Rex didn’t ever think he’d feel… pity, for a battle droid, but he feels it now, because the droids are standing in front of him, confused (that’s the only normal thing about this whole situation), but strangely… hopeful.
“The… u-u-union?” the first droid repeats, tilting it’s head. The stutter sounds like some sort of voice-modulator glitch, especially if it’s true that the software hasn’t been updated for so long.
“Yeah, the union,” Cody drawls slowly, putting a hand on Rex’s shoulder. Rex can feel his brother’s mind working, calculating. “We’re in the same boat, clones and droids. We’re mistreated, unpaid, and fed up with it. Would you like to change that?”
If they’d been clones, they would have hesitated. Asked for more details. Thought it through, considered every option for a couple days. But they’re droids, and their processors whip through all of that faster than Rex can blink.
“W-what will it cost?” the first droid asks. Rex grins.
“Your processors, your help. We’ll have to team up. That means, no more Republic-seperatist shootouts.”
The droid stares at him for a moment, and then nods jerkily. Rex takes a step forward and offers it his hand. He isn’t expecting the droid to flinch backwards, hinges hissing in alarm, and then realizes with a start that the droid probably doesn’t even know what a handshