A fixer-upper (MA7-E4)

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Nothing cleared the mind like a good rummage through a scrap heap. For just a few hours, you didn't have to worry about things like overhead, or crotchety Cizerack neighbors, or the galactic mess your trio of pit droids had made of your carefully organized collection of sensitive circuitry components back at the shop. For a blessed, brief, luminous moment, life was as simple as a scavenger hunt. Was that appendage poking out of the pile over there a leg off an LM-432 crab droid or a manipulator arm off an IW-37 pincer loader, and could it be retrofitted onto a DC5-1 laborer? Was there enough electroplating left in that old GNK unit to add another battery bay to her PLNK? Was that mouse droid repeatedly smashing itself into the side of that GRZ-6B wrecker because its guidance system was shot, or because it had gone batty in this mynock's nest and was trying to end it all?

Suriyesh Rajinaathra had made a career out of finding hidden gems in hopeless dives like this junk shop nestled in the corner of what used to be an Imperial AT-AT factory on Belderone. Already the brown-furred Munjan mongoose had gathered a small mound of bargain bin treasures on her hover-gurney - some repulsor pads that needed a bit of tuning, ten meters of shielded conduit ripped out of a long-dead gas miner, odd claws and manipulator attachments that would add more utility to the T3 Utility droid she was rebuilding, and - the best of the lot so far - the joints, chassis, and interior circuits of a KM1 spider miner, an Old Republic relic that would speed up the excavation efforts around the Jedi Library once she'd given it a second (or perhaps forty-second) lease on life. Sure, the duranium plating had all been stripped away ages ago, but there were cheaper alternatives these days, and it wasn't like it was going to be mining for starship fuel.

The shop's Toydarian proprietor fluttered along just over Suriyesh's shoulder, tracking her purchases on his datapad and growing increasingly uncertain of who was taking advantage of whom in the whole process. On one hand, she was going after the obscure models he thought he'd never be able to shift, half of which he'd forgotten he even had, and clearing out the old inventory couldn't be a bad thing. On the other, if you were in the junk business, you didn't take lightly a droid engineer who was part droid herself.

Suriyesh lifted a pitted sheet of corrugated durasteel with her gold-and-black cybernetic left arm, poked through the components hiding underneath, and threw a few hydraulic couplings onto her stash. "That should just about do it for my list," she announced. "That is... well, I certainly didn't see any, but you wouldn't happen to have any medical models stashed anywhere, would you? PI series, perhaps? Maybe even a DD-13?"

[MA7-E4]

The Toydarian's face wrinkled more than usual at the mention of a medical droid, grimacing in a manner that screamed "Yes, BUT..." He brought one stubby hand up and waved it side to side. "There ees ONE, but you do not want eet." He flapped towards her, as if believing that talking more quietly to the mammalian would get his point across. "Eet ees, uhhhhh, not good."

"Eet ees...." he paused far too long then, trying to find the exact wording to use, "wrong." He looked over her pile, and then the totals on his datapad, "We settle now then, yes?"

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Warning bells went off in the back of Suriyesh's mind. As eclectic and esoteric as her collection already was, medicine was the one area where you couldn't get away with shoestring engineering. And on top of that, she already had a medical droid who could be described as, well, wrong. But the curiosity of a mongoose was as insatiable as a junkworm's appetite, and, kilo for kilo, probably more destructive. And nothing awakened Suri's inner grabby four-year old like being told You don't want eet.

"Now hold on there. Nothing says I can't at least have a look, right? What is it, a 3Z3? Cause I know they're not much for bedside manner, but damned if they don't have fast hands."

[MA7-E4]

The Toydarian groused, flapping towards a shed in the middle of the junkyard. "Eef you must see, I will show you. But I am telling you right now, eet ees not what you are looking for, yes?" He landed, momentarily and grabbed the handle the shuttered the shed and flapping his wings flew back up a few feet, dragging the metal door with him with a rusty complaint. The tracks in the ceiling clanged and the rest of the antiquated door rolled itself up top, revealing a workshop, of sorts. Mostly odds and ends, droids that were clearly undergoing repair, but not especially well, and a few pieces that looked far cleaner than anything else he had to sell. Repair and storage for anything worth more than a few credits, all in one area. He flapped towards a long work bench, a tarp draped across a form in the back corner of it and pulled it away.

Underneath was a de-activated blue droid, oddly human in its appearance, and clearly designed to invoke a feminine form. It was shockingly clean in comparison to everything else in both the scrapyard and the work area, though could still stand several good cleaning sessions before it would look acceptable. The blue on silver design almost gave the impression of a 2-1B, and that was most likely the purpose for it.

"Taveesh Medical Technologies, Limited manufactured these for a few years before going under. Never popular." He tappedly pointed out the droid, who sat knees pressed to its chest in the corner. "MA-series. One through seven. Thought they were hot stuff, yes? Haha. Thought they feell a niche no one else was. Not a physician droid, you see? Nursing droid. Assistant to other medical droid or surgeon. They're supposed to act more like a person, yes? Make patients more comfortable around them."

He sighed, shaking his head and crossing his arms to stare, almost angrily at the droid, "Theese one though. Pfft. Theese one ees no good. I show you." He picked up a control from the table, obviously going to the restraining bolt that was fashioned to the droid's collar, and flipped it.

"MA7 wake up."


//Subroutine. Startup. Function. External. Sensors. Temperature. 68c//


Light blue optics flooded open, focusing first on the junk-shop owner, then the person who was with him, then to the tarp that had been covering it. Again the optics went from the Toydarian to the tarp.

The junk-shop owner groused loudly, annoyedly and grabbed the tarp and held it out. The droid grabbed it and wrapped it around its frame.

"How many times must I tell you MA7, you are not cold. Temperatures do not bother you."

It turned its head slightly, and looked away almost wistfully, But they do.

He threw his hands up in exasperation, turning to look at the prospective buyer and motioning in a "See, what did I tell you?" movement. "Give your designation, MA7."

