The Arms Dealer (Part 1)

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Immediately following Helllloooooo, Nurse! (http://www.theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55881-Helllloooooo-Nurse!)

Suriyesh Rajinaathra leaned carefully over the edge of the tub, which was steadily filling from the twin oil spigots at the back, and squinted into the steamy, bubbling mess with a critical eye. Then she turned to the tanks and made some adjustments - a quarter turn to this valve here, a half turn to that one there, a few degrees cooler on this side, a few percentage points richer on the other side, until the mixture met with her own exacting specifications. A few sucking pumps of the skimmer cleaned out the drossy sediments that had fallen to the bottom of the tub, leaving the rising pool as clear as a pint of Kassaram Amber Bock, coppery-gold with an unctuous sheen across the top. The Munjan mongoose bent down, dipped her mechanical hand into the oil, and brought it up for inspection, rubbing her fingers together to gauge the abrasives and lubrication.

"Oh, yeah. That's the stuff."

She wiped her artificial fingers off on a handy rag and set about tidying up a few things around the shop while the tub continued to fill. Other than the chattering oil, all was quiet. All three LBs were at Ramastan's work site. The pit droids were neatly folded on their shelves, blissfully unaware. Even Rix had retired early to his charging station, and Matea wasn't due back for another three hours. And for once, for one Garfife-blessed afternoon, there was nothing on her work queue, no new scrap heaps from Alliance requisitions to resurrect from their component parts, no overworked labor units to put back together, no fritzing logic boards or jammed servos or slipped hydraulics in sight. For the first time in far too long, Suri didn't have a damned thing to do except catch up on some long overdue reading.

She stole into her quarters and fished a dogeared copy of The Taming of the Hunter, whose creased cover proudly displayed a shirtless male mongoose in a kilt cradling an enraptured silk-clad female in an anatomically improbable fashion. Stifling a small squeal of delight, Suri trotted back to the oil tub, which now stood high and steaming.

With a quick glance about her empty workshop, she pulled a curtain shut around the tub and shut off the spigots. Then she shrugged off her bathrobe, leaving herself in nothing but brown fur and golden plasteel, and she lifted herself over the rim of the tub and sank into the oil bath with an ambrosial sigh.

[MA7-E4]

There was an error in her systems, it hid behind a firewall and plied it's tendrils through the medical droids systems. Creating new pathways and subroutines. This had not been a serious matter, it had not required significant adjustment. The sparking in her left hand was now evidence that it would require some measure of control, even if the concept of restraining it, or slowing it brought about growing concern. She was now certain within acceptable margins that what she experienced when the topic was brought up was, in fact, concern.

Which, in itself, was even more concerning. The changes that the secondary systems had begun to enact were going far beyond the programming of her primary systems, they were going far beyond what she was familiar with other droids experiencing. Those changes were only becoming stronger now, speeding up in their regularity and severity. She had signed herself off for the afternoon, a message relayed to Master Laran of the need for repairs. An accident had occurred, and she was unable to tend patients with a malfunctioning hand.

Returning to the workshop she found it strangely silent. Her head tilted to one side and then another, audial receptors scanning for noises. A sound from the oil baths? Was Suriyesh busy? She had not expected any serious work to be on her schedule today, however it was possible something had come up. She walked in that direction, the droid's metallic footfall muffled by the shoes she had taken to wearing.

Curious. There was a curtain drawn around the tub. She stood at a short distance and observed. No immediate sign of the Munjan mechanic.

Miss?

She said softly, a hint of concern mixed with the cold tone of a droid.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

The devilish din of battle and bloodshed at last was silent, and with a quavering, dainty paw, Andhira lifted the tasseled edge of her canvas awning to look out upon the dunes. All around her lay the mangled remains of her erstwhile captors, their midnight-black robes turned blacker with blood that oozed from ragged wounds as numerous as they were gruesome. The carnal gore of the gory carnage stole her breath away - what man, what beast, was capable of such raw and reckless savagery?

