2 C1P1 - "Roger, Roger"
Providence-Class Carrier-Destroyer, Golden Opportunity
C-Level Prison Section
After my self-forced shutdown, I had been taken to maintenance by a pair of other B1s who had found me. The ship's engineer couldn't find anything wrong with me, but fitted me with a restraining bolt and a new logic core because 'the older model's cores make them shut down too'.
So after a quick reboot and a mild freakout, I was sent to continue my duties as usual. In this case, it was to watch and feed the prisoners being held in C-Level.
I couldn't help but mentally wince from the loud 'clacking' noise from my metal feet making contact with the metal floor, but the endless repetitions soothed that headache and I went about my business, trying to ignore everything but the task before me with singleminded intensity. Anything to ignore the lack of feeling, the fact I didn't have any real biological.
The door bisected and opened as I approached. Almost immediately, I was besieged by a cacophony of voices as I entered. Two dozen and one cells made of durasteel walls lined the sides from left, center, and right, with nothing but myself to face them. Along with a cart full of nutrient paste.
"You're late! Feeding time was almost an hour ago! What gives you stupid clanker," said a bald young man angrily, poking his face into the small window of his door's cell. He raised a hand and gave me a rude gesture. I stopped and stared at him, tilting my head slightly.
"What? Never seen a clone soldier before?" Jeered the man, "Come closer and-"
"Stop hogging its attention span, Stone! At this rate, we'll all starve to death!" Said another voice, gruffer and much more commanding. I look away from Stone and at the clone trooper in the cell at the end of the hall. This one had a scar running down the side of his face, results of what I assumed was poor medical treatment.
Stone scowled and gave me the finger again before back away from his cell door.
I quietly began handing out trays, sliding hem from under the slits of the cell doors. When I reached the gruff clone trooper's cell, he scowled at me from the window before stepping back. I slid the tray under the slit and continued on. The fifteenth cell proved to be the oddest of my trip. The clone behind the cell muttered a soft 'thank you', almost making me pause a moment and come out of my self-induced haze of forced stupor. I nodded once at the cell door's window before moving on.
Walking out of the door, I automatically headed back to C-Level's command center. Information was freely granted here, I discovered. Being a droid of the Confederate military, I was given access to it solely because of the fact that battledroids could not betray their owners. But, as it seemed, I was not their battledroid.
A mild shudder racked through my frame as I distantly realized I had just acknowledged the fact that I was not a living thing anymore. I refused to let myself further devolve and start asking deeper questions.
"Seven-One-One, you're back!" Said the commander B1 in surprise. "Did they find out what was wrong?"
I idly shrug, not trusting myself to speak.
"Ah, well," replied another B1 with his cart, "At least he's mostly working again. Well, I'm off to F-Level!"
"Roger, roger," said the commander. He turned to me and pointed at the seat next to him. "Watch these feeds. If a prisoner looks like he's acting suspicious, inform me. Got that, Seven-One-One?"
I nodded silently, sitting down at the security console, peering down at it.
"I need to make my report to the captain, you stay here and make sure the prisoners in C-Level are secure." The commander droid walked out and I was left alone, with free access to security on this level.
It was a long moment, but I wished I could shut myself off, just so I didn't have to cope with being denied the basic senses of a biological being. I closed my eyes, only to realize all I did was shut off my photoreceptors. I almost tried to massage my temples, only to remember I didn't have temples to massage. Nor could I feel it.
With a sigh, I turned my eyes back on and stared at the console screen. The commander clone was slowly eating his nutrient paste, staring at the door angrily. The third cell had a clone quietly singing to himself. Another was making faces at another clone opposite of him. The fifteenth was idly staring at the door and muttering to himself.
My internal clock said I had only been at the console for fifty seconds.
It was going to be a long day.
