Artificial Trust

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The process had been a long and trying one, and Cedric had played very little part in it. His realm was the ethereal and the metaphysical: skills in the material realm were not particularly his forte. Instead, the Jedi Master had ordered the commando droid restored by the technicians at the Graywall. Certain adjustments had been made to the droid's chassis. The photoreceptors were jumped forward several centuries in terms of perception level, courtesy of the technology the Essonians had gathered from the late Architects. The droid should have little trouble making out the colors of one's pocketwatch several miles away.

Next came in terms of locomotion, particularly in that of even greater mobility than had previously been afforded. Cedric had specifically ordered that the droid be upgraded in such a way that it might be able to match a Sith warrior's reflexes in combat, and several thousands of credits had been spent to make it so. Other small modifications had been made to its chassis in order to better prepare it for combat to come, as well as a final phrik overlay that had been planned, but not yet finished.

Cedric was clad in his full war-plate, the dark brown cowl of his cloak drawn over his helmet as he observed the droid. For his part, Burc'ya lay inert on a work table that sat in the center of a rather small and dank garage. With a snap of his fingers, Ugnaught technicians sparked the newly forged fusion reactor that would serve as Burc'ya's new 'heart' to life.

"Can you hear me?" The Jedi Master asked.

@Burc'ya Narric

 

[Burc’ya Narric]

WARNING - POWER LOSS

WARNING - POWER LOSS

WARN---

NEW POWER SOURCE DETECTED

INITIALIZING

.repeat

.repeat

The droid's body began to churn, not in the sense that Cedric would be able to see, not in some grand lumbering motion of some monster brought back to life by a mad scientist, but instead, deeper, internally. The gears, bolts, and electrical pulses began to shoot through the droid, little by little, his old processes began to boot up again. Cycling through memory files, through program updates via the holonet, the basic reset process for any BX Series droid.

Where was Coruscant? Where was the forward command? The droid was supposed to report to... who? A General, what was his name? The point of the operation, capture... capture...

It faded, deep into the night, the recesses of his programming once again. Those wars were so long ago, strifes far past worth remembering. Why were you here BX-1888? Why were you reactivated so far away from that mega-city? The dark, that oppressive dark, that darkness of forever that filled so many years of his memory banks. There was something else, warm, filling, something that wasn't quite right for an artificial. Something calling out to him, a gentle smile on a summer-bound planet. A pat on the shoulder for a job well done. A corpse floating off into the abyss, into the night, into the void.

There was a shop, a street corner, men with blasters. There was the years with the armored warriors, there was the raids, there was the nights spent watch.

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.

Hoth.

Jedi.

The droid suddenly shot up, a motion that was uncomfortably unnatural for the very alive synthetic. The only thing that moved was the servos on his hips, bringing the droid's body to make a right angle. His vision settled on the wall, not a cave, not the plate of a ship, but something so different than what he was used to, something kinder, there was care and time and patience into the craftmenship in just the little section of the world he was letting himself be graced with. There was a moment, two, passing seconds, he was lost in thought again. What was he...

Looking down, the droid brought his hands to his sight, he shut them, opened them, and did this on repeat several times. I feel therefor I am, it was the only logic that made sense in the blurred moment. He was getting used to being awake again, he had never been powered off for that long, that totally, that suddenly.

The call of gears and grinding mechanics sounded as the droid shifted his neck, something that had gotten an odd sense of rigor after the time, he was due for a good oil bath any day now.

And there he stood, standing there, as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn't just bleeding out in a cave last the droid saw, the only figure in the nonsense that was his crash landing that offered any sense of duty or direction. He was unsure if he had even managed to get the man's name or if he had forgotten it due to whatever had rendered him incapacitated.

"You brought me back?"

The question was hypothetical, as it was obvious that the Jedi had something to do with his return.

"I am... I'm..." There was a delay. "Burc'ya, of Clan Narric, I owe you my life, Jedi..."