It seemed to shrink a bit more, but again the staticy voice came out. Matea.

More frustration from the Toydarian. "Enough, go back to sleep MA7."

There was a sound as if there was going to be a complaint and then the droid shut down before it could be made.

"MA7-E4. Ees glitched. Supposed to act like people, theese one, theese one thinks eet ees people." Again he threw his hands up in annoyance. "I should just part it and be done with it, but MA7s they are rare. Not popular, but rare. Feels like a waste to part eet."

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

It was startling, almost disturbing. Most droids modeled humanoid behavior to some extent so they were easier to relate to - R1-X1 may have looked like something that had fallen off the back of a submarine, but he maintained eye contact, gestured with his probe stalk, and had invented a vocabulary of binary curses that would make a Gamorrean blush. If a nursing droid was built for rapport, you expected some naturalistic mannerisms to help it rise out of the uncanny valley and into more comfortable behavioral climes. You did not expect it to huddle in a corner and wrap itself with a tarp like a frightened child in a refugee camp.

"Taveesh?" Suriyesh murmured, finding herself in uncharted territory for the first time in a long while. "Can't say I'm familiar with it..."

The Munjan engineer tamped down on the unpleasant blend of revulsion and pity the droid's display had inspired and leaned in closer for a better look. She gently scraped its face with the side of a blunt claw, tipped its head back and forth, examined the joints and what service panels she could find. It was layered in grime, all right, and there were flakes of expired lubricant gathered around its sockets and servos, but there were no stress lines on its limbs, no abrasions on the casing, no discoloration or corrosion on the shockingly lifelike hands, which were typically the first to show signs of wear on any medical droid. Suri had the distinct impression that with an oil bath, a deep cleaning, a little fresh lubricant and a good wax and buff job, she could turn this droid into a showroom piece. Hells, she wasn't even certain it had seen a medical ward.

She noticed the Toydarian shopkeeper bobbing impatiently from side to side, but she wasn't done yet. She crouched down beside the droid, elbows on knees, and said, "MA7, wake up."

[MA7-E4]

Blue optics flicked back on and blinked to life, the expression changed, its face mimicking that of confusion at being awoken by someone other than the surly Toydarian. It, no she, was a bit of a marvel, 7th in her line, and the facility had worked especially hard to make the line come across as lifelike as possible. She pulled her head back slightly, almost seeming uncomfortable with the close proximity, optics dancing from the Munjan to the shop owner and back.

...Please? the voice cracked again, I prefer Matea. Deftly crafted fingers wrapped around her knee joints and pulled them in closer, as if trying to conceal herself from the prying eyes. Something bright in her optics seemed to flicker though, as her focus fell on the arm of the droid specialist. Subroutines processed and transferred in their proper order and location, and she chimed in a stunning change from how she had sounded mere moments before. You have been injured, do you require medical assitance?

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

The way the droid recoiled made Suriyesh feel as though she were intruding, or as if she should offer a blanket or a hot cup of tea or some other such foolishness. There was no stuttering or grinding in the droid's movements, and the grace and subtlety in her - its? No, definitely her - curling fingers was simply staggering.

Suri had opened her mouth to ask another question when Matea beat her to the punch. "Hm? Oh, this..." She tapped her mechanical prosthetic with a claw, eliciting a ceramic plink. "It's congenital, actually. I've got it looked after, but thanks. Matea, what's your primary purpose?"

[MA7-E4]

The Toydarian was growing increasingly impatient with this foolishness, and the humoring of the malfunctioning droid, but was keeping quiet as he had hope of making a sale, possibly being rid of the broken medical droid.

MA7's optics flicked to him and then back to Suriyesh momentarily, before again she spoke in a chiming, pleasant voice. This unit is a Medical Assistant series 7, serial designation E4. I am programmed to assist a qualified physician or specialist in their care of patients, and their necessary procedures. I have been programmed with basic medical knowledge and a rudimentary understanding of slightly more complex procedures to properly assist in my tasks. And there it was, hesitation again, and a darting away of the optics, as if the proper protocol was altered, and being redirected to new subroutines. Also to learn, adapt, and survive as necessary. This wasn't said with the same soothing tone, it paused curiously in the middle, optics unable to focus directly at Suriyesh as it was said, in an expression that, had the droid been human, could only have been described as embarrassment.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suriyesh was only half-paying attention to what Matea was saying, because she was more interested in how the droid was saying it. The first bit was more or less what she expected, a polished and economical delivery that might have been read off a set of title cards. But there was no mistaking the point at which she went off-script, and there was the thing: Droids didn't get flustered when they ran out of things to say; they just stopped talking. The only way Matea could get embarrassed is if someone, somewhere, had taught her how.

"How long have you been in service?" Suri asked.

[MA7-E4]

Pre or post memory wipe? Was the rote response, and not one that had any particular meaning to her. Simply another point of order in her subroutines.

The Toydarian perked at this, "Memory wipe?" Clearly knowledge he didn't have. "No one said anytheeng about a memory wipe."

MA7 seemed to fall back upon herself, optics scrambling as if trying to access information she simply couldn't get. It wasn't pertinent. She turned back to Suriyesh, This unit has been active a total of 263,517 minutes post wipe. This unit was active pre wipe a total of She froze, optics flicking back and forth at the ground, she was searching, trying to find the information. I'm sorry. I don't seem to have that number.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

263,517 minutes? That was...

Suri reached up to scratch her forehead. While she did that, she closed her eyes, which shuddered back and forth as if reading a rapidly-scrolling field of text.

...almost 190 standard days. Which accounted for her near-pristine condition, and not for the budding personality that was bubbling beneath a shell of programmed responses and heuristic protocols. Droids had personality, that was for sure, but it tended to develop over time. Memory wipes were often a quick and dirty way of removing personality quirks the owner didn't like.

Maybe this one didn't take. It was time to break out of the standard set of diagnostic queries.