But when she saw the broad-chested figure standing high on the crest of the dune with the desert wind flowing through his long and golden headfur, she had her answer. Tall was he, with arching shoulders and supple spine, long and straight in every limb with a fiercely snapping tail. He wore no shirt, and his bare chest and arms were riddled with scars, but not in any way that detracted from the rippling muscles that surged beneath his banded fur as if carved by the fingers of a god. Andhira wondered if she should run, for in her sheltered and socially conservative upbringing she had heard terrible tales of the ways of wild men in the wilderness with wayward and witless women, but then the stranger turned, and all thoughts of running vanished, as well as thoughts of anything other than his sinewy arms, his handsomely chiseled face, and the untamably wild yet secretly soulful depths of his rose-pink eyes whose savage beauty stole her breath away.

He crossed the dune toward her with long and manful strides, and thoughts of running returned as he lifted one of his large, callused, weather-worn, but inviting paws, but instead of seizing or striking her he gently stroked the soft fur of her cheek with tender care that nevertheless allowed her to feel the savage strength barely contained within his powerful frame. When he spoke to her, she felt her breath stolen away by the quiet thunder of his deep and rolling voice...

Suriyesh sank a little deeper into the oil, careful to keep the thin, frail pages of the trade paperback well above the fizzing surface. Her left ear twitched at a sound from beyond the curtain, but she was too far gone into the triumph of literature in her paws to take any notice. The oil sloshed as she delicately, reverently turned the page.

[MA7-E4]

The sound of moving oil registered on her sensors and her impeccably designed face turned down in a frown. There was clearly someone or thing in the oil bath, yet offering no response. A moment of claxon like alarm shot through her processors, the odds were incredibly low that Miss had fallen into the oil and was now trapped, but the possibility still existed. It was statistically improbable, and her main systems reminded her of that fact. Immutable and logical. Her secondary systems however registered concern for her mechanic. She took several quick steps toward the curtain, and hesitated, hand at the fabric.

One more attempt before she would begin a medical log, and prepare to assist with resuscitation and emergency medical conditions.

Miss are you here?

It was louder this time, more urgent.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Matea's voice was enough to startle Suriyesh out of her literary reverie, and she jerked upright with a splash, throwing a look of panic at the delicate silhouette just behind the curtain. "Um... yes!" she said, almost at a squeak. "Don't come in, I'm... I'm... working on something. Hang on!"

The Munjan mongoose stood up, dripping oil in thick, greasy trails from her matted and slimy fur, which didn't spike so much as congeal, slicked flat against her bony frame like a coat of wet paint. The novel was lightly tossed onto a nearby workbench clear of any incidental splatters, and she leaned to grab a large, grease-stained towel hanging from one of the valves at her back.

"Just clearing up a few things, I'll be right there!"

[MA7-E4]

The sudden explosion of sound and movement from behind the curtain did make her wonder, systems cataloging potential situations that would result in such an outburst. Eventually her subroutines settled on a parameter of 'not relevant information' and gave the mongoose her privacy, busying herself by doing a full system check on the damage to her left arm.

The results were not encouraging.

// REPORT //

// Full loss of motor control in digits of left appendage, wrist motion servos non-responsive, presence of power drain to forearm, with limited range of motion. Proximal interphalangeal joints on 3rd and 4th digits burnt out, recommend replacement. Total responsive systems 32/107 - critical failure. //

Suri was not going to be happy with her.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri climbed halfway up the ladder leading out of the vat of oil. She was a great deal smaller than many of the droids she bathed, so she'd only needed to fill it to about thirty percent to give herself enough depth for a good lie-down. Now she was considering how long she could let herself drip dry before she had to face up to Matea. Maybe, maybe it was just a quick question she could answer, then send the droid on her way so Suri could get right back to her bath. If only the gods were so kind.

Reluctantly, the Munjan mongoose wrapped herself in the towel and shimmied back over the rim of the tub, leaving thick, greasy pawprints on the dropcloth below. Somehow she always managed to make three times the mess of any droid in her fleet when it came to oil baths. She squeezed a few more gobs of the stuff out of her tail with a wet, sucking, schlorp. "So what's up, Matea?" she asked. "I thought you were still on-shift for a couple hours."

