Star Wars: Tales of the Bounty Hunters

Star Wars: Tales of the Bounty Hunters by Kevin J. Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: Star Wars: Tales of the Bounty Hunters by Kevin J. Anderson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
being assembled, lubricants applied.He could not smell, though his chemical-analysis tracers detected minor concentrations of welding compounds and aerosol sealants floating in the air.
    The assembly droids slaved diligently at their tasks. They reveled in being self-aware, applying themselves to their job with enthusiasm.
Freedom
. It made all the difference in the world.
    At the end of the assembly line the last black Arakyd Viper probot was powered on. Inspector 11, a meticulous analysis droid, stepped back out of the way. The articulated probe droid rose up on small repulsor jets, floating, moving its six segmented, claw-tipped legs. The probot’s flattened head spun about, turning its suite of optical sensors in all directions, scanning data.
    IG-88 stood motionless, waiting to be acknowledged. IG-88 was proud to be responsible for such a creation: black and polished and beautiful, sleek curves, high reflectance.
    Built to specifications Darth Vader and Imperial Supervisor Gurdun had transmitted to Mechis III, the probot was sleek and multifunctional in a much broader range of activities than IG-88 could ever be. However, IG-88 had included a secondary set of instructions giving the probe droid a higher priority mission in parallel with its search for the Empire. He liked the probot’s black armor, its darkness. It reminded him of Vader himself.…
    When the Dark Lord of the Sith had arrived unexpectedly on Mechis III, IG-88 had been greatly shaken. As he watched Vader and analyzed him with various unobtrusive probes, IG-88 saw that Vader was not merely a trivial organic life form, not just walking meat—he was a perfect synthesis of man and machine, an integrated body with droid components and biological intelligence, imagination, and initiative.
    IG-88 had studied the tapes of Vader’s visit, analyzing every fluid motion the towering Dark Lord made, every flick of his cape, every motion of his arm. Always beforeIG-88 had considered biologicals to be worthless in every sense, inferior to what any good droid could do—but now he reconsidered that Vader might perhaps be the best of both forms.
    Awe was a new sensation, and IG-88 analyzed that as well.
    By tapping into his droids infiltrated into the Empire, he had learned that Vader’s flagship, the
Executor
, was a Super Star Destroyer eight kilometers long, laced with powerful computers and functioning with a crew far smaller than might be expected for such a scaled-up version of an
Imperial
-class Star Destroyer. The construction of this incredible battleship had practically bankrupted several systems.
    IG-88’s circuits warmed as he diligently tried to think of ways to use this information, or perhaps even the
Executor
itself, to further his own plans.
    On the assembly line, the Arakyd Viper rotated on its axis with short, hissing bursts from altitude-control jets. It sent a high-speed encoded transmission burst at IG-88, filled with a thousand questions.
    Who are you?
    Why are you here?
    What is your mission?
    IG-88 answered in its own language, responding in kind. “You are the last,” he said. “The last of thousands to go out and scour the galaxy to search and report.”
    The probe droid already knew its priority instructions from IG-88. Yes, it was to report to Darth Vader—but it was also to send another detailed message to Mechis III. Thousands of probots would be IG-88’s eyes and ears, spying on the galaxy as a whole, uncovering weaknesses for the droids to exploit in their plans for overall conquest.
    These probots also had the sentience programming, the spark of intellect that IG-88 had shared with hismechanical brothers. The probe droids would be the scouts in the great droid revolution.
    The Arakyd Viper reached out with one powerful metal claw, and IG-88 grasped it with his own hand, not quite comprehending what the probot intended. The black droid squeezed with a pincer grip that would have sliced off any trivial organic appendage. IG-88

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