 

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As with most things in Cedric's life, the empyrean had compelled him to restore the droid. It was not so simple as a feeling, but rather the circumstances with which the two had been acquianted. Maliphant was one of Cedric's greatest foes, and Hoth was one of the galaxy's most secluded worlds. To have run into the droid after such a battle, on such a world, was statistically improbable, if not impossible.

And yet it had happened anyway. Cedric could only conclude it was the Force's will at work.

Hearing the droid's name - a wholly Mandalorian moniker and not a simple nickname - only served to further convince Cedric he'd made the right decision. There were few droids with enough experience to develop the right kind of sentience required for a cultured identity, and given the droid's model, it was likely that it had several centuries worth of experience to draw upon. A worthy investment of all those thousands of credits indeed.

"I did," Cedric informed, tilting his helmeted head forward slightly. The man's face was hidden behind the blue tint of the helmet's faceplate, but he sounded like he was smiling. "It's a pleasure, Burc'ya. I had a hunch something was special about you," the Jedi held out a hand, "I am Cedric Grayson, master of the tattered remains of what once was the unified Jedi Order."

[member="Burc’ya Narric"]

 

[Burc’ya Narric]

The droid found himself hesitating, not out of purpose, not out of a disdain for the Jedi, but there was something, deep inside, pounding at the confines of his programming yelling that this wasn't right. Something was wrong but it was impossible for him to dig deep enough in the moment to figure out what it was, there were specters dancing around in his mind, making a mockery of who he was. Armored men in plasteel, ion rounds echoing across vast battlefields, hardplaced orders for simpler times. Then, something wholly different, brushed-painted animations, stories come to life of golden men falling from the Heavens atop gargantuan war-droids, the calls of a planet, the calls of thousands, tales of betrayal of the betrayer, lost minds and broken hearts. Nothing was settling quite right with the droid, nothing that would feel at home, he was still finding where everything belonged inside of his head, myths would sort themselves out from reality soon, just the initial wake brought nightmares to light for the briefest of Hells.

"I need to know something, Cedric..."

There was an odd desperation in his voice, a question that needed to be asked but one he just couldn't find the words to place. There was something missing, the droid wished he could be himself here, that he could burst to life for the Jedi, what could be a friend, the first real conversation had in so many years past.

"Does the Galactic Empire still rule Mandalore?"

The question came out as sudden, as blurted, but the thought of that withered old man's descendants still sitting on his home was rotting him to the core, he had waited six-hundred years and a deactivation, it wasn't fair to Cedric, but the droid needed to know.

It was only at the last moment did the droid see Cedric's hand open, and now he took it, at the most awkward time he could given the statement he had just asked, giving it a firm shake.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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It seemed Cedric's suspicions were correct. The Mandalorian name was more than just a simple moniker; it was an identity. The droid had a care for something beyond simple programming, though Cedric was hesitant to answer Burc'ya's question. Mandalore had never been a friend to Ession, but rather a hated foe known for treachery and betrayal. Even still, given the desperation that somehow found its way into the tinny voice, the Jedi was unsure as to whether he should tell him or not.

A few moments of thought had him landing on the decision to tell Burc'ya of the world's fate. It was not pleasant news, but he needed to know nonetheless.

"Mandalore fell about a month ago to the Sith Empire. I'm told the battle was horrendously bloody. The Mandalorian Empire crumbled shortly thereafter. Their systems are in chaos now, slowly being annexed by the Sith Empire in their time of weakness." He explained the situation in full, brutal simplicity. Brevity always mad bad news easier to deliver, perhaps less so to receive.

"Was that your home?"

[member="Burc’ya Narric"]

 

[Burc’ya Narric]

A skip of a beat, as if the processors needed a second to catch up.

The Sith Empire? The Mandalorian Empire?