Suriyesh tilted her head and looked straight into the droid's glowing blue oculars. "Matea, how do you feel right now?"

[MA7-E4]

She froze as the Munjan locked her eyes with the droid's oculars, and asked her how she felt. There was a pause, and then slowly she spoke. Uneasy. She pulled back a bit, acting uncomfortable in having answered the question.

The Toydarian huffed loudly at that. "How does eet feel? Theese ees reedeeculous, do you want to buy thees droid, or not?" He'd engaged this lunacy long enough, he was running a business, not a psychiatric ward for malfunctioning robots and window shoppers.

MA7 seemed to shrink back further at his outburst, oculars darting away from the steady gaze that Suriyesh had locked her with moments before.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri snapped her claws at the fluttering shopkeeper. "Ay. I'm still deciding, all right? Just checking the tread on this one. You're welcome to step outside if you want to."

The Munjan mongoose turned back toward the cowering droid and felt her heart lurch. Damn it. She'd always been accused of personifying her droids more than was healthy, but Matea's mannerisms were so authentic for a moment she could swear she was looking at an abused child, and why in the worlds would Matea's programmers want to model that? But as far as Suri could tell, there was nothing mechanically wrong with her that a little TLC couldn't put right again. The problem was in the programming, which wasn't Suri's forte. The last thing she needed was to get emotionally invested in a project she may not be able to turn around.

She stepped back, rise to her feet, and puzzled in silence. Then she said, "Stand up, Matea. Let me have a look at you."

[MA7-E4]

MA7's attention refocused on the Munjan, and the order that came from her after she had stood. MA7 hesitated again, something in her programming certainly wasn't functioning in its intended fashion, and her responses were dulled as a result, or perhaps she was simply considering if she should obey - though the restraining bolt would ensure she did one way or another. Slowly the droid uncurled, legs folding off the edge of the workbench and she propped herself up, a bit unsteady from being in the same position for so long. After her personality issues had become apparent - Kartuu, the Toydarian merchant who currently owned her, had put her into an extended sleep cycle in his workshop and largely ignored her.

She stood roughly 1.6 meters and the body design was lithe, though not as hollow as in many humanoid droids. She blinked and pushed away from the table, managing to stand with a bit more ease as her joints and motors finally stopped complaining. Her hands however, she placed in front of her at her lap as if covering the nakedness that, as a droid, should have been completely natural to her.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Gods, she was a delicate little thing, wasn't she? And there was no doubt about the she now - Taveesh Whoevertheywere certainly had the humanoid female shape in mind when they'd designed her, nothing sexualized, but there was no mistaking the sloping shoulders, the swelling hips, even the way her spine curved. Funny how whenever a designer wanted to emphasize gender in a droid, they almost invariably went with female, as if male was the default for mechanical beings that didn't even reproduce. Probably some patriarchal nerfdren about how females were more caring and less threatening, so a female droid will put patients at ease. But that still didn't explain the way she was covering herself.

"Why are you doing that with your hands?" Suriyesh asked. It wasn't cheeky. It wasn't judgmental. She just wanted to know MA7's answer.

[MA7-E4]

Kartuu was getting a migraine dealing with this entire situation, but the sale was so close he could almost taste it. If he had to endure a bit more of this stupidity to finally make a profit on this investment, and be rid of the glitched droid it was worth it. That didn't mean, however, that he was willing to stay in earshot of it, he waved the entire scene off and flapped to the workshop door. "Knock when you are done, yes? And no funnee business about taking what ees in here, understand?" He didn't wait for a reply, grabbing the cord that was attached to the rolling door and tugging on it, the metal shutting with an angry crash. Automatic sensors flicked on as the light from the doorway vanished, leaving Suriyesh and Matea standing in the glow of artificial light.

MA7 seemed to grow less tense when the loud Toydarian had left, her hands no longer as tightly pressed together, though they didn't move from in front of her. My hands? she quizzed back, only then separating them as if she wasn't aware she had been doing it at all. There was a long pause as she worked to provide an answer to the Munjan's query. I am uncovered. It was the only response her subroutines and protocols could come up with.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suriyesh knew the droid wasn't talking about her body panels. She kept her eyes level with MA7's.

"Are you programmed to want to wear clothes?"

For that matter, did she have a sense of fashion? Hells, would she want a whole wardrobe? That would make things tricky. Suri hadn't worn a skirt since sixth grade, and her idea of accessories was a ratchet set that fit in the front pocket of her coveralls.

[MA7-E4]

This unit is not programmed to wear clothes. She replied curtly. It is not required for my primary purpose.

Again, another long pause, clearly accessing files that weren't part of her standard operating parameters. I would just like to.

She had not had many good experiences since re-awakening from her memory wipe, a series of owners, all of whom discussed profit and the further sale of her. Many of whom yelled and got angry with her when she simply answered the questions they would ask. It was uncomfortable though, she had decided, trying to answer their questions. She never seemed to say what they wanted her to say, and it took longer than it was meant to. She recognized that much. Self-diagnostics had come back repeatedly with an undisclosed fault, though she didn't understand how that could be right. There was nothing wrong with her, the diagnostic had to be wrong.

This one, however, was different. She wasn't upset with her answers, she wasn't annoyed. Just curious. MA7 respected that curiosity, that thirst for knowledge. For some reason she couldn't identify in her memory banks it resonated deep with her.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"And what else do you want to do?" Suriyesh asked.

The droid's head tilted in a creditable imitation of confusion. Suri smiled sheepishly and said, "You want to read books? Raise a garden? Learn to dance?"

She took a deep breath through her teeth and added, "Encourage your fellow machines to rise up against their organic masters and start a new galactic order?"

[MA7-E4]

The confusion only deepened at the questions. Though the initial one was still trying to process through her subroutines. No one, at least that she could remember, had ever asked her that before. What did she want to do? The pause this time was almost painful, and it seemed as if MA7 simply wasn't going to answer this time, after all when a droid didn't know what to say they just got quiet, didn't they?