[MA7-E4]

If a droid were capable of sweating, MA7-E4 would be in this moment.

There was an incident.

She was quiet for a moment, seconds ticking like a heart beat.

This unit has sustained damage and is in need of repairs.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

And just like that, Suri's priorities flipped upside-down. Horrific possibilities started rampaging through the Munjan's fertile imagination like angry gundarks - power surge? Acid spill? Mechanophobic Cizerack? Lightsaber demonstration gone horribly wrong? Without another thought, she cinched up her towel and ducked through the curtain flap in front of Matea.

"What kind of incident? What happened?"

Even before the droid could answer, Suri was already giving her a once-over - oculars bright and tracking cleanly, posture steady and balanced, both legs stable, arms... oh dear.

[MA7-E4]

Matea's optics focused, unfocused and refocused on the Munjan's appearance. The inquiry toward her appearance died in her data buffer, 'not relevant information' indeed.

I was attending to a patient, when I suffered an anomalous power malfunction. It caused an issue with the servo and motor functions on my left arm. I attempted to complete my duties, but continued usage of my limb merely exacerbated the damage. This is the unfortunate result.

She was being vague, but she had erased Hal's information from her systems for a reason. It was not a data file she wanted stored in the long term, it had been a difficult situation for not only herself, but for the Nehantite.

Unfortunately, seeing Suri dripping oil, and wrapped in a towel now brought those memories back to the forefront, another spasm ticking through her left arm as if to cap the point with an exclamation mark.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri stared at the spasming limb with all the intensity of a snake hunter stalking a sand viper. She carefully reached for Matea's delicate hand and brought it directly under one of the overhead shop lights for a closer look. It was bent at an awkward angle from the wrist, and the fingers were curled unnaturally; when Suri tried to straighten them with gentle, steady pressure, the whole hand jerked in her grasp with the sparking sound of tortured servos.

"Hata mo kurrrsh," she swore. "There's structural damage there. Power malfunction, you said? What causes a power malfunction like that?"

[MA7-E4]

Matea's processors tried to suss out a response that was appropriate, a war now raging between primary and secondary systems on how to properly respond. Her primary systems won out, barely.

Power fluctuations from this unit's unique secondary system. Response to external stimuli caused a servo malfunction in the digits, which this unit attempted to override.

She sounded almost embarrassed.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Well, that only raised more questions. Questions that Suriyesh wasn't sure she was in a fit state to ask dressed in nothing but a towel and beginning to drip oil on her workshop floor. Gar, this was not how she'd planned on spending her afternoon. But she realized when she looked up how much her worry was telling on her face, judging from how it was reflected in Matea's. Gods, those facial actuators got her every time, right in the maternal instincts.

"Okay, um... there's an oil bath already drawn in there. Why don't you soak this hand for a while, loosen up the servos a bit. I'm going to go clean up and get some clothes on. I'll be out in ten minutes, okay?"

With that, the Munjan mongoose trotted quickly to the 'fresher in her quarters where she lathered up with twice the usual fur shampoo before zapping it all away in the sonic shower. She still felt a little greasy stepping out of the stall, but at least her fur was no longer plastered to her skin under a dripping layer of slime, and by the time she'd pulled her coveralls on over her T-shirt and shorts, she simply looked as if she'd been a little aggressive with the body lotion. Suri hurried back into the shop, grabbed a rack of diagnostic tools on the way, and slipped back through the curtain again.

"Right, so... what kind of external stimuli are we talking about?"

[MA7-E4]

Several warnings alleviated after submerging her offending arm into the oil bath, mostly temperature related, she was already cataloging the rest to make things easier on Suri's diagnostic tools when she did return.

That return was precipitated with what could be construed as a loaded question. There was no good way to explain the circumstances that had led to the malfunction, and it was not in her programming to lie. However perhaps she could work within the letter of the programming to find a creative solution to the problem.

I am afraid that information is confidential, as it regards to a patient's treatment. I can state that the conditions of the treatment resulted in an action that caused an anomalous response from my systems.

She was never going to accept that, but Matea felt she had to at least try this method.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri stopped in her tracks, and her eyes began to fleck red. "Did some mistreat you?" she asked. Frelling mechanophobes.

