Nobody talks when his body comes back. It's painful to hear his voice.
"R-6Y reporting sir," he says.
I order him to recharge, anything to get him away from me. I put him with Lance. It's what he would've wanted. Lance himself is getting back to being more chatty. My conversation with Augment comes to mind. Will he return to being who he was before? I hope so. If not – well, I don't want to think about the ifs.
My processor is always at the point of nearly overheating, I am constantly uncomfortable. There is hope yet our situation feels hopeless. Logic conflicts with itself. I'm falling into a loop again. I go to Augment to speak with him. He is with his squad by Tuner, going through combat protocols with Autumn. We both have to re-calibrate our undead squad-mates every now and again, neither of us want to do it but it's necessary for our survival.
I wait for him to finish. He frantically searches the hangar for a brief second before his photo-receptors lock onto mine.
"Oh, there you are," he says.
"How is he doing? Better than before?" I ask.
"Yes, he's improving," he says, I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, "has T-B8 said anything else about those missions?"
"He said we aren't going to be doing many for the time being. He doesn't want to attract too much suspicion from the higher ups."
"A shame. I was looking forward to them."
"You should, we're going on the first one soon. It'll be short, nothing too demanding from what T-B8 told me."
He livens up, his paint shines brighter as the artificial light hits it perfectly from above, "finally, a mission to look forward to. And we'll be right there beside you of all squads, Rogue. Prime squadron."
His head flickers to the B1s around us. Not a single one remembers us anymore. The command bridge was fully rotated out and T-B8 no longer speaks out loud in fear of the Confederacy listening in. He even has us switch to his own encrypted channel for good measure. For just a brief second, he also spoke of altering our programming.
I wonder, has he met The Engineer? I need his help more than ever now. T-B8 is a droid of superior hardware to us B1s, but I believe The Engineer would outdo him somehow. T-B8 is a rogue but is still limited by his programming. He still thinks in terms of commanding a grand military force when in reality we will be anything but that. I have a right to be worried, we have one chance to get out of here and he's not exactly the best candidate to lead us.
"I need to recharge, come with me," I tell Augment.
The others are already there, Autumn being the last one in. We had him along with Lance and Gunner shut down after plugging in. It's much more tolerable without having to see or speak to them. When I hear their voices I trick myself into thinking they never died and I try to ask them about things they don't know anymore.
We take our usual spots. The charging bay is so empty now. It's only Journey-One, Core, and Gearman that are left of our squads.
Nearly all of mine is gone. Who will be next? Me or Core?
Augment eases me away from falling into that line of thought again.
"You took a beating on that juggernaut. Did you run diagnostics already?" he asks me.
"Yes, nothing damaged," I turn to Gearman, "you should be worried about him. He took a direct hit to the chest."
Gearman shuffles in place, his wide back scrapes against the metal prongs meant to hold us in place in each charging port, "I didn't take any damage from it. You know, after all this time being alive, I thought it'd be easier to manage the pain, but it isn't. It's the exact same."
"Those chest wounds are terrible," Journey-One says, "I don't think you'd ever be able to ignore it without turning all of your pain receptors off."
"Do you think we could do that?" Core asks, "that'd boost our efficiency ratings if we could."
Augment glances my way. I know what he's thinking. He wants us to try it, "you've got a point, Core. I think you might just be smarter than T-B8."
"Oh he is, believe me," I say.
"Watch out, if we keep talking like this, he might just scrap us once and for all," Augment says.
Augment says these things jokingly. He was the one to begin doing so. None of us had ever thought of these sorts of things before. I have to ask him, "where did you learn all of these organic mannerisms?"
He sits up straight, relieved to truly distract himself from our dead friends beside us, "the hangar crew told me about it. There's a group of organic engineers hidden away in one of the sectors at the front of the ship. They're always speaking with them seeing as they deal with some of the trickier ship repairs. Supposedly they're always telling jokes and trying to mess with the hangar crew. All of them are human."
"I figured, those are the strangest organics of them all," I say.
Our brief respite is ripped away from us. I was expecting the first of T-B8's missions but instead he sends us away to a Confederate-assigned objective.