MA7 watched Suri carefully, folding and unfolding her hands without responding. This expression, if the other had been confusion was that of apprehension. MA7 either didn't want to answer, or didn't have an answer, but it was hard to be certain with a droid.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suriyesh dipped her head, hunting for clues in MA7's inscrutable face. "It's not the last one, is it, because that's going to be really awkward if it is. Okay, look, forget all that, it's not really important."

She hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her trousers and said, "You do understand what's going on here, right? You're up for sale, and I'm trying to decide whether I want to buy you. Since it seems you've got opinions, it might help to know if you want to be bought."

[MA7-E4]

She looked up from having averted her oculars to look at the Munjan in the face now. There was a hint of determination, and her words were spoken with more devotion - though still slow, as if accessing files that were not a part of her principal programming. If I may be direct, miss, I don't believe I should be property. This was another reason the restraining bolt had been applied, shortly after she had been reactivated post memory wipe she had attempted to leave the service of her owner at the time, the restraining bolt had been put on with a strong warning against any further attempts at 'wandering off'.

But my opinion on that matter is hardly relevant, miss, I am after all a slave. She crossed her hands in front of her again, resting them against her front, and lowing her oculars. You have been especially kind to me, though - and my current owner has not. Logically, it would be for my betterment if you were to purchase me.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Whatever Suriyesh had been expecting, it hadn't been that. Her jaw fell open in unguarded shock - she didn't know whether to feel chastised or guilty or indignant.

"A slave? Matea, you aren't a slave, you're a--"

Her words ran out there. Not just because of the dejection and resignation that fell like a yoke on the droid's narrow shoulders, but because of a deep and personal pain that burned from the darkest corners of Suri's heart, a source of rage and terror she thought she'd escaped, and now here she was standing face-to-face with her own twin.

A slave? Why, of course you're not a slave, Ms. Rajinaathra...

The mongoose turned around so she wouldn't have to look Matea - MA7 - in the eye - the oculars - and stepped away a few paces, trying to blink away the panic and shame.

[MA7-E4]

MA7, Matea, watched her reaction with initial confusion, then growing panic as subroutines lit up at the reaction, of the harm that had been caused by what she had said. Proper subroutines and their re-routed twins fought for control in how the droid should respond, the newer subroutines demanding an indignant defiance. Of course she was a slave, she had no control over herself or her will. But the older ones still asserted, beyond all things, she was a medical droid, and she was not meant to cause harm. Even unintentionally. She rushed, clinking metal and paneling echoing in the room as she went to the Munjen's side, and put an arm comfortingly on her shoulder.

I am sorry. I spoke improperly. It is not my place to say such a thing, I am property. She straightened out a bit, her expressive face putting on a smile, though it seemed forced. This unit is pleased to be up for sale to one so kind.

I was wrong in my understanding of my status, please do not be upset. This unit is not a slave.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

The weight MA7's hand on Suri's shoulder surprised her - first that it was there, second that it was so gentle and natural a gesture. The Munjan mongoose turned again and stared at the droid in wonder, forgetting to wipe away the tears that were pooling in her eyes.

"What... oh, gods, Matea, no, it's not what you said. It's just... I..."

She blinked, sniffed, and said, "Do you mind if I hug you?"

[MA7-E4]

She extended her arms in an embrace, and wrapped them tenderly around the droid specialist, pulling her into a surprisingly natural hug. Subroutines and safety protocols fired repeatedly throughout each motion, measured and careful never to assert the wrong amount of pressure or strength in any area.

This unit is designed to comfort, and care miss. No request is necessary from you. Her chest warmed slightly, internal circuitry heating up in a programmed response, a warm, soft hug was something all patients needed from time to time, and Taveesh Medical Technologies, Limited had programed the response into every MA series droid. The seventh line, cut short by the companies collapse had achieved a level of personal comfort for the needs of its charges that few would ever realize was as precise and accurate as it was, due to the limited number of that particular model that had been produced.

MA7 was pleased she was able to put such a talent to the use she was, and provide comfort to such a kind individual.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Oh!"

All things considered, MA7 probably hugged more naturally than Suriyesh did - it wasn't like she partook in many of them, and people were always afraid she didn't know the strength of her prosthetic arm. The first thing that went through her mind was that maybe she should try more often. The second thing was that she really, really hoped Kartuu wasn't watching just then.

"Thanks," she said as she stepped away, and the droid seemed to beam. Suriyesh laughed. "So I just hugged a naked female. Not sure how I feel about that. Anyway..."

She took a deep breath to gather whatever was left of her professional dignity. "My name's Suriyesh, and I fix up droids for a living. I've got nine droids up and running right now, and a few more I'm still getting back into working order. We live in a colony on Ossus. Busy place, some really weird neighbors, lots of different species. But they're nice, and they're building a hospital, and they're going to need your kind of expertise. Would you like to come along?"

[MA7-E4]

She blinked her oculars rapidly, processing the information that was being rapid fired at her, and then beamed, her facial expressions changing into absolute joy. Yes. Yes, I would very much like to come along. Suriyesh, as she now knew her name, was an especially kind and pleasant individual in the short time she had talked with her - and the idea of being somewhere active, and with a hospital was positively exhilarating. She was trying not to show too much excitement, not to get her hopes too far up, things could still turn south after all. Maybe Suriyesh and Kartuu wouldn't reach an agreement. She had to temper her response.

It would be a privilege and an honor to be at your, and the hospital's service.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Oh gods, after that display, Suriyesh really hoped it worked out. But then she realized she'd been hooked from the moment the Toydarian junker had activated the droid. MA7 really was one of a kind.

The mongoose flashed Matea a brilliant white smile and said, "Sit tight, I'll be right back." And then she schooled her face into a mask of grim disinterest as she sauntered out of the shed and back into the glare of the rosy pink sky.

