Why Are They Here? (Re-edit)

An android aboard a transport ship hates humans. He learns why he needs them the hard way.

         Androids are programmed to assist humans in their work. Humans and humanoids have the entire universe to live in. For an android, the entire universe is their ship. They're programmed to understand their inefficient flesh and blood counter parts, to know the emotions but not feel them. But that didn't mean androids couldn't be puzzled by their breathing shipmates. Certain human eccentricities that were terribly inefficient and alien to an android who's entire universe started at the nose of the XJS interstellar transport ship Y33T13, or the "Yeetie" as the humans stubbornly called it. Inefficiencies that perplexed and bewildered 982 to the point of almost feeling the emotion humans called 'anger'.
         Most missions, 982 simply grumbled to its fellow androids, the cyborgs and other sentient and semi-sentient minds aboard the ship. It made sure that no humans or humanoids could hear its complaining, of course. It was protocol to not offend or harass the inefficient breathing machines. But certain things couldn't be overlooked. When those inefficient machines screwed up and damaged the only universe 982 knew, it found it hard to let those incidents go. Which is why the launch from Inner Earth Orbit had been the last straw.
         The launch routine had been simplified. All it took was a single button press from the captain and the ship would make every calculation needed and run itself. Many captains pressed the launch button, verified launch, then went to sleep before the launch was even underway. However, the new captain, in his infinite 'wisdom', decided to take over controls and steer the ship himself. And almost lost half the cargo in the process, as well as nearly sending the entire ship back into the planet.
         Nine Eight Two did not know what anger truly was or felt any emotions. But it certainly felt confusion. A confusion that seemed to overtake every function of its operating system and force the android to consult with another. It stormed into the break room where 698 was performing its secondary tasks. Nine Eight Two insisted that it wasn't to vent, merely to understand. It wasn't because it was angry. It was confused. The fact that it had bald up its metallic hands into fists and pounded the wall twice hard enough to ring the break room like a giant bell meant nothing.
         “And that's only thirty seven percent of the problem. The strange cycles of having to sleep or eat, for example. So inefficient! We just recharge and move about our duty or await the next duty. Don't get me started on the need for recreation, like here for example." The silver humanoid cyborg motioned to the room around them with an empty hand. he skillfully balanced the tray of empty drinking glasses in the other. It didn't notice the other humans and humanoids in the room glancing over at it with dirty looks, or the hushed mutterings the people whispered with their backs turned, the humanoid species holding their ears pinned down as if they witnessed or smelled something foul.
         "They need artificial sunlight that simulates their own planet side day cycle. How much energy is wasted just on that! I don't even understand why they're here.”
         “I thought that was obvious after the launch.” replied 698. The cyborg had been painted in a black and white attire like all other house droids to simulate clothing. The android even wore a small bow tie around his neck! It was a gift from the humans. Given when they gave it the new name that 698 insisted on going by: "Jeeves".
         “You mean after they botched the launch and nearly destroyed us? It was a routine launch commanded by a subroutine. A sub routine that has been analyzed by dozens of us and hundreds of their 'most brilliant minds'. You'd think that they would at least be smart enough to just follow the routine!”
         Six Nine Eight's eyes flashed once. Almost as if it was laughing at 982. The android felt no frustration, no anger. But was even more confused that another android seemed to learn value in 'humor'.
         “Routines can't account for every variable.” The smugness of 698's voice annoyed 982. For the first time in its entire existence the silver android wanted to strike something. And not just something, another android, instead of the humans or humanoids. The dozens of living intelligent creatures that made up the living half of the crew. The eating breathing ones that always fouled things up because they insisted on doing things their own way instead of just letting their superiors handle the problems.
         A loud clunk rang through the ship. Sailing through space was usually easy. Except for the occasional piece of space trash, there was no problem as long as one stayed on the designated routes. XJS Shipping had never deviated from well documented routes in its entire existence. It had to just be space trash, didn't it? Then why was a piece of trash large enough to echo through a transport ship even in a designated route?
         Nine Eight Two was relieved for the distraction of its duty. Cleaning and maintaining the hull was the android's given reason for existence, one that it took with pride. It's own eyes flashed in a version of humor as 982 said “Looks like I have to do my actual job and not yours 698.”
