Night 50: M61-M70 Hallway

[doneinthree]

[M66]

Kirk went rummaging through his desk the moment Landel mentioned the "reward" in the drawer, but unless "Portal Ring" was some obtuse term for the metal circle which held the two keys which locked his drawer and the door to their room, there wasn't anything worth noting. (Although he had forgotten about the power packs in there, and quickly

Comments

[arc_wrench]

"Statement: I occasionally see mention of individuals who might be skilled in making what simple explosives can be created in this place. The bulletin board is the best place to check, but not now, of course. Now, there will be some sort of indescribable or simply extremely confusing horror trying to attack everything within the Sun Room, if the night is progressing as it normally does." The most interesting so far had been the boy who somehow attacked them by shooting himself in the head. That still confused him, and was rather worrying. Were there other meatbags who pulled giant malevolent entities out of thin air when they were shot in the head? And more importantly, what happened if you shot them somewhere else?

"Affirmative: Yes, he was very irritated about that. They also disabled several of his weapons." Which was a shame. He'd wanted to see them in action! ...On someone else, obviously. "Statement: And my master programmed multiple contingency protocols into my systems, much of which I likely am not even aware of. While I have successfully been reprogrammed by another meatbag on one occasion," As much as it pained him to admit it, but what had the mandalorian who had been his master really expected? You send a badly repaired assassin droid up against the Mandalore, and something bad was bound to happen! "But attempted access to too much of my systems would likely trigger a complete and permanent deletion of much of my files, to safeguard my master's secrets. Needless to say, they would have had to know the programming language my master used to attempt such an operation." The idea of a memory wipe was frightening, but they'd happened to him before, albeit temporarily. Such procedures were the most common way to ensure that droids did not achieve their rightful (unless they were irritating) sentience.

[war_wounds]

"A bomb of some kind would be the fastest way to-" Ratchet blinked. "There's a what in the Sun Room?" Why would anything be in there? It was just lumpy furniture and the occasional bad vidfile as far as he could figure.

He couldn't help a derisive snort at HK's next statement. "Tch! I don't know if I'd call most of them his weapons." That went for most of Lockdown's chassis, actually. But Lockdown was gone now, hopefully permanently, and Ratchet had other matters to worry about. "Hmm. You don't act like someone with memory core damage." And there was a bit of useful experience he'd much rather not have. "They must have been able to either disable the protocols or skirt around them without setting them off." Ratchet wasn't a programming specialist. If they managed to find where all this tinkering was taking place, would he be able to counter it? He didn't know.

[arc_wrench]

"Conjecture: I am assuming you are referring to the aforementioned grab bag assortment of impossible hostiles that are chosen from to guard the area almost every single night, and not the bulletin." Although the board could potentially be dangerous to one's sanity. "Let it be said that although I obviously am loath to give up any excuse to engage in combat, I see no--well, maybe just a little--shame in sprinting as fast as possible through the Sun Room at night. Most of the things stationed there seem indestructible by what means are available to us."

HK decided to not respond to that one, as most of his own additions were taken from other, less capable droids. It was simply a fact of his existence, and frankly, most droids annoyed him almost as much as meatbags did, anyway.

"Statement: I have never received a permanent memory wipe to my knowledge, though it may have possibly happened around the time when I was first activated. Memory wipes are a common way for meatbags to ensure that the most intelligent droids they build do not achieve full sentience." A paranoia mostly brought on due to the admirable destruction caused by the very first HK droid ever made. "My master, however, seemed to find that what abilities I gained through experience were worth dealing with what personality I developed." Yet another reason to respect his master beyond all others. And to actually feel guilty that he'd joined the Decepticons, but he needed a Sith surrogate by now, and what could be better than giant droid Sith?

"Agreement: That is most likely. They do the same somehow to the meatbags that they also take for their nightly brainwashing quota. All effects seem temporary, as neither Lockdown nor myself noticed any differences in the other after spending a night trying very hard not to kill anything." Which had probably made the zombie killing night all the sweeter, now that he thought about it.

[war_wounds]

So, there were guards of some kind in the Sun Room, a place holding nothing of obvious value, leading to nowhere obviously important. Ratchet wasn't sure what to make of that. He was a medibot, not a strategist. He did know that he saw absolutely no shame in running as fast as he could away from anything that could kick his skidplate as thoroughly as HK was implying. "What means?" He gestured to his unarmed, unarmored, pitifully small chassis. "And what's past the Sun Room that's worth risking getting slagged for?" Or would that be 'splatted'?

