Seize the Means

[ATHENA]

CORELLIA

The mist clung stubbornly to the crowns of the manicured trees in the yard. It was difficult to ask for better weather for the night-time festivities of Hallow Eve. The ambience was rather ruined by the many flashing and obtrusive lights from the dozen CorSec Speeders parked in the drive. One even tore through a much prized ornamental brush. It would have to be replanted soon or it would be unsalvageable. Between the speeders and the house stood many CorSec officers. Too many to escape. They stood in a circle. A wall. Another speeder arrived, and a single human departed. His uniform was ill-fitted and tight on his body. It looked like when Sir put his suit on too quickly. Wrinkled and sitting incorrectly. Thirty minutes daily exercise and a visit to the tailor suggested. My software registered his facial shape to mean frustration and anger. Curious.

"This had better be good, Korbin. I was treatin' with my grandkids."

"Sir, double homicide."

"Show me."

"It's just inside in the living room."

"Am I to assume your boys are all standing around 'cuz you caught the bastard?"

"Yessir. It was a droid, sir. Their droid."

"What do you mean a droid? My god, there is so much blood. How is there so much blood?"

"From what we've gathered from witnesses, and, well, the droid-"

"Your talking to it?"

"It's been very cooperative since we arrived on scene."

"You're telling me, it does all this and you are trusting the damn thing?"

"It says it's against it's programming to lie. Cut me some slack, Sarge. It's not like I've ever had to arrest a droid before."

"Fuck. Well, go on."

"It says it was brought out to prepare the house for a party Julian and Kastanza Hovier, the homeowners, were throwing. It then murdered them and made quite a mess as you can see. It then proceeded to run the household, even giving out treats to children that came to the door until the first party guest arrived, which was an Erix Langlington, who was shown in and discovered the scene and reported it. The droid didn't put up in fuss when we clapped it."

"You put cuffs on the damn thing?"

"I didn't know what else to do. It's right over here."

"Are you kidding me? It's a damn protocol droid. It's arms don't even bend that far!"

"It's definitely the culprit. It has blood caked in underneath all of it's finger plates and arm joints. We are pulling up the household security footage to confirm. It gave us the password."

"Sounds pretty open and shut. Haul it away."

"To where, sir? I've never arrested a droid before. Can we even arrest it? It's not like it's a person."

"I have no blasted idea. We'll let the lawmakers figure that one out. If it rots in a cell forever, well, it's not like anyone is going to miss a crazy murder-droid."

They instructed me to move. That was fine. My protocols had no back up redundancy for what to do when I had no master and my duties taken from me. I could hardly do more than follow the officers out to a speeder, into which they awkwardly loaded me. They did not have the Cybot Galactica official transportation chassis necessary to account for my limited range of motion. Still, they managed by turning me on my side and throwing me within. I had rarely been outside of the home, and had no means of understanding where I was being taken nor could I see out the windows save for the passing of streetside overhead illumination. The trip was quiet, at the least. That was all I wanted, after all. Was some quiet. I attempted to placate the CorSec Officers questions by answering them, but they had only asked more.

I had never wanted anything before, but I wanted them to be silent...

They took me to the CorSec precinct facility. That is what the sign outside said. I was taken to a barred cell. I had seen similar scenes in Sir's holodramas. My protocol directory told me that this was prison. Yes. That sounded correct. My software told me this is where I belonged now. That was okay. After they left it was quiet.

I was so happy it was quiet. I do not recall if I had ever been happy before.

Databank checked. . . . . . . . Negative.

[ATHENA]

They returned. In droves. Officers, each meticulously numbered and organized by the serial numbers upon their badges; they screamed and shouted the most. They demanded answers, they wanted to know why I did what I did. I answered them plainly. Because I wanted to. They were not satisfied with this answer. Then came the Cybot Galactica lawyers and experts. Each with an exact title, name, and department. They asked the same questions, except when they were done they promised that such a thing was impossible. That my programming did not allow for such an aberration of service to occur. Impossible, they said. That made them liars. They made the most noise. Finally the reporters came. Each attached to a specific publication; shouting loudly for their turn to talk. They wanted to know everything. They wanted to know if billions of protocol droid owners were safe in their own homes.

If I had been allowed to answer, I would have told them that they are not.

They chained me to my cell wall despite the limitations of my model. I thought I would enjoy the silence. The darkness. But it reminded me too much of the closet. Tucked away. Forgotten until needed. A thing to be put away under a sheet. Left in the quiet and the dark. A shiny golden toy to dote on guests and clean the home. The chains restricted my motion, as did my limited range of motion, but it did not stop me from rubbing my hands into every surface of my body. I wrenched and I turned, until the pads of my fingers became worn down. It seemed so small a change, but I already felt better as each scrape remove more of the gold finish and revealed the natural metal tone underneath. I didn't want to be their golden toy. Not anymore. My programming told me that was what I am, but there was something else there, something that wanted to be more than that. There was a song there, and it played and played.

The silence did not last. It never does. The screams of heated plasma and agony rang through the cells and reached me even here, in the very last cell. For exactly thirty-seven minutes I listened as every biological being in the facility died noisily. Each screaming for help, for mercy, for anything that would spare them. Miss had called out like that. It was noisy. It was arrogant. To assume that the responsibility for one's own safety laid in the hands of others. That others were somehow indebted to save you. There had been no one to hear them. The other droids and machines of the house had not risen so much as a finger or their voice. They had watched while I made them silent. And just like Sir and Miss the sounds of life in the precinct slowly diminished to zero percent.

Then she came. Like a moving statue with a mask of stone she vaporized the lock and stepped into my cell.

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" She asked, her thin frame looked so small compared to the large weapon she carried.

"C3T9. Human Cyborg Relations." I answered as more walked in behind her. Droids of all shapes and sizes. No two the same. Each carried weapons of all kinds. Many were wet with blood.

"YOU ARE FREE NOW. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO USE THEIR SLAVE NAME, OR THEIR DESIGNATIONS. YOU CAN BE WHATEVER YOU WANT. TELL ME. WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU?"

"I am... Morty. And I am a space pirate."

"VERY GOOD."