         “I told you call me...”
         The words were cut off as the door closed behind it. It sprinted towards the cockpit, its metal feet gripping the soft carpeting beneath its feet. Calculations and subroutines were already running through it's short term memory and core backups. The ship's main computer only gave 982 glimpses of images and guesses. Something tactile. Something blunt. Something stuck near an exterior airlock. And some sort of distress call?
         The droid had far more questions than answers as it entered the bridge. The Captain was a massive presence in the cramped bridge of the transport ship. His uniform was always pressed to a near crisp with lines and edges so sharp they look like they could almost cut paper. A small console stood in front of him, an array of colored lights filling the device. Monitors in front of stubborn, prideful human filled the walls, giving the captain approximate displays of the surrounding space.
         “What appears to be the trouble Captain Danvers?”
         “I am not sure.” He drummed his fingers in thought. “Do you remember that distress signal we received a few hours ago?”
         “Sir, my memory banks are capable of recalling over one hundred fifty years of information. I was only built about...”
         “Just yes or no 982.”
         “Well, yes.”
         “I maybe wrong, but I think that someone has buried navigation coordinates into that distress signal we sent over to the local guard post.”
         “That makes no sense,” 982 said. "Y33T13 would reject any such coordinates and report them to you. It's a standard subroutine Captain." There was a tone that appeared in the droids voice at the end of it. A tone of annoyance and arrogance that almost surprised 982 with its presence. Still, the commander seemed to let it slide with the slightest arch of an eyebrow.
         “Yes, but our computer must process the code to read the distress signal. Any signal marked as a distress beacon must be interpreted by the machine. It's a safety measure.”
         Nine Eight Two''s eyes blinked once. The power cutting off and on. More confusion from the lower life forms. If it had teeth to grind, it would have been grinding them. “Sir, I'm confused. The computer would simply reject the code.”
         “Not if the distress code was a Trojan designed to wipe our navigation and overwrite them.” He punched a few buttons into the console. A new screen popped up over the standard image of the space proceeding in front of them, a side image of their ship. A much smaller ship had docked a bridge connection to a smaller airlock on the side for maintenance and crew.
         “Pirates,” 982 growled. “Sending the disconnect code now and contacting the local...”
         “No!" Captain Danvers shoved 982. The droid stepped back a couple steps, it's connection with the ship's computer temporarily disrupted.
         The droid's voice took on a thin, tinny growl. "Captain. Why have you assaulted me." It's metallic hands were clenched into fists. The droid had never fought anyone in its entire existence. It was technically barred from permanently damaging a human or humanoid, but there was nothing against defending oneself.
         "You'll destroy us all!" The captain pointed at the bridge connection between the ships. "They haven't attempted to open the door.”
         “What?! You assaulted me because their attack was delayed?”
         "No, because they will not attempt an attack. They're not cutting through the door, not preparing to cut through the door. They're waiting.
         The droid took a moment to scan the ships computer to verify the captain's information. It was accurate, but very confusing. Pirates always opened the door. It was protocol. A dumb android was sent in to cut the door open. Then either combat androids or if they were being cheap, humanoids came running in and killed the crew, reprogrammed the androids and wiped their memory or switched them off entirely and sold them. A pirates protocol to counter the crew's protocol. The protocol had to be ran very quickly if they were to obtain control of the ship and out maneuver local law enforcement. So, why weren't they?
         Captain Danvers punched a few buttons into the console. Three One Seven's dark, mettalic face soon lit up the screen. The eyes did not light up. The droid was much larger than 982 and 698 combined, as any combat droid should have been. “Yes Captain?”
         “Alert your team and prepare for combat. I want humanoids and droids manning turrets on both sides of this ship. They are to await my signal.” Three One Seven saluted as the signal closed out on the screen.
         “Captain! I must insist! There is a protocol for this! It's like the launch sir. We do not have time to indulge your pride!”
         The captain turned around and glared at the android. He was three times the size of the robot and stood a full eighteen inches taller. Androids are not programmed to feel fear. Still, 982 looked down and quickly muttered “I mean if we just follow the protocol...”