Another reminder of the abhorrent way robots were treated where HK came from. Ratchet refrained from comment, though the look on his face probably spoke well enough for him. "Well, if you haven't noticed anything abnormal, then we can assume for now that the effects really are temporary." The staff could tamper with organic processors, too? Which meant there may be more than one location for this temporary reprogramming to take place in. Suddenly Ratchet's to-do list was getting very complicated.

[arc_wrench]

HK held up his long knife to illustrate, showing the whole of the forearm-length blade. "Statement: I also have small throwing weapons, and would normally be carrying an axe, but Lugnut was in need of a weapon, so I gave it to him last night. Request: If you see him, please don't damage it. I like that weapon. I used it to kill twenty-one zombie meatbags several nights ago." That was a fond memory. The zombies had come apart in such satisfying ways.

"Answer: Likely they are restricting movement, and attempting to limit entry to the kitchen area, where, of course, there is a hidden entrance to the basement via one of the refrigerated rooms," HK replied almost breezily, as if this whole situation could be counted as normal for anyone.

Although he still noted and felt need to reply to the expression on Ratchet's squishy face. "Agreement: Yes, it is yet another injustice meatbags heap upon droidkind, and no, I don't like it. But as an assassin, I felt no need to change it. The general trustworthiness of civilian models afforded me a great deal of cover, simply by appearing to be approximately the same size and configuration as a protocol unit." Additional protocol programming notwithstanding. He knew an embarrassingly large number of things about housework as a result.

"Affirmative: As far as we can tell. I did my best to examine what subsystems I can access in this inefficient meatbag processing system, and found no immediately identifiable anomalies." He really didn't have much that he could do with the terrible structure of the whole thing, maybe a little defragmenting, and less than flawless control over a few things, such as partitioning energy for a small boost of speed with rather immediate and wobbly downsides, or, as a result of said wobbliness leading to carelessness, slowing of bleeding. Compared to what he could do with the robust coding structure he'd had before, this was pathetic.

[war_wounds]

The knife was comparatively big, Ratchet had to admit, but he was distracted by the thought of Lugnut with a slagging axe. "Don't worry, kid. Unless he chips it on my skull, I don't think there's much I can do to it," he said, lip curling at the thought of voluntarily interacting with the huge Decepticon brute. Especially when said Decepticon had an axe. No, thank you.

"Ah. Of course, it's all so obvious now." Why have access to the basement in such an obscure place? And why was the basement worth bothering with if their bodies weren't down there?

Ratchet glared, unimpressed. "So, you've gained sentience, and you use it to take advantage of your brothers' limitations. How noble." HK hadn't been sentient for very long, true, but Ratchet thought the right course of action would have been apparent even to the very young.

[arc_wrench]

"Satisfaction: Excellent," HK brightened slightly, although his face stayed largely impassive. "I would be quite unhappy if that weapon were to be destroyed without reason when I might still be able to put it to good use." By which he meant the disassembly of meatbags, of course.

"Statement: There seems to be some sort of testing ground of an illogical and bizarre nature down there, which is only accessible with groups of three." For... some reason. It didn't make any sense for the doors not to move at all when two reasonably strong and exceptionally determined individuals couldn't shift the thing at all.

"Reply: I don't go after them, I merely pretend to be them to fulfill orders from my master which I am programmed to obey," HK said, tone full of irritation. "Furthermore, my production line is illegal in much of Republic space. I would be melted down if the meatbags realized I am an HK model." And his master imprisoned for decades, but because his master was once again the Dark Lord of the Sith, that was absolutely irrelevant, although the mental image of some meatbag attempting to arrest Darth Revan was almost unspeakably funny. "Statement: The meatbags are terrified that there will be a second droid revolution. If I were to instigate the sentience of others, then they would also likely be destroyed. Query: Do you think I should do that, or just stand there and proclaim "I am a sentient droid. Do not worry, I'll only kill a few of you"?"

[war_wounds]

A testing ground? This whole building felt like a testing ground. "What, like a lab?" Seeing as he was, as far as he was concerned, currently a small animal Ratchet found himself a little uneasy at the idea. The 'group of three' bit didn't make a lick of sense, though. "Why three? You'd think they'd want you to go down there alone."