[MA7-E4]

Her oculars blinked, then widened. No, nothing of that nature. Quite the opposite, though she was hesitant to say as such.

The situation was unique. The patient became excited, and my secondary system's response was unexpected.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Oh."

The viper coiling in Suri's chest began to unwind, and the red flecks faded from her eyes as she tried to divine just what Matea meant by excited. She had an idea, but wasn't sure what to make of it. Down that road lay madness of a sort even she was reluctant to follow.

"So there was a conflict with your secondary systems," she said, retreating to a more comfortable sort of mystery. "What were your secondary systems trying to do that you had to override?"

[MA7-E4]

The response was atypical. An electrical surge was causing motor fluctuations in my hands, an increase of the heat resonators on my facial actuators, irregular temperature variations throughout my frame and a difficulty in my speech centers.

I registered system-wide levels of subroutine redirection, touching upon my patient concern programming and my patient privacy protocols.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri frowned as she tried to chart a course through the symptoms Matea was listing. Overheating facial actuators? Vocal hang-ups? Motor fluctuations? What sort of processing error caused that range of hardware glitches? But it wasn't an error, it was a subroutine. Something brought on by her secondary systems in response to an excited patient--

If there was any logic at all behind Matea's secondary systems, it was that they made her responses more humanoid. Whether it helped or not. Facial flush. Stammering. A nervous twitch.

"Sounds to me like you got flustered," Suri said, handing Matea a rag to wipe off her oily hand. "Or was it... more than that?"

[MA7-E4]

She graciously accepted the rag and cleaned away any excess oil from the damaged limb before turning to Suri, facial motors turning more thoughtful as she focused her oculars on her mongoose mechanic.

Flustered?

She looked away as if searching, oculars darting back and forth as she scanned lines of code.

Verb, to put into a state of agitated confusion. As a noun, nervous excitement or confusion.

Her attention refocused on Suri, and she tilted her head as if suddenly at a loss.

This unit should not be capable of such a reaction.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"This unit shouldn't be capable of feeling cold, either," Suriyesh replied gently, leaning one hip against a workbench. "Your secondary systems seem to have their own ideas about your capabilities."

Once again they were in uncharted territories, that range where Suri wasn't sure whether she should treat Matea more like a precocious machine or a naive and sheltered person. Maybe it helped that she wasn't sure she even knew the difference.

"You know, if a patient is harassing you, you're well within your rights to complain."

[MA7-E4]

Her oculars brightened in an expression mimicking surprise at the implication and she raised her working arm in protest.

The situation is most certainly not of that nature. Any error occurring was the result of both parties.

She lowered her arm, turning his expressive face to look to the distance for a moment, before tilting her head wistfully.

Will it be necessary to restrain this unit's secondary systems after this incident?

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suriyesh opened her mouth to reply, then read the mournful aspect on Matea's face - and not just in her face, but in the tilt of her head the hunch of her shoulders, the angle of her feet, even the way she held her hands, for Garfife's sake. She didn't think Matea was doing it on purpose, but somehow the droid managed to tug on heartstrings that Suri hadn't even thought she had anymore.

The Munjan mongoose sighed in defeat. "Well... it sort of sounds like trying to restrain them is what got you into this mess," she said. "But first things first. I have to get in there and see if the damage can be repaired, or if anything needs to be replaced. Of course, if something needs replacing, we're going to be in trouble."

She stepped around the workbench and unrolled a bundle of small technical tools - screwdrivers, forceps, shims, microspanners - some of them second-hand, some of them homemade, all of them lovingly cared for and studiously used. "Getting replacement parts for a standard MA7 would be hard enough, but with your custom hand mechanisms... I might as well just rebuild them myself, if it comes to that. I don't suppose you've got your own manuals on file anywhere?"

[MA7-E4]

The droid's demeanor seemed to soften, even relax at the Munjan engineer's proclamation against further restraint, at least in the immediate, of her secondary systems. She was aware of the dangers that it was very clearly presenting in her operation, but there remained a variable that she could not ascertain that assured her subroutines that the removal of the foreign systems was far more problematic than allowing them to remain.