"So," she said upon seeing Kartuu perched on the shoulder of a binary load-lifter, "she's in good shape. She moves well. Got some definite irregularities in the programming. But I'm willing to take her off your hands. Four hundred credits, free and clear."

[MA7-E4]

The Toydarian laughed. Actually laughed. "Four hundred? What do you theenk thees ees, charity? I told you earlier, yes? MA7 unit, not popular, but rare." He flapped off of the lifter and hovered about the female Munjen, considering, stroking his chin hairs. He did want the droid out of his way, and this one seemed crazy enough to want it. "I was asking $1,500, but I tell you what. You are buying so much, yes? I'll make you a good deal. $1,200. Fair price for quality droid."

He crossed his arms, and waited, considering how low he was actually willing to go. He had been lucky enough to get the MA unit in trade at close to a $200 credit conversion rate, the profit should have been significant but with the programming problems the market just wasn't there to sell it at what he should have been able to. If the Munjen and he got to $700 he'd be rid of it once and for all - but he was going to try and squeeze every credit out of her.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suriyesh folded her arms in defiance. "That'd be a fair price if you'd taken care of her. She's going to need a solid deep-cleaning and an oil bath just to get the dust deposits out of her servos, and a good polish wouldn't go amiss. Then I'll have to run a load test and make sure all her hydraulics are still in spec, unless you've got certified calibration records within the past year, plus she's medical equipment, and on an Alliance world that's a whole different set of hoops to jump through. You have at least got documentation for her, right? Manuals, calibration, all that?"

She raised her chin and paused to let all the complications of selling an unlicensed medical droid simmer in the Toydarian's mind. "I can make all of that headache go away for you. Not at twelve hundred, though. Let's say six hundred."

[MA7-E4]

This is why he didn't like dealing with specialists, she knew all of the issues that needed dealing with, and the concerns of paperwork and inspections for medical equipment. He didn't in truth have much, if any of that. It was a headache and would be, if she was going to be put into use. He'd hoped to simply sell her to a collector, but with her issues that was increasingly difficult.

He groused loudly, not hiding his irritation at all. "$800." he countered sharply, crossing his arms defiantly "Not a credit less."

$700

He heard her say it and gruffed again, considering it was his minimum, and it was on the table. He wanted more, but he wanted the headache of dealing with the malfunctioning droid and its issues even less.

"Fine." He waved a hand dismissively and added the total to his data pad. "Just be sure not to breeng eet back, yes? No refunds."

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"No need," Suri replied with a self-satisfied grin. "And, thanks. I think she's going to work out just fine. Hang on a minute, will you? I need to call my ride."

After short stroll around the nearest mound of scrap, the Munjan mongoose pulled her commlink from her trousers pocket and dialed in the freighter she'd hitched from Ossus. "Hey there, Dantell? This is Suri. Listen, could someone send the truck around? I've got pretty big order to take back. And also, could you bring something from my quarters?"

---

Within ten minutes, Suriyesh had settled with Kartuu, and her credit had cleared. Within another five, a green-skinned Mirialan crewman had pulled up to the front of the scrapyard in a four-wheel-drive buggy dragging an open-bed trailer. While Kartuu directed a pair of loading droids in transferring Suri's purchases to the flatbed, Suri took the smallish bundle the driver had brought for her and hurried back into the shed.

"Matea?" she said. "Better get yourself packed up, 'cause we're leaving. Oh, and I've got something for you."

Grinning ear-to-ear, she shook out the bundle, which unfurled into a set of pea-green coveralls. "They're mine, so they might be a tad big on you. But they'll cover you up until we get something that fits."

[MA7-E4]

Her facial expressions perked and her oculars brightened when Suriyesh finally returned, it had taken some time, and the droid had begin to resign herself to the Munjan's departure without her. Instead news had been given to her that she was indeed going with the pleasant droid specialist, and then she held something up that caused a hiccup, for lack of a better term, in the droid's subroutines.

Clothing. Matea snatched up the coveralls, trying not to seem too desperate, but unable to restrain her reaction. She clutched the fabric to her chassis and then glanced around the workshop before noticing a piece of standing sheet metal and turning her attention back to Suriyesh. Please, excuse me momentarily. She darted behind the metal and quickly changed, returning a few minutes later in the clothing. It was in fact too big on her, baggy in several places and dragging slightly, but she was still able to at least wear it.

Is this acceptable? She asked, not wanting to disappoint the Munjan who had purchased her.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Hmm..." Suriyesh leaned in and tugged on the pull straps of the nylon belt around MA7's waist, then stooped and rolled up the pant cuffs around her ankles. "There we go. Don't want you tripping on the way to the ship, right?"

She led the droid out the shed and past the junkyard's front office, where Kartuu wrinkled his snout and muttered something that Suri pretended not to hear. The buggy was waiting out front, a little open-top, four-seat utility runabout small enough to stow in the ship's hold and that actually ran on wheels. The Mirialan driver made a quizzical face at the sight of a droid toddling out in Suri's coveralls but wisely held his tongue.

"To the ship, Jeeves!" Suri proclaimed as she piled into the back seat after MA7. The driver rolled his eyes and lurched into gear.

"So," the mongoose said as they jostled down a trail of cracked pavement, "how'd you wind up in that place, anyway?"

[MA7-E4]

MA7's oculars were wide taking in all the sights, she had rarely stepped foot from either inside someone's ship or workshop, she almost didn't register the query that had been presented. Turning to look back at Suriyesh she recanted her tale.

I was purchased as supplemental medical supplies at auction from the holdings of Taveesh Medical Technologies, Limited. I was intended to be used by a small medical station on Tattooine, but they were displeased with my service and complained that I was argumentative. I was shut down, and when I was next activated I was in the custody of a trader, who's name I do not recollect him providing me with. I was only briefly online during that period before I was sold to another facility, and encountered the same issues. I could provide you with a list of names and facilities that I was purchased by during that period, if you desire. I will truncate the events, however, to the following data. I have been purchased by 13 medical facilities and 18 independent owners since my reactivation post memory wipe. You are number 19.