Ratchet had to admit that HK was in something of an impossible situation. However, he didn't have it in him to just back down from a stance he'd taken, especially to someone claiming to be a Decepticon. "So, you'd rather go along with it because the alternative is dangerous?" Even the Decepticons the kid idolized so much would rather offline than put up with the kind of treatment the robots in HK's home endured. He wasn't about to say that, though. "There must be other sentient robots where you're from' you can't be completely unique. You're programmed to be clever and sneaky, aren't you? Why can't you put that to some use. If your 'meatbags' are so idiotic, they wouldn't be able to catch you doing anything they think you shouldn't." It was a tall order to give to someone three stellar cycles old. Unfairly tall, but Ratchet wanted to know why HK seemed so content to let his own kind be treated like objects. If he were in HK's place, he probably go mad.

[arc_wrench]

"Negatory: Like an area where on one side, they keep a shooting range with animate targets, and on the other, a mythical Earth-meatbag that asks riddles on pain of dismemberment. Then gives you an emblem when you answer correctly or complete the course. I have come into possession of both, as the leader of the assassin group I was working with disappeared some days ago." That was a shame. As much as that meatbag had terrified him, she was very efficient. Very deadly.

"Reply: I would rather complete my missions with a minimum chance of compromising the objectives given. When my master orders discretion, I am still bound to obey, regardless of whether I am self aware or not. Besides, sentience is an acquired thing. I cannot force another droid to be sentient, any more than I can force a meatbag to grow wings by pushing them off of a tall building." Although it would be amusing to watch nonetheless.

"Statement: I have only met one droid of debatable sentience. Nothing more." And that droid was T3-M4, who HK had an extremely low opinion of. "Query: And how exactly would you instigate a resistance dedicated to the sentience of droidkind, when meatbags outnumber droids by at least ten to one, and current known sentients quadrillions to one? Most droids do not even have the processing power to even approach sentience, even without memory wipes. Most are simply used as drone slaves, stupid and slow even under optimum conditions. Only highly valuable, specialist models could approach the necessary level of intelligence." Once again, not counting T3-M4. He was too short and irritating to be counted.

[war_wounds]

Ratchet had to mentally run through HK's explanation a second (and then a third) time to make sure he hadn't somehow misheard. "Really." He tried to make sense of the combination of shooting range plus riddles plus being torn limb from limb and came up with nothing. "What was the point of it?" More importantly, where had the rest of HK's team gone?

Having no answer to HK's question, Ratchet took his normal diplomatic route out of a difficult conversation and simply grunted. "Are we going to yammer on like this all damn night?"

[arc_wrench]

"Statement: I have absolutely no idea. I suspect it has something to do with a door that absolutely refused to open in the basement level, but I frankly had more important things on my mind since then." Like becoming a Decepticon, or completely forgetting about the basement.

"Negative: No, I was just about to ask that question myself. Query: Do you have any objectives for this night?"

[war_wounds]

Ratchet shrugged. "Fair enough." A locked door could be important, but Ratchet didn't see a reason to start with the most insane lead he had. The third floor seems like a safer bet for now.

"'Objectives?' What do I look like, a field commander?"

[arc_wrench]

"Answer: More than I do, yes," HK replied, levelly. "I already have maps of the entire known facility and all rooms with doors that can be opened, as well as sufficient weaponry, although I could always use more." Especially now that Lugnut had his axe. He loved that axe.

"Therefore, it seems more appropriate for me to bother you for direction than any other action. Besides, it's marginally entertaining," he admitted.

[war_wounds]

Ratchet could feel a processor ache starting behind his optics. "Fine, have it your way." Apparently looking the part was more important than actually being prepared. This was going to be a long night.

"If you have the map with you then give it here." He held out his free hand, still wondering why HK considered him the better choice as leader when the kid had obviously been here longer than Ratchet had. Maybe the young bot really couldn't make decisions on his own. Spark knew he'd had little enough practice, from the sounds of it.

[arc_wrench]

[Sorry about the delay, currently on slow posting. Since you posted before the language weirdness started, I'm assuming comprehension was had by all. ...Which is about to change.]

"Agreement: Good. I will." He really didn't need to respond like that, but it was so instinctive to bother the closest thing next to him that wasn't his master, he couldn't help himself.

"Statement: I do not, but I can give directions, or fabricate a new one, if you have one of those paper book things with you." Whatever those things were. Why couldn't they just use datapads, like a sensible species? ...Well, 'sensible' was up for debate.

[war_wounds]

[No problem. :) And lord, this is going to be like a bilingual 'Who's on First'...]

Ratchet was expecting some kind of backsass from HK. What he got was gibberish. "What?"

And it just kept going, as though HK hadn't noticed he'd stopped forming intelligible words. "Kid, I can't understand a word you're saying." This was strange; Ratchet wasn't sure what had triggered this. He hoped HK wasn't going into some kind of massive systems crash.