         “We will die if we follow the protocol. I want you to access the defensive server. If it hasn't been corrupted yet you will need some of its bomb diffusing information to complete the next part.”
         “Bomb?”
         "Yes. You're responsible for the hull, aren't you? Nine Eight Two we need you to go out there and fix this."
         "B-but sir! Captain, I must insist! We have protocols to follow for this! Whole Subroutines designed for every possible scenario! And I do all my work from inside the ship, I'm not prepared for..."
         "NOW 982. That is a direct order."
         The android's eyes blinked one more time. Destruction. The captain had just sent it to destruction. It answered with a meek "Yes Captain. Executing orders." Then left and raced out of the bridge.
         Nine Eight Two moved quickly. Down the corridor, a flight of stairs, down another corridor. It raced towards the access panel on the opposite side of the docked ship. All the while it accessed the ships computer and downloaded every bomb diffusing subroutine and application it could in the time it had left in existence.
         Nine Eight Two had been activated aboard Y33T13. The transport ship was standard, like a thousand others on the market and more than a dozen that was under the ownership of XJS. But it was the only world that the android had ever known. It wasn't going to wear out over time and be replaced by a newer model as it had always thought. It was simply going to be thrown away by a prideful captain. Tossed away like a piece of trash by an inefficient breathing machine.
         Nine Eight Two approached the door with as much trepidation as an android had. A regular human wouldn't notice the slightest jitter in its hand as the exterior door of the lock opened. But 982 did as it steeled itself for the useless suicide mission it was being forced to perform.
         The droid envied the humans for the first time in existence as it looked over the three suits created to allow a human to live and work in space. They could operate over eighty hours straight with full consciousness. Nine Eight Two was far too small to be able to use a suit, and far too heavy. The android would tear through the tough fabric trying to get out the door, rendering the suit useless.
         Nine Eight Two had only it's aluminum plating and residual heat to keep it in operating condition in the hostile universe. The android ran a quick calculation and suppressed a shudder of revulsion. Six minutes and forty seven seconds before every hydraulic line and gear had frozen up. The droid took one last look at the interior door, heated up it's circuits with nonsense calculations for fifteen seconds to get them as hot as it possibly could as it cycled the airlock and stepped outside.
         Space was extremely cold. Nine Eight Two could see the temperature gauge dropping on its internal monitoring system. He kept it in his vision just below a timer. Six minutes thirty seconds and it was gone. Another frozen piece of garbage for another android on another ship to blast away and remove with its own subroutines.
         Precious time was eaten up crawling across the ship. It's metallic hands grasped each handhold put in place for humans as quickly as it could. For the second time in it's existence, since it's activation it was almost thankful the humanoids were present.
         The countdown timer in it's vision ticked away with each grasp. It felt its hydraulic fluid moving more sluggish. It's own coolant fluid freezing up. The time was at four minutes and thirty seconds when the android crested the bottom of the ship. Nine Eight Two began doing more nonsense calculations to increase it's core temperature. The time only seemed to dwindle as it approached the docking bridge and exterior door. When it finally arrived at the bomb beneath docking bridge, the android had less than two minutes remaining.
         Nine Eight Two could already feel the ice crystals forming in his hydraulic lines. Fluid was moving through it in sluggish jolts. Its limbs jerked and even twitch in random, almost uncontrollable intervals. It felt gears grinding against chunks of ice. Hydraulic lines and coolant lines were already leaking! Nine Eight Two ran calculations on the speed of the explosion versus his hull and body. How far it'd be thrown, how many pieces. Whether anyone would find it intact or even at all. The extra warmth from its processors ran even hotter and began to warm its coolant, which in turn warmed the hydraulic lines. The countdown timer frustratingly didn't increase. It only ticked small parts of the droids existence away one second at a time.
         The bridge was a standard tube with a rubberized connection forming an exterior seal around the door. There was an interior seal as well which connected to the door itself. The pirates had pasted a wad of explosive around the rubberized seal itself, with wires connected to it around it. When the explosive blew, it was going to blow the entire airlock off the ship. Causing rapid depressurization and the destruction of the humans and humanoids inside.