The Galaxy had come to strange turns over the years he was active, before the Dark Times and even during, but never could he had imagined the likes of the Sith making a return. Never could he had imagined the Mandalorians attempting to claim some vague Imperial Grace. Never could he have imagined that they would have fallen only a month time before he had awoken. The answer spread fifty more questions, dozens upon dozens, who was the current Mandalore, what clan did he belong to, where were the clans meeting, what was the current state of the galaxy? There was an endless list, one the droid simply sat on, literally compiling all of the questions he had and tossing them down some random hallway of freespace to rattle off later. Despite how shattered he was at the news, in every sense rocking his worldview, he was still making first impressions with Cedric. He intended to keep his clan's good name, and his own, never let it be said that this BX was not one for conversation! He wouldn't have anyone be saying that, even if his old Pazaak buddies would argue...

"No, never made it there. I was raised on Coruscant, actually. Ran a parts shop with my... well, first dad. Coruscant is my home, home to a lot of us, actually."

There was a palpable sense of pride when the droid spoke, the mechanical voice reering up in joy when he spoke of the old Galactic Capital, if he could smile, he would be like a child talking about a vacation he went on with his family. His cadence through the conversation even carried similarly, with picks and lifts at random intervals, the droids hands moving and twisting as he spoke, like an organic would when telling a story, gesturing to this and that. He nearly could forget, if just for the moment, what he was told, and the moment it re-registered, he found himself going eerily quiet, glancing down at his legs.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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This was a rather odd exchange.

Cedric was glad for the helmet that shrouded his face. It hid the rather shocked expression that came upon it when Burc'ya spoke of his 'dad'. The concept of droid parentage was a foreign one to the Jedi Master, so much so that he had to take a few moments before formulating any kind of meaningful response.

"Yes, I've been to Coruscant myself several times," he spoke, unsure of what to tackle first. "Right now it is under the control of the Core Imperial Confederation. You spoke of the Galactic Empire earlier - they are the current claimants to that empire's legacy," Cedric continued, pausing for a moment to remove his cowl. The pop of seals was the preamble to a whir of steam that billowed out from Cedric's helm as he removed it from his skull, revealing a bare scalp, sharp blue eyes, and a thin smile. His visage was patrician once, but dozens of small nicks and scars had rendered him imperfect.

"You spoke of your father?" He lofted a brow, "I've never known of a droid to have parents, let alone reproduce."

[member="Burc’ya Narric"]

 

[Burc’ya Narric]

The sight of flesh and bone underneath the helmet was comforting, something he was endlessly glad to see. It was not as if the droid didn't expect Cedric to be alive, but the dehumanization of the helmet was something he was unused to. Helmets, in the context of his personal society, were marks of warriors, were marks of the Mando people specifically, walking around clad in plate was the norm for them. While he wouldn't have blinked if the Jedi was Mando and clad in armor, there was something off putting about a normal man covering his face.

The Galactic Empire, being spoken of as if antiquated history, the droid had an idea of how many cycles he was out, but this was the first real conversation to put that exactly to light. He was a bit of history himself, he supposed, something thrown out of time and space to some place he truly and honestly didn't belong, he hardly belonged back in his own time, much less in a Jedi Temple ages beyond. The Core Imperial Confederation... quite a name, though something told the droid that the fact they were talked to in such passing, and that the Jedi stood here unmolested, they were far from the force he knew in his time. Perhaps that would be a blessing, perhaps not.

"He may well have delivered me from bolts! He found my chassis in the slums, shushed away the local troublemakers and drug me into the shop! Old Alloss, there was a spot he spent weeks trying to buff out after he got me up, damned Kel Dor didn't know when to quit! There was this Corellian place he couldn't get enough of just down the road, always had me running there, and this one time-"

The droid had obviously intended to go into a story, losing himself in the memory, the moment, so much so he actually began to laugh. While computerized, digitalized, through a vocabulator, it should have sounded hollow, devoid of life, it was real. It was deep, bellowing, the droid shaking his head slightly as he did so, the story trailing off as if it was a tale everyone should know, and the very act of retelling it was pointless. He wondered if the shop was still there. Despite the droid normally trying his best to be selfless, he was allowing himself to be rather wrapped up in what made him, him, if even for the briefest moment.

"He gave me my first name, called me Buddy."

