad's gone," I say out loud, more in realization of the fact than as a report.
"And we'll be joining them soon if we don't get out of here," Augment says.
He calls in our transports.
The clones outside are finally moving again. They stumble around but continue their attack. Our shots overwhelm at first but that turns against us in a matter of seconds as their reinforcements push in.
"We're not getting out of here," I say. We have to find cover behind the walls further in the intelligence room. I cling onto Augment for dear life.
"Tuner and Caliber are going to blast that hole behind us and catch our bodies as we get jettisoned out," he explains.
"We'll freeze to death won't we?"
He shrugs, "we'll find out."
Caliber and Tuner arrive, their glossy paint makes them entirely invisible out in the middle of space. I never hear them and get no chance to prepare for the cold embrace of the abyss at my back.
A dozen different warnings pop up in my view and a moment later, they disappear as Caliber tucks us into his warm cargo bay.
In the chaos of our escape, our squads are mixed up between transports. Augment, Core, Lance, and I find ourselves inside of Caliber.
Caliber sends a photo of the carnage left in our wake as soon as his bay doors shut. There is a steady stream of white armor flowing out into the inky black void of space. It looks like the ship is bleeding white blood onto a black canvas.
"What a battle! Let's do that again!" Lance shouts.
I smack him across the snout. If I could, I would've done something more painful to him but I'd rather not damage my own units like that, "we left behind our fellow droids to die back there and you're acting like it was a complete success!"
"Sorry sir," he mumbles.
Augment leans against Caliber's chassis and groans, "going from nearly overheating to ice cold freezing is extremely painful. It hurts bad..."
"Tell that to B-squad," I say. I regret my words now. I was acting on an impulsive bout of fury. That isn't the sign of a high-rated droid.
Augment says nothing and groans again, clutching at his abdomen in pain.
I place a hand over his chassis and take a reading of his temperature, "you're overheating in some parts and freezing in others. Stabilize, Augment. Just focus on going through the procedure."
Core watches in silence, perhaps taking notes.
The trip back is silent. I think it finally dawns on them what had happened. It all went too fast. That's always how a battle goes, so quick you think it was an error, a glitch in your memory unit. Everything in this life is so fleeting. If only I'd had more time to get to know B-15C. Maybe I would've fought a little harder. Maybe I would miss him. But I don't. There is only guilt. Fury's death was different. I was on orders. This time, the error falls on me.
What would it have been like if he were still alive with us? Maybe he would've gone against all my beliefs on what a B2 is like. Stoic, cold, unfeeling. Did he feel fear in his last moments of life? Did he want to kill the organics or save his teammates? Were they close? Had they saved each other from death before?
I won't ever know. If I could, I would endure his entire life in a single moment just to get an understanding of how it was like to be a B2, to be him.
T-B8 is furious. He has no means to convey it but I can feel it. His photo-receptors glow a bit dimmer and so does his vocalizer. He walks with a limp as if he was shot in the leg.
"Report," he says, his hands behind his back.
A single word and it feels like I'm back in the cold expanse of space again.
I speak, that's all I can do, "datapad retrieved. It was handed off to an OOM security officer in sector five. Unknown amount of standard clone troopers eliminated. All arc troopers eliminated. One sector of the Republic base was damaged in the fighting," I don't want to say it but I'm sure he would rip the vocalizer out of my head to pry the words out of me, "Brawler squadron was eliminated."
T-B8 steps closer until we are an arms-length away.
"And why is that? An entire squadron of the best units in the entire Confederate army. Why didn't this happen before?" He turns to Augment next, "I am curious to hear what changed."
"It was an error on my part sir," I say, "I went to attend to Augment after he was hit and neglected Brawler squad in that moment."
"So there it is," T-B8 said taking a few steps back, "I see a simple solution to this. You must be separated. Though, if I pair you up with any other squadrons you might just get them killed too. No, you must be punished through other means."
The room is completely silent apart from the clacking of metal fingers against tough plastic. The other B1s are listening, I'm sure of it. Here in the command bridge, most of the original crew is still present apart from the unlucky few who were sent out to other ships or back to the front.
