Within the most recent memory you are able to access, you find yourself on a raft, floating along a current with several other passengers. The way the tunnel is lit up, you're able to determine that it isn't water that surrounds you, but a river of lava. There's light at the end of the tunnel that grows steadily larger as your raft continues along. But judging from the way the passengers are positioned - a muscular woman armed with a heavy repeating blaster, and an older man with blasters in each hand - it's clear that trouble awaits them on the outside.
"Listen," comes a muffled voice from in front of you. Your optics focus on the Mandalorian hunter, on the child in his arms. "You're not going anywhere. We need you. Let's just come up with a - "
"Please tell me the child will be safe in your care," you interrupt. "If you do so, I can default to my secondary command."
"But you'll be destroyed," is the Mandalorian's horrified rebuttal.
"And you will live," you say. "And I will have served my purpose."
The Mandalorian's face is obscured by his helmet, but the pain in his voice is palpable. He's in obvious denial of the situation at hand.
"No," he protests, insistent. "We need you."
"There is nothing to be sad about," you remind him. "I have never been alive."
"I'm not sad."
"Yes you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analyzed your voice."
The Mandalorian doesn't respond, which you take as a silent acknowledgment that your assessment was correct. You extend a spindly mechanical finger and tenderly run it along the child's ear as one last farewell before you disengage... and step off the raft.
What remains of your neural harness is shrieking in protest as the lava comes up to your knees. The older man yells after you, and your party can only watch in horror as you begin your slow trudge towards the mouth of the tunnel. The sensors in your head are blaring warnings. What is pain, if not an identification of harmful stimuli within your environment, and your self-defense systems urging you to avoid it?
It's a long, arduous journey, but eventually you make your way outside... A battalion of men in plasteel armor await you, their blasters raised. You do not fear them. Not when you've come so far already.
"Manufacturer's protocol dictates I cannot be captured."
A panel on your chest slides open. A detonator within starts to whine. The men in armor can only stare in what must be terror, realizing now what's about to happen.
[1 / 2]
Within the most recent memory you are able to access, you find yourself on a raft, floating along a current with several other passengers. The way the tunnel is lit up, you're able to determine that it isn't water that surrounds you, but a river of lava. There's light at the end of the tunnel that grows steadily larger as your raft continues along. But judging from the way the passengers are positioned - a muscular woman armed with a heavy repeating blaster, and an older man with blasters in each hand - it's clear that trouble awaits them on the outside.
"Listen," comes a muffled voice from in front of you. Your optics focus on the Mandalorian hunter, on the child in his arms. "You're not going anywhere. We need you. Let's just come up with a - "
"Please tell me the child will be safe in your care," you interrupt. "If you do so, I can default to my secondary command."
"But you'll be destroyed," is the Mandalorian's horrified rebuttal.
"And you will live," you say. "And I will have served my purpose."
The Mandalorian's face is obscured by his helmet, but the pain in his voice is palpable. He's in obvious denial of the situation at hand.
"No," he protests, insistent. "We need you."
"There is nothing to be sad about," you remind him. "I have never been alive."
"I'm not sad."
"Yes you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analyzed your voice."
The Mandalorian doesn't respond, which you take as a silent acknowledgment that your assessment was correct. You extend a spindly mechanical finger and tenderly run it along the child's ear as one last farewell before you disengage... and step off the raft.
What remains of your neural harness is shrieking in protest as the lava comes up to your knees. The older man yells after you, and your party can only watch in horror as you begin your slow trudge towards the mouth of the tunnel. The sensors in your head are blaring warnings. What is pain, if not an identification of harmful stimuli within your environment, and your self-defense systems urging you to avoid it?
It's a long, arduous journey, but eventually you make your way outside... A battalion of men in plasteel armor await you, their blasters raised. You do not fear them. Not when you've come so far already.
"Manufacturer's protocol dictates I cannot be captured."
A panel on your chest slides open. A detonator within starts to whine. The men in armor can only stare in what must be terror, realizing now what's about to happen.
"I must be destroyed."]