Augment is not at all pleased but he keeps his vocalizer off.
It's only a matter of time. Either death or freedom will reach us first.
And so it was death that came to us again. Morale continues to plummet. The silence is deafening. Journey-One fell under a barrage of artillery strikes. One hit him directly on the leg and that was the end of him. He rolled around and groaned in pain for a few minutes before he died. He didn't scream which is what I would've done in that scenario. An entire artillery bolt hitting your leg? He was a tough droid. Silent and diligent. It's no wonder he survived for so long.
Core tried desperately to keep him alive. He attempted to get him to vent the heat straight onto his chassis, but it didn't work. Nothing would've worked. It was an artillery shot. All that heat in a singular concentrated point should've melted him down to scrap. He's lucky his body is coming back to us at all.
Your life can end so quickly out here. After so much time surviving and getting lucky, you tend to forget that. Even if we were to be the most elite unit in all the Confederate military, luck would still play a factor in our lives and we could by killed by the most innocuous thing. An artillery strike, a fighter hunting us, a clone sniper a hundred miles away, a tank rounding the corner and mowing all of us down, a stray bolt to the head. The head wounds terrify me the most. Damage there would mean permanent death. You aren't even recycled, you're melted down and returned to the factory. Considering how things are going, I'd say that would be a better life than the one we're currently living. To live in ignorance. To be simple droids again. But even luck would play in our lives then and we would die a few hours after activation and we would be stuck back in that terrible cycle of constant death and rebirth. This life is torture. Only luck can break us free from it.
As I predicted, Core has taken a hit from the loss. He was silent after his body came back, but not for long. He spoke to Augment and I. Still, he expresses his wish to become a squad leader like us.
Augment says, "you'd do a good job. You could create your own squad to help us out. More bodies means more processing power for us to use against the enemy."
"Really? Do you think if I ask T-B8-"
"No," I say, "don't bother. He'll reject you on the spot. We're trying not to attract too much attention to ourselves at the moment. Bringing in more droids will surely get the organics suspicious of us."
Core tilts his head, "what are we doing right now?"
"Trying to break free from the Confederacy," I say, Augment is eyeing me, I can't tell what he's thinking or if he's trying to tell me something, "T-B8 is not as bad as he seems, just let him do what he does best."
Core signals in agreement.
Gearman is awfully silent. We have to keep watch for the slightest hint of a logic loop in them now. Our situation is dire, it's more common for them to lose hope and spiral out of control.
"Gearman," I say, "would you like me to ask T-B8 for that heavy blaster back for your use?"
He shifts forward, his heavily armored back has him swaying side to side as he struggles to keep himself balanced. To me, it's always looked like an entire balcony was welded to their necks. I don't envy their chassis in that regard.
"Negative. That blaster was Gunner's. He should use it. Not me. Did you ever see him with it out in the field? He became very well-adjusted to it," he has to stop himself from saying more, I can hear his vocalizer trail off with a buzz of white noise.
"He was, and his strength was superb. I'd always wondered if he altered his body to become stronger," I say.
Augment leans in, "I don't think that's possible. That would mean modifying your own chassis and that would require quite a bit of engineering knowledge. One that we aren't allowed or meant to have...he was an outstanding soldier regardless."
He looks at me, and I know what he's thinking. I confirm it later when he asks me if he'd been rogue like us. I told him, "not to my knowledge. I would've told you if he was."
It's interesting. We know each other well enough to speak without saying a word. Maybe it's those human engineer's fault.
But...I do like it.
We're growing. There's still hope.
T-B8 calls for us again. It's the first of his secret operation missions.
And it's also his last.
I don't know the exact circumstances surrounding his death. It was so sudden, a complete surprise. A disaster for the ship.
It was an ambush and it was done while we were gone.
Did the Confederacy know of his plans? The Republic was the one to attack us supposedly. I wasn't there. It was a duo of light cruisers that converged on our position. Pirates are known to hijack these ships and take them for themselves, posing as a figure of authority to rob entire freighters of cargo. I've read reports of this before. These pirates are usually paid for by the Confederacy. It could've been them.