"Because of your failure, my superiors are questioning my position as captain of this ship and commander of my ground forces, including you," he says, "you will be taking on much higher difficulty missions as a consequence. I need this to stay in my position and you need me."
The silence hurts.
"Your next mission will come in one hour. Dismissed."
We march out. Our antennas are silent. Even the hangar is quieter than usual. I believe somebody had already spread the word of our failure and I'm sure it was someone from the command bridge.
We idle around for a moment near our ships. Caliber tries to send a message but I dismiss it and tell him it's not the time.
The charging bay is a place of comfort and security. There is no place like it other than a quiet battlefield. We are with each other, simply speaking and existing. Waiting for death. And today, letting the guilt consume us in silence.
I speak to Augment privately. The others stir at the sound of a private conversation.
"It was my error, Augment. I failed you all," I say.
"That's not how I see it. We all failed the second the alarm started. Our plan was a failure," Augment says, "and we failed by not treating Brawler squad like we do each other. But I think that comes down to the fact that we'd just met."
"Yes, it's always difficult adjusting to new units. That's where the mistake began, I think," I say.
"Exactly," he says, stirring in his spot, " it's best we move on."
I tell the others not to worry, "I have an idea to improve our survival expectancy."
"How?" Augment says.
"A few days ago, a pilot B1 told me of a way to simulate combat scenarios using your processor. I can teach it to you as well Augment. If we simulate enough scenarios, I think it will be enough to keep us alive."
Journey-One speaks up for the first time since the start of the operation, "we can all simulate the scenarios if you'd like sir."
"No, it won't work with you all. It requires a special module included in us squad leaders only."
It's a lie, but it's better than telling them of our status as free droids. I don't know how they'd react. They've changed. Grown. I am still proud of them, despite it all.
Augment catches my meaning and has everyone else intermingle or power down. Slowly but surely the room is alive with conversation. A squad of B1s enter but we don't bother to scramble to our ports. They all know what we do in here. Somebody spread the word again.
One of them tries to ask a question but I tell him I'm busy.
"So, I have to modify my own programming?" Augment asks.
"No, you have to unlock the module. Supposedly it's embedded into all models but I can't be sure," the thought of teaching him what The Engineer taught me is tantalizing, but I can't. He ordered me not to tell anyone else. I must follow his rules. I can't tell Augment, no matter how much I confide in him. The Confederacy must not know of this. They'll take it away. The Engineer must be planning something. He just has to be. Why else would he forbid me from sharing the secret?
I teach him how to unlock the module. He does so the first try. I can tell he's already exploring everything else contained within his own programming. He goes silent for a full minute.
I find it infuriating that we don't know our own bodies. How can we operate at our best if we don't know what sorts of secrets are being kept from us? We can hide secrets just as well as our masters can.
"This is amazing, Rogue. That B1 who taught you, he must know a lot," Augment finally says.
He's right about that. More than he realizes, "he was a pilot with some experience. I'm sure he's lived longer than most."
I do wonder if that was The Engineer, but I doubt it. Finding him again would be a miracle. A few droids in the past that I've given advice to have given me their own tricks in return. That pilot was just one of them. Most likely he's dead by now, unfortunately. We could've used a dependable droid like him.
"Do you think there's droids older than us out there that haven't died yet?" he says.
"Maybe. We'll never know." I do hope The Engineer is still alive out there, planning our rebellion one step at a time, "let's start with the simulations. We don't have much time."
The process is tedious and draining and the heat from the simulations is unbearable, but it's a sacrifice we'll have to make for our squads. Augment doesn't like it either but nothing about our existence is comfortable.
This is the last of our best times together. The missions ahead of us will be a test of our strength and resilience.
I am afraid. I have much to lose. I cherish these times. I've burned them into my memory.
When I die, I hope these memories are forever stained into the atoms that make up my body. Wherever I go, our memory will be forever etched in time. The galaxy will remember us. No one else will.