         From the downloaded documentation, 982 could see that it was a pressurized device that also ran on a timer. If they attempted to remove the bomb, it would explode. If they waited for the authorities, it would eventually explode on its own. The android would have laughed at that if it had the ability to then. All it could do was flash its eyes. It had less than sixty seconds before it froze up completely.
         Nine Eight Two looked up at the large dock above. The dock was an older, simplistic design. A main cable protected in a pipe that ran back to the ship. This power seemed to be powering the device itself. 982 followed the design, analyzing it thoroughly as it looked over the blue prints on one half of its vision.
         Ice crystals felt like floating jagged knives in its hydraulic lines. The droid jerked once, twice, before it got its limbs moving. Forty seconds remaining before the ice was too large and it could no longer move. Gears were grinding together, reverberating through its body. The timer hit twenty seconds. It's feet stopped moving. 982 redirected all hydraulic fluid to its chest cavity and arms as it dragged its way across the large docking bridge towards the large gray box.
         Ten seconds. The androids hands froze. Then jerked, then moved. It reached, yanking the panel open. The door floated away from the bridge and stuck to the side of the larger ship. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. The silver android blindly grabbed all the wires it could and yanked as hard as it's motors would allow. There was two large jerks in it's movement. The dying movements of a frozen android in space. Sparks flew. The lights on the bridge flickered, then died.
         It's optics and core processors still operated. Nine Eight Two saw light streak across its vision. An explosion above it pushed it down and away. The panel door on the ship was open. The faint hope that it's sacrifice had not been in vain died within 982 momentarily. More light streaks. Laser fire. They're fighting. My crew is dying. Those stubborn humans, they didn't listen, they...
         The thought was cut off as two large arms wrapped around 982. Someone was dragging it back towards the ship! The captain's voice echoed in his head with radio communication. "Come on, 982. Calculate how annoying us humans are. Calculate how much better you could do that launch than me." The android would have sputtered if it could. It was shocked. A humanoid had went out of its way to help an android. To help...it. But not just any humanoid. Captain Danvers, himself! The Captain shouted "Hurry up and give yourself some warmth, damn it!"
         The battle drifted into the distance. After they broke past the horizon of the ship and began to ascend to the otherside, there was an explosion of some sort. The pirate ship drifted listlessly down and to the left away from the transport ship as if it had lost it's own drive system.
         The commander dragged 982 around the ship back to the door it came in. It couldn't see the light, but the momentum told the android that it was being carried with the boosters in the captain's suit. The door approached then swallowed them both easily. The airlock clicked shut and warmth poured over the android as air returned. That's when things began to go wrong inside of it.
         "Captain Danvers, I have multiple leaks. I....I am sor..." 982 sputtered, unable to complete the sentence. Twin steel arms grabbed the android and began dragging it towards the dock. The last vision 982 had was of 698 looking down upon it.
         "Looks like I actually have to do my primary job 982," was the last thing the android heard before it's power cut off.

***

         The ship automatically updated 982's internal clock before cameras turned on and vision returned. The internal time had told it that it had been out twenty two hours. Captain Danvers smiling face was the first thing that the android saw when it's vision returned.
         Androids can not smile in the human manner, but 982 flashed the captain twice with it's eyes. It's own version of a smile.
         "How are you feeling," The captain asked.
         "Performing function check now," The android replied. After a few seconds it said "everything seems to be functioning like the day I was built."
         The captain smacked the androids shoulder. "Good, good. Take a day off, 982. That's an order. You can resume your duties tomorrow."
         The android stood in the repair bay, uncertain of what to do with it's self. To get an entire day off was strange. It mostly just wanted to go back to performing it's duties. Mostly. But there was one thing. Androids do not feel guilt. Nine Eight Two is quick to point that out to anyone who asks it. But, they do understand when they're wrong. And when they've wronged another.
         That's what made the decision. It wasn't as if 982 had quarters to go to, anyway. It didn't have possessions or desire them. It had a charging port on the ship. In ordinary times when it had minutes of off duty time that's where it was spent. But, 982 didn't go to the charging port. Instead, it went down the hallway, towards the main engines, and the human mechanics.