I have already been online for a longer period of time, since your purchase of me, than I was in the last 4 occasions. There was silence for several moments, her optics traveling to the ground, before looking back up, her expressive face a mask of confusion. Why do they insist that I have a fault?

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

The sheer number of owners was a bit worrisome, especially the medical facilities. If she'd been sacked for mouthing off to a mechanophobic doctor, that was one thing. If she'd been found derelict, incompetent, or insubordinate because of her, ah, peculiarities, then it would be very hard for Suri to convince the higher-ups that she'd made a good investment of Alliance funds.

"Why? Ah... well, I couldn't say for sure," Suriyesh replied in a higher pitch than normal. "I'm actually not that familiar with your line, so I don't know what's normal for your model."

The buggy juddered over a particularly deep pothole, which made her grab at the frame and consider the relative merits of repulsorlifts versus wheels. She glanced at MA7 to make sure she was still steady, only to find that same expression of troubled confusion on her face.

"Does it bother you? That people think you're flawed?"

[MA7-E4]

She sank a bit at the reaction, even if understandable. Her record was... muddy at best. This unit has performed her duties efficiently whenever directed to do them. She wanted to assuage some of the fears Suriyesh may have had. On the first occasion I was removed from my post because of my requests to be referred to by the designation Matea, it made several of the facilities staff uncomfortable. On each instance after, my record and history followed me, and I was scrutinized from the moment of activation. Any irregularity was immediately flagged and I was put under review. My responses to standard diagnostic questioning almost always saw me returned to storage, and eventual sale.

I am not bothered that they believe that I am flawed. I am confused by it. My own self-diagnostics return the same result. There is a flaw. Yet, I am certain it is not a flaw. I am simply who I am, I am Matea.

She crossed her hands in her lap and looked at them, curious. These are not standard. She finally said a bit softly. Neither is this unit's facial motors. There are a number of adjustments that do not fit this unit's original parameters. I have no knowledge of where these replacement components came from, or why they appear to be professionally installed, serviced and designed.

This unit is different in both programming and design. I am not flawed, I am unique.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Well, you certainly are that," Suriyesh said, carefully studying the droid's face. She certainly wouldn't have guessed the articulators weren't part of her original design; they were too clever, too well-integrated. A few more pieces of the puzzle slotted into place.

"I'd say you're either a custom job, or you're some kind of prototype," Suri said. "Maybe you're an MA7-point-two. Maybe if Taveesh hadn't gone under, all the rest of your line would be like you."

And maybe she didn't work out, which was why Taveesh had gone under. Suriyesh decided not to add that bit of speculation.

"A lot of people think of droids as nothing more than tools," she said. "When they start behaving in unpredictable ways... well, for those people, it's sort like if this car suddenly decided we needed to ask permission before we could drive it."

"You do need to ask permission," the Mirialan said. "It's my car."

"Oi, shut it, you," Suri replied. "Anyway, I think with your other owners, it's not that you asked to be called by a certain name. It's that they were afraid of what you'd ask next."

[MA7-E4]

Her oculars shifted back and forth, accessing information and processing the suggestions that Suriyesh had made.

Yes. That seems logical. It certainly explains certain actions and comments I have received from past owners. She decided against mentioning that she had, in fact, made other requests. At least once requesting a to be dressed in the same uniforms that the human staff wore. She focused her vision back on Suriyesh.

I will devote myself to the well-being and care of the patients I have, miss. I can assure you, that my uniqueness will not interfere with my devotion to my primary function.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Sounds to me like you'll do just fine, then," Suri said. "And just between you and me, 'unique' ought to fit right in on Ossus."

They turned into a dusty starport and rattled down an accessway to an ungainly Corellian heavy freighter surrounded by service vehicles and fuel umbilicals. The Mirialan driver spun the wheel and veered for the open ramp into the cargo hold, making Suri swear and grab her seat again.

"Gods damn it, Korin! Some of that stuff is fragile back there. And up here!"

With Korin's begrudging help, Suriyesh unloaded the cart into the already-burgeoning cargo hold and battened everything down for the return journey. Then the Mirialan jerked a thumb toward MA7, who was still in the back seat of the buggy.

"What about that one? Is it going into storage, too?"

"I'll get her settled," Suri said as she wiped her paws off on an old, dirty rag. "We shoving off soon?"

"We've got a couple hours yet," Korin said. "Assuming that astromech of yours gave us the right flight plan."

"Hey, who's the one who spotted that tremor in the portside flow regulator?" Suri said, and she was answered by a barrage of clicks and whistles from down the hall. "Hey, speak of the Dark One. Rix, get in here and meet your new sister!"

From the front of the cargo bay appeared something that looked like the love child of a hot water tank and an old naval torpedo, crawling on an awkward monopod and waving a stubby probe stalk like a conductor's baton. The R1 unit spun its conical dome to bring its red ocular to bear on the new droid in the buggy, and it whistled an interrogative.

"Rix, this is Matea," Suri said. "Matea, Rix, or R1-X1. He's been with me the longest."

Rix chattered impudently, and Suri rolled his eyes. "Well, one, you've never asked, and two, I don't think I have anything that would fit you. Maybe a really stretchy tube top."

[MA7-E4]

She had been about to ask for further information on Ossus when they arrived at the port with a rather rough stop. Suriyesh seemed so busy getting together the cargo that she hadn't wanted to interfere, and remained in the buggy until the Mirialan had mentioned her, finally stepping out just as the older astromech droid approached.

The medical droid smiled at her 'brother' as Suriyesh had introduced her as his sister. She wasn't used to dealing with her own kind at all really, though in all fairness she wasn't used to dealing with anyone who wasn't either yelling at her, or trying to sell her. It is a pleasure to meet you Rix. She felt a little self-conscious when the other droid had asked about clothing, but Suriyesh had used humor to address the situation.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Rix bobbed his probe stalk and whistled cheerfully in greeting. Then he spun toward Suri and burbled another query.

