Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [66]
It might have been different had he just taken I-Five’s statement at face value. It might have been easier to dismiss it, to label it some strange misfiring of the droid’s synaptic grid, or a subroutine programmed as a bizarre joke. But he had looked with the Force. He had seen the connection between the man he knew was his father and this … machine.
And, to be brutally honest, he’d also seen the barest suggestion that there might really be something more to I-Five.
Jax shook his head. This was something he most certainly didn’t need right now.
twenty-five
Den looked at I-Five. A dozen remarks occurred to him, ranging from snide to angry to sympathetic, but he voiced none of them. The emotions the droid was projecting were all too familiar to any sentient organic being: disappointment and hurt.
He finally said, “You really should get that deactivation switch, uh, deactivated.”
I-Five didn’t reply. There was no real need to; Den knew the switch was hardwired into his primary processor and couldn’t be removed. But the statement had at least filled the silence for a moment.
“What now?” he asked.
“I’ll follow him,” I-Five said. His vocalizations sounded hollow. “I’ll keep my distance until he … gets used to me, feels more comfortable with me around.”
Den fell in alongside him. They were proceeding down a no-longer-functioning slidewalk. There were only a few other pedestrians around, and little air or ground traffic, either; it was as close to deserted as Den had ever seen any area of Coruscant. A few flimsies and other lightweight scraps were blown about by the traffic. They all combined with the never-ending twilight to create the ambience of a ghost town.
“And if he doesn’t get used to you?”
“I don’t know,” I-Five said, quietly. He spread his hands, palms up; his equivalent of a human shrug. “I don’t know. I’m … not sure what to do.”
Den was astonished. I-Five always knew his own mind; he had never before shown any hesitancy in choosing a course of action. Unlike other sentients, he had no unconscious mind that could make irrational decisions.
Or did he? Was the development of an underlying substrate of unconsciousness an inevitable result of self-awareness? In order for I-Five to be sentient, did he also have to be, to a degree, neurotic?
Den shook his head. This was a philosophical quagmire more dangerous to be exploring than a black hole.
“Well,” he said, “you can always resume your career as a nanny droid.”
The droid shot him a withering look. “I’d suggest a secondary line of employment if you’re going to attempt stand-up comedy. Not to mention turbolift shoes if you want people to see your act.”
Den grinned. He was glad to see a flash of the old I-Five reasserting itself. His friend and partner had been uncharacteristically humorless and moody of late.
His grin faded as he thought about Pavan’s rudeness. He could only imagine how I-Five felt. The droid had taken Pavan the elder’s last request very seriously, and now that he’d finally fulfilled it, he’d been rebuffed, shut down both literally and figuratively.
It might be for the best, Den mused. Maybe soon I-Five would quit chasing after Pavan and remember who his real friend was. The jealousy he’d felt earlier was rearing its ugly, green-eyed head again. Den’s dislike of Jax Pavan, he realized with surprise, was rapidly escalating into actual hatred.
You could turn him in.
Den blinked in surprise, as if he’d heard the idea whispered to him by some unknown voice, instead of it originating in his own head. It was true, however. All it would take was one call, and he knew how to easily arrange it so that the betrayal could never be traced back to him. I-Five might suspect, but he couldn’t be sure.
Problem was that Den himself would know what he’d done. There was no way he could justify feeding someone to the Emperor simply on account of being rude. While it was true that, in the less-than-an-hour he’d known Pavan, the man had completely alienated him, plotting his betrayal was a little extreme.
Still, the little voice in his head whispered,