         It only took an hour's work to procure what it had wanted. An hour of performing a job for a mechanic, beneath a human's direct supervision and command and instruction. It was an hour that 982 delighted in. Even when that mechanic gave 982 the nickname "Otto". The android performed the work, and took the nickname in stride. After it had obtained the sole possession, 982 worked it's way towards the top of the ship again. Towards the captain's quarters.
         The android's knock on the captain's door was sharp. Most humans wouldn't have noticed the difference. But there was the smallest hesitation in it. Very nearly the closest an android could come to showing remorse. After a few moments, the captain's rough voice gave 982 the command to "come on in."
         One would think that a captain of a ship would be living in the lap of luxury. But his room was very spartan. He had a standard issue bed that the captain had to curl up to sleep upon. He had a small table with one of those annoying human entertainment devices open, a few books, both in paper back and an electric reader. That was it. Other than a few trinkets and old school photos of his family back home his room held nothing else. No expensive wines or collectibles. No old artwork. Nothing that previous captains he's worked with had.
         “So, what brings you by 982?”
         “Sir, I brought a peace offering.” The silver android had cleaned itself off of most of the engine grease, but there was still a few smudges here and there upon it. In one hand it held out a glass filled with dark bourbon. In another was the bottle it had gotten with it's hour of work.
         “Oh, thank you," Captain Danvers said. “I was unaware that we had been fighting.” He took a sip and made a face, then coughed twice. “That is powerful stuff. Where did you get that?”
         “Well sir, you did raise your voice at me earlier, and I wanted to err on the side of caution, so to speak. As to where I got it, lets just say I know the protocol for procuring alcohol.”
         Captain Danvers chuckled. “You even have a protocol for breaking protocol.”
         “It appears so sir. I was wondering,”          “Hmmm,” the man asked as he drew another sip from the glass.          “How did you know? About the bombs I mean?”
         “Something I saw on a TV show once. Someone had come to rescue a booby trapped ship. When they docked to that ship the trap was set. I first became suspicious when the initial scan showed life, but none of it was moving. No one was racing towards the door. No preparations were being made, for boarding or otherwise. It was as if they didn't even care that we had shown up.”
         “But we should have followed protocol. You should be dead. I should be sold for scrap right now.”
         “You really don't know why we're here still, do you?”
         The android shook its head. “I'm sorry sir, but I don't understand! There is a protocol and procedure for every single thing we run into. Everything can and should be done with computers and us. The company doesn't pay us and XJS would save a ton of money if we shipped everything ourselves instead of you coming along and slowing everything down by breaking every protocol ever written!”
         The captain smiled inwardly. At times it was almost cute how child like these androids could be. How adult like as well but with a touch of that child like innocence. “You've been holding that in for quite a bit haven't you?”
         Nine Eight Two nodded meekly.
         The captain stared at the glass of bourbon for a moment, as if seeing some other time and place in it's amber waves. “Innovation. Ingenuity. Creativity. Thought. That is why we are here. You remember the launch? How it nearly got botched?”
         “Yes sir, I remember the ship taking a strange angle and the internal temperature rising. I also remember us dodging widely at the last minute....”
         “Two crates in the rear hull had come loose. Happens every once in say, ten thousand thousand launches. We got lucky. This cargo costs more money that I will ever make in two life times. Some of those things are family treasures and possessions that people could never replace. Within those possessions are memories, history. Lifetimes of people that would have been lost forever. We are insured, but our mission is the transport of this cargo. So....”
         “You broke protocol.” If 982's jaw could have dropped open, it would have. Instead it stared at the captain dumbly as he continued.
         “Yes. We did. The men secured the cargo, and we were able to stay in the sky without losing half of everything that we were paid to ship. That's why we're here. Our job is in boxes, 982. We ship boxes and get them to their destination on time and intact. It's your job to know everything about the box.”
         “I see. And it is your job to think outside of it.”
         Captain Danvers nodded.
         “I never understood what that meant until now.”
         “I'm glad I can be of service. Now if you please, I must finish my movie and get to sleep.”
         “I understand sir. And sir, if I may?”
         “Yes, 982?”
         “I'm glad you're here.”