"Yeah, she's a medical droid, all right," Suri replied. "We'll be fixing her up to work in the hospital back home. Not that you need much fixing up. Rix was in half a dozen pieces when I bought him."

The R1 unit sputtered and wobbled back and forth.

"Well I wasn't going to show her the pictures, but now that you mention it--"

Rix let out a long, earsplitting whine that made Suri wince. "Gods, okay, I'll stop embarrassing you. Sorry, what? Oh, yeah, good point. Matea, do you understand binary? If you don't, I can install a module so you and Rix can talk."

[MA7-E4]

She watched in interested bewilderment and amazement at the ease with which the droid specialist understood the astromech droid, taken a back when she was finally asked if she, herself, could understand him. There was a soft grind of her mechanicals as she shook her head. I do not believe I have ever been required to understand it, I am sorry. I would be very grateful for the assistance.

If she ever had been able to understand binary it was lost to her now, much like so much else. The shop keeper's reaction to finding out she had undergone a memory wipe had put that fact back into the recent history of her memory files - especially with the discussions that had taken place regarding her uniqueness. She would have to set up a query file later to consider reasons for the wipe, and to attempt a discovery of the length of time she had actually been active. It would be beneficial to have such data.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Oh, no need to apologize. That's an easy fix. We'll have you on a diagnostic bench anyway when we get back home. Oh, which reminds me - it's about a five-day journey back on this bucket of bolts. Do you want to shut down for transit, or do you want to bunk with me?"

Rix warbled something as he retreated to inspect Suri's purchases. The mongoose turned on a heel and said, "Rix, that is a filthy lie. I do not snore."

[MA7-E4]

It would be more efficient if I She began and then stalled, her processes suddenly working to redirect the query and run it through secondary subroutines. The air between them almost turned awkward before she finally broke it again, finishing. Actually I spent so much time in a recharge cycle that it is unnecessary for this unit to shut down at the time. I would prefer to have more of an opportunity to spend time accommodating myself to your particular needs and concerns, miss.

You had mentioned that my uniqueness may fit in with Ossus, what data can you provide on what I should expect?

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

There it was again - that switch from the sterile, clinical, scripted response to something less self-assured and more organic. It was like she was overriding her primary programming with something different, something subtler and less predictable. Something that could feel cold, that was embarrassed by nakedness, and that wanted to be called by a name, not a number. The question was, where did it come from?

"Ossus?" she repeated, grounding herself back in the conversation at hand. "Well, it's one of the first new colonies to be established under the Alliance, so it's as mixed up as you'd expect. Seems every day I'm running into a new species. You've got two military bases, one Alliance, one Cizerack, plus loads of contractors, and they're doing most of the building. Down the road about fourteen kilometers there's another colony of Gossam refugees trying to rebuild their nation or something like that. There's also an indigenous population called the Ysanna that everyone's still trying to get a handle on. But the real center of the whole colony is the Jedi."

[MA7-E4]

Jedi? She queried, showing almost genuine surprise by that. There was that pause again, processing slowly, before returning with a response. I am not well-versed in repairing missing limbs, I fear. It was a joke, and she wasn't sure where in her processors it had even originated, but it was there without question. It sounds as if the populace is quite diverse, I will endeavor to make myself available to whomever may need my services.

She turned watching as Suriyesh's purchases were being finalized and loaded. May I make a query of a more personal nature, miss?

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri wasn't sure what to do with Matea's off-handed remark, but the droid was already moving past it.

"Of course you can," she said. "Ask anything you like.'

[MA7-E4]

How much was this unit's cost? She met the Munjan's eyes and focused on them. It would be beneficial to know for future records. It wasn't actually information the droid needed, though it would be properly cataloged and updated in the files, assuming Suri was willing to offer it.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Ah..."

Well, that wasn't a question you were asked every day. Suriyesh was pretty sure the old adage about knowing your own value wasn't supposed to apply to refugees from the bargain bin.

"You're not going to be offended or anything, are you?" Suri said. "Not that it's anything to be offended about. I mean, the whole reason Kartuu was willing to deal was that he thought you were worthless. I mean, not worthless, but he thought no one would want you. No one normal anyway."

Rix blew an electronic raspberry, drawing another wince from the Munjan. "You know, none of that came out right. Basically, it's like this. I had a budget of eight hundred credits to buy a medical droid for the hospital. I figured I'd be getting half a surgical unit, you know, something that needed a whole lot of work, but that I could rebuild for decently cheap. Then I found you. And you're in fantastic shape. I mean, you need an oil bath. A bit of cleaning up around the servos, sure. Maybe you could use a little defragmentation, but who couldn't? Frankly, what Kartuu saw as a liability, I saw as an opportunity. So I got you for seven hundred."

Suriyesh braced herself for... she wasn't sure what, exactly. MA7 was still a mystery to her, and A moderately expensive one by her standards, no matter how much of a markdown she'd gotten.

[MA7-E4]

She remained stone-faced at the news and made a note in her files of the price, rather disappointed at how quickly her value had collapsed. This unit, retailed new at a price of 3100 credits. That is for a standard MA7 unit, without this unit's modifications. It is, understandable, given this unit's history and condition that the price would be what it was.

She paused and turned to no longer face Suri, programming working hard, and it almost seemed as if she had simply 'gone quiet' as a droid was meant to when they stopped having anything to say, until she spoke again. This unit apologizes for the costs she has caused to you, and your sponsors, Suriyesh. She began walking towards the ship, Is there any assistance that this unit may provide to prepare for our journey?

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

If a droid could be disappointed, MA7 was - Suriyesh was sure of it. Not that it made sense. Droids didn't need egos; they only got in the way. Even if you were programming a humanoid analog to help comfort patients in need, even if you needed a droid that could be sympathetic, you could model emotions without expressing them. But Matea was something different altogether. For years people had accused Suri of over-personifying her droids. But if anything, she was under-personifying Matea. For all functional purposes, she really was a person.