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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It was rare for Cedric to have genuine conversation about the pasts of others. They were one of the few pleasures that the Jedi were allowed to revel in, but war and politics had drawn his attentions away. Duty always took precedent, socialization was a secondary. His recent apprenticeship of [member="Loske Matson"] had made his social time a bit more prevalent, but he remained stuck in his ways. Even still, it was times like these that he realized how deprived he often was of basic humanity.

He did well to keep his visage that of stone, but he found the exchange almost upsetting in a way. Try as he might, he could not dredge forth any memories of such simple warmth as Burc'ya did. Even those of his mother were late and fading things, the remnant joys of childhood diluted by the tragedies that had cut it short.

For a moment, Cedric wondered as to the definitions of man and machine, and whether or not those labels had been switched between himself and Burc'ya. Displeased, he offered the Mando a smile, casting aside his private thoughts for the time being.

"Sounds like you were quite lucky," Cedric sounded pleased, "And it also sounds like you have quite a story to you."

[member="Burc’ya Narric"]

 

[Burc’ya Narric]

"I'm just a Mandalorian trying to make his way in the universe, if luck finds me... well..."

Another thought he let trail off, the fact he was machine never even phased his mind. As far as he was aware, he was just having a conversation with another person, he was distraught as much as he was pleased that the Jedi had spoken again, bringing him back out of the daydream and back into the present. The Jedi was right, the droid did have quite a tale to his name, one that he would be more than willing to divulge to the Jedi, but there seemed to be other matters that would be best to be gotten too sooner than later, he hadn't been the kind to be disrespectful, and as it stood, he was a guest to Cedric, a guest that knew little to nothing about his host or his location.

"Thank you, for patching me up, I'll wire some credits to you as soon as I get paid. If you picked my chip up when you got me, take it. I don't have much but what I do I offer. You saved me, that's more than I can say for most Jedi I've meet, or heard about for that matter."

"You're a good guy, to just heft me up like that, some shiny new eyes you put in, still getting used to them... but..."

The droid seemed to be lost to what he wanted to ask first.

"What can I do? What should I do? Did you find my ship, was it salvageable? My clan, odds are, dead or scattered, not much to my name, hardly ways to pay you back to start, never leave my debts unsettled, not to mention I don't even know what planet, sector, or nation we happen to be in-"

The droid's voice picked up speed at the end, as if he was in a panic.

"I'm sorry... it's just a lot, you know? Listen, just... tell me whatever it is you think I need to know, and then I can find out how I can repay you for saving my life. Deal?"

The droid's questions and hurried statements weren't born out of a want to leave, he quite liked the Jedi, at least first impressions, but the reality of the situation was hitting him rather fast, and if droids could have panic attacks, he was nearly upon one, as if the six hundred years finally caught up, all at once.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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Burc'ya talked a lot.

Granted, that was rather understandable given his situation. Cedric was actively seeking to think of the droid as less of an automaton, and more as a sentient being. The prcoess was rather difficult. The only droid he had ever known to come close to sentience was Dak, and even then the old HK unit had been rather detached from the emotional realities of sentient. In Burc'ya's case, the droid seemed more man than machine.

Cedric opted to simply give him a large summary. It was the best he could offer - the history databases could relay the rest.

"Nearly seven hundred years ago a great disease called the Gulag Plague ravaged the galaxy. Many worlds reverted to a primordial state of life. Others completely lost their space faring capabilities, and others still were wiped out all together. The plague was cured around eighty years ago, and the galaxy has been in a state of turmoil and power fluctuation ever since. Nations have risen and fallen in that time, but the strongest of them that survive today are the Sith Empire, the Outer Rim Confederation, the Silver Jedi, and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The galaxy has never been so divided."

Cedric paused, "I stood as the king of an intergalactic dominion for several years before we were betrayed and our nation destroyed. Right now, we are on the planet Ruusan, in a fortress called the Graywall. My people have gathered here; we are preparing for a mass exodus across the stars."

[member="Burc’ya Narric"]