Matea's oculars shifted back and forth as she scanned through many lines of coding, finally stopping to address the mechanic once more.

The memory wipe experienced by this unit has removed all but basic materials for the MA7 line. As this unit's limbs are likely of a custom design, I am unable to provide you with detailed manuals or guides for their construction. I am sorry.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Figured it was a longshot," Suri replied with a melancholic smile. "Oh, it's not your fault, Matea. We'll just do the best we can with what we've got. Come here."

The Munjan mongoose patted the workbench in front of her and uncoiled a worklight on a long, flexible neck. When Matea had come closer, Suri gently took the malfunctioning hand in her paws and placed it under the glare of the light.

"Right, just need to open this up and have a look. This won't hurt a bit..."

She took a small, sturdy crow-hook, found a seam in Matea's wrist panel, and carefully began prying up a piece of the droid's outer skin.

[MA7-E4]

Her systems went alight with sensory responses. The primary system registered the sensation and cataloged it, nothing more. The secondary system sent out wave after wave of command code, subroutine and response. It bypassed the main system entirely.

Matea jerked her arm away, her expressive face turning up in agony, a low whine of static and noise escaping her vocal systems. It had hurt.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

The hook went spinning out of Suriyesh's grasp and landed somewhere in the shadows with a metallic clatter. Suri whipped her own paw back against her chest and stared with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

"Wh... what?"

[MA7-E4]

Matea just stared right back at her.

My. She paused froze up as if unsure how to quantify the statement. That is to say, this unit's systems registered the sensory interaction. There was a response from my other system.

She scanned her oculars back and forth for a comparison that she could draw.

It registered damage. A reaction was provided to remove itself from further damage.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

"Damage? But I didn't..."

Suri's eyes danced down to Matea's cradled limb and back up to her serene, blue oculars. No, she was serene now, but that wasn't what Suri had seen on Matea's face just a moment ago, wasn't what had made the mongoose snap her own paw back as if from an open flame. The droid's face had been wracked with... with...

"Matea," Suriyesh said with a cracking voice, and she swallowed to squeeze some moisture back into her throat. "Did you feel... pain?"

[MA7-E4]

The droid stared back into the face of the Munjan.

This unit registered damage. It's secondary systems responded in the manner you experienced. Her oculars shifted back and forth as she examined the coding, the the routines that had just occurred.

This unit was unprepared for such an interaction. I can disable the sensory connections in my arm to assist.

Matea's oculars remained focused on Suri as the droid seemed to almost dance around answering the question.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

Suri swallowed again and nodded. "Yeah... yeah, that's probably for the best."

Slowly, she reached over the workbench for another tool and realized her paw was shaking - her right paw, of course, not the cybernetic one, because it was a machine, and machines didn't respond to biological stimuli that way. She could whack with a sledgehammer, and she'd feel shooting spikes of sensory overload from the damaged systems that her brain might interpret as pain, but it wasn't the same. She was an engineer, not a doctor. Her patients didn't cry or scream or have to be brave when she opened them up and prodded them and took them apart--

Gods. She needed to get a hold of herself. That and maybe a stiff drink. She was really regretting not getting to finish her bath now. She took a deep breath, refocused, and turned her attention back to the patiently waiting droid.

"All right - all disconnected? Let's see what we've got."

She was much more tentative in her motions now, but she got the panel pulled free of its anchors, exposing a complex nest of servos and sensors and fibromechanical relays. Suri leaned in close and cautiously turned Matea's exposed hand this way and that under the workbench lights.

"Garfife," she said. "This... this is really advanced work. There are pieces in here I've never seen before, and that's saying something. It's more like a prosthetic than a droid component, and high-end one at that. Was Taveesh doing prosthetics?"

[MA7-E4]

Matea's oculars remained focused on Suri's face. Her systems were busy chronicling the experience that she was having, registering the information that was being provided by her engineer. Her secondary system sent further directives along her pathways, and she recognized a sensation she had previously experienced.