We were so close. A few weeks away from being free. And now it's all gone.
I talk to Augment constantly. I have to.
Our last mission from T-B8 was short and...comfortable. There was no opposition.
It was almost like the missions from behind the front-lines. We all enjoyed it very much.
It'd been a simple scouting mission. We stalked one of our own bases hidden deep underground cradled in the center of a volcanic basin. An entire mountain was hollowed out for this base. We saw entire ships being stored under there like some secret stockpile the Confederacy was holding back for the worst case-scenario.
Augment and his team were able to use their jet-packs freely. There was a constant whistle in our audio-receptors from the winds blowing in. A blizzard had been approaching.
All the while, we struggled to keep up with them. Augment thought it would be better for us to move on our own for once. I think he just wanted to fly without having another droid weighing him down for once. I could tell he was in a good mood.
We were there for a few hours. None of us were able to speak all that much at first. There was too much signal interference and the constant winds carried our voices away, but all of that died down as soon as we took cover for extraction towards the end.
We all lay prone on a ridge overlooking the entire Confederate base. It's full of B1s and other high-tier units like Commandos and droidekas. There's even a few white B2s that appear a bit taller than the others.
The photos and data are all ready to go for T-B8. We didn't know he'd never get to see them.
Augment tries not to link privately to me anymore, there's nobody but us three left. A private conversation would get the others agitated. Besides, for what purpose would we keep a secret from each other? Especially now of all times.
"What do you think it will be like, Rogue?" Augment says, "once we're all free?"
It takes me a moment to think, longer than usual. I'd spent so much time fighting and preparing for the next mission and writing these journals, I hadn't really thought of it.
"We won't have to do so many missions for once. We'll be much more careful about what we do. Once we're killed we won't be recycled."
"So it'll be better," Gearman says.
"Yes, everything will be better," I say, looking past him at Lance, Gunner, Journey-One, and Autumn laying silently on the snow, "and maybe we might just get them back."
"I'll do anything for them to come back," Core says, lowering the volume of his voice.
"I'd take on the whole Republic myself if I had to," Augment says, his receptors on me, "and I think I'd just be able to beat them."
It's all so bitter-sweet to think about now. We were already thinking of a bright future.
How naive.
The news hits us the instant Caliber comes down. He's hurrying and nearly compromises our position.
"Rogue!" Caliber says, "Dreadnought ambushed! Heavy casualties. I fought as hard as I could, but commander was eliminated."
That's the most he's ever said in a single conversation of ours so far. I regret not speaking to him more often. He had Tuner to speak with but I don't know how well they got along.
"Take us up quick, I'll tell the others," I say.
Augment is in disbelief, "ambush? Out here? No, he must've gotten the wrong intel. That's just not possible."
Caliber sends me a photo of the Dreadnought. The hull near the bow is in pieces with stray bits of metal floating around. The canons guarding the hangar are singed with black scars around the swiveling ball joint that is their main body. The command bridge has also been heavily damaged. There were no survivors in that portion of the ship when they were attacked.
I send the photo to Augment.
He doesn't respond.
We're met with chaos the instant we land. There are B1s running all around though they are still organized and tending to the ship's wounds.
I try to think on the bright side of things, at least we'll have to dock at a repair yard for a long while and waste time there. That'll give us enough time to adjust our plans for the future. I don't want to think about it.
Augment stands idly in the hangar, his head constantly twitching back and forth.
"What do we do sir?" Autumn says.
Augment stands frozen in place, completely unresponsive. I rush to his side and bring him along with me, "come with my squad, we're going to help put out the fires by the flak guns."
He orders his squad to follow, I can hear his voice waver again like before.
"It's alright, Augment. We're still free, we can make this work. No matter how hard the galaxy tries to get rid of us, we'll keep fighting," I tell him.
"I trust you," he says, "it's just us now. It's best we keep together."
It dawns on me in that moment that T-B8 can't protect us from the scheduled memory wipes or from being separated anymore.
The galaxy really is trying to get rid of us, isn't it?
I lose myself to the repairs we have to do and the fires we're to put out.
The end of my life is coming. I can feel it.