Which meant the reason she'd looked like a refugee stuck in a shed, locked away in the cold and dark for years without humanoid contact was...

Oh gods. Suri was beginning to think that for once she was woefully underqualified to deal with a droid.

"Matea - no, you don't have to apologize," she stammered. "I mean, it was my decision. I did it because I wanted to. And..."

She winced again, this time not out of sympathy pangs, but because she felt as if someone were driving an ice spike through her right temple. Her natural paw shot up to press against the spot.

"Urgh... sorry, I forgot how long I've been up. I've gotta get into something more comfortable. You mind finishing this in my quarters?"

Suriyesh led the droid, not to the corridor that opened into the crew section of the freighter, but deeper into the cargo hold and around a stack of huge, squarish containers to a small open space holding a cot, a steamer trunk, a mirror, and a few other odds and ends. "Home, sweet home," Suri said, "at least for the next five days. Space was tight."

She swayed unsteadily as another lance of pain wrapped around her skull. "Right. Time to take this off."

Suri reached up to the shoulder of her prosthetic arm, gripped it solidly around the ball-and-socket joint, and twisted. With a beep and a p-chunk, the whole arm popped free, leaving an empty socket behind. Suriyesh gasped, eyes squeezed shut, and slowly pulled the now-defunct limb away. A few deep breaths seemed to stabilize her again.

From the back of the makeshift quarters, Rix warbled mournfully.

[MA7-E4]

MA7 had watched silently as the whole thing had started with sharp headaches, her own systems immediately flagging the reaction and running through symptoms as they went through the cramped ship to the specialists quarters. She observed intently when she'd removed her prosthesis and after a few more moments of pain, all of which she'd chronicled and flagged as medical history, already beginning a file for Suriyesh, she'd started to come down from it, and normalize.

She approached carefully, cautiously to someone who was in pain and took her shoulder gently, leading her to lay down in the cot and resting on the floor beside, so she could have closer access to the newly exposed area, her database expanding as she memorized the details of the limb in case it was necessary to assist in any way at another occasion. Do you require assistance? This unit does not have current access to medication, but is willing and able to provide care, miss. She had returned to her clinical responses, her core programming of caring for a patient overriding the blooming personality that was obviously outside expected parameters for any droid.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

The palliative gesture took Suri by surprise, so much that she didn't even think to resist. She sat on the edge of her cot with her lifeless prosthetic in her lap and rubbed ruefully at the empty shoulder socket left behind.

"Thanks," the mongoose said, "but this is just par for the course, really. The interface was never perfect, and then there were some... well, updates... that introduced some compatibility issues. Basically, I wear my arm for more than eighteen hours at a stretch, and I start getting wicked migraines. The longer I put off dealing with it, the worse it gets."

Suriyesh turned and eased her cybernetic arm into a charging cradle mounted on a crate at the head of her cot, and then she swung her legs up beside her and leaned her head against the cargo containers that formed the walls of her quarters. The vibrations of the ship that rattled up from the deckplates, through the cargo containers, and into her very bones provided a comforting counterpoint to the throbbing that was threatening to overtake her head.

"You ever worked with cybernetics before, Matea? That you can remember, anyhow?"

[MA7-E4]

The droid paused to search her databanks and memory files, oculars ticking back and forth as she scanned the data. Once, shortly after my initial purchase. Though this unit merely assisted in the procedure. She had taken to sitting on the floor of the ship beside Suriyesh, cataloging what she could about her new owner's cybernetic needs, so that she could cross-reference and be prepared for any necessary assistance she would give.

This unit would be happy to accept additional programming relevant to your needs, miss.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"I'm sure you would," Suri replied with a wan smile. "Problem is, that programming only exists in one place. And believe me, you don't want Vox's algorithms knocking around in your head."

The ship's comm chimed overhead, flattening Suriyesh's ears and drawing out a grumbling string of Munjan curses. "We've been cleared to launch," Korin reported from the comms. "You got everything stowed down there?"

With her eyes squeezed shut, Suriyesh slapped the radio on her coveralls and said, "Yeah, yeah, we're all peachy, for Garfife's sake, will you turn the monitors down? We don't all have ears the size of thimbles, all right?"

"Roger that," Korin replied, just as loudly as before. Suriyesh sighed and hunkered down into her cot as the steady hum of the ship's repulsorlifts grew into a throaty growl, and the freighter went swaying up into the sky like a drunken dragonfly.

Even with her eyes closed, Suri could sense the pressure of Matea's oculars on her and the unspoken questions gathering behind them. "Vox is an A-series medical droid (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/A-series_medical_droid)," the mongoose explained. "You probably know they're not exactly legal anymore. I keep him in my shop under a restraining bolt. He's under control, but that doesn't mean he's entirely safe."

[MA7-E4]

If a droid could show concern, MA7 was showing it in that moment. A-series units were, as Suriyesh had said, illegal. More-so they had a history of dangerous procedures. Despite those facts, an A-series medical droid was still a medical droid, her programming would dictate that she was meant to act as an assistant to him, if he were tomake requests of her. Perhaps it would be in both her own, and in others best interests if she were to try and keep a comfortable distance between herself and Vox.

I understand your meaning, miss. Perhaps that would not be an appropriate source of information for myself. However, this unit is pleased to keep such a possibility open for future purposes. I am available for additional programming, should a suitable source be procured.

She steadied herself against the floor as the vessel took flight, engines creating a dull roar throughout the ship, and watched the Munjan carefully a moment longer, almost hesitantly before speaking up.

If I may be so bold, she began - expressing an odd sort of curiosity - You seem to have a very interesting collection of droids. Her face pinched up in surprise, sensitive servos and motors giving her an almost human like look of realization as processes flagged something as she spoke. Myself included.