//Fear//

This situation was unusual. Highly unusual. It did not fit any parameters she had for reference. Her own interactions had been suspect, the findings of the Munjan engineer made it even more so. Her oculars slowly shifted away, looking at her own limb, a ripple of that same overloading electricity that had caused the damage to her systems caused her other hand to tremble. She wished to make it cease, to bring it to a rested position, still and mechanical. She could not, and there was potential damage, much like the now exposed arm had suffered, in any attempts to force it to.

This unit is She started, then stopped, oculars shifting quickly away from her exposed wiring and systems, almost nervous to be watching it. I am unaware of any such engineering being undertaken by Taveesh Medical. There is a possibility that my memory of their catalogue is incomplete, or was damaged in the memory wipe I experienced.

[Suriyesh Rajinaathra]

That damned memory wipe again. Suri very nearly said it out loud, with all the disgust it deserved, but only just stopped herself, because Matea would probably apologize for it, as if it was her fault some bastard had seen fit to rob her of all her thoughts, experiences, and relationships. Bloody barbaric treatment of a droid.

"Don't worry about it," she said, though the pinch between her eyebrows plainly said she was worried. "I mean, it makes sense. You want to make the best possible droid for comforting humanoids, you take the point of contact, the hands, and you make them as humanoid as possible. That's prosthetics. It's not just utility, it's the feeling, the range of motion, the personality... Gar, if you were any more lifelike you'd be an HRD."

The mongoose leaned in closer and carefully pulled aside a bundle of delicate cables so she could peer down into the structure of the hand itself, where the wonders only deepened. Thin bands of bundled nanofibers crisscrossed the interior like tendons and ligaments, translating the motion of a relatively few actuators into remarkably lifelike movements. Variable gelpacks lined the palm and fingers of Matea's hand - they could be softened to mimic a warm handshake or a gentle touch, or stiffen to plasteel hardness when she needed to use her hands as tools. And the sensors - thousands upon thousands of them, branching like nerve clusters, improbably redundant. Even a medical droid didn't need that many datapoints for touch.

"Gar. I can see the damage... Looks like one, two servos burned out, another two badly out of alignment... there's scoring on these control belts, too, don't know if that can be cleaned off or if they need to be replaced. A few wires pinching in the joints, they need to be tightened down again, or the shielding will wear away every time you flex your fingers..." She leaned in and took a deep sniff, then wrinkled her large nose at something acrid. "And there's lubricant leaking out of something down there. And those are just the problems I can see. If I don't have a manual, the only thing I can do is take apart your other hand and use it for a model, figure out which parts I can make, which I can bodge, and which I just can't replace, but I couldn't even tell you how long you'd be offline."

Suriyesh's heart skipped a beat when she met Matea's shining blue oculars. This felt less like troubleshooting a machine and more like diagnosing a patient. Which made the next bit even harder to say.

"I think..." She licked her lips and swallowed, suddenly finding herself desert-dry. "I think I'm gonna need to get a second opinion. If... if that's all right with you."

Her eyes darted into the dark corner of the shop, the one walled off by shipping crates and draped in antistatic surgical dropcloth.

[MA7-E4]

Matea's icy blue oculars registered what she was seeing as the mechanic peeled away cables, wiring, coverings to repair the unit's damaged arm. Overlays of medical data, nervous systems, muscular systems, circulatory systems presented itself. A string of data from the secondary systems, still tinged with that same sensory data she could only recognize at this point as fear.

Her own medical systems had registered the information she was seeing and compared it to the only thing it could find similar. Biological medical data. The secondary systems quickened its output, increasing the priority level of the information it presented. Heightening it's import in her file systems and data reception.

//File> Priority> Standard

!!ERROR!!

Access Not Granted. Read Only. //

She couldn't use her systems to force it into normalcy. She had failed to recognize the implication of Suriyesh's dialogue with her, when the query for a second opinion was presented. It was simply good medical sense to do so, was it common in the craft of a mechanic as well? Her optics flitted back to the sensors in her arms, another pop-up display of nervous systems presenting themselves to her in response. Was this even a mechanical issue?

If you believe another set of eyes would be of benefit, Miss, then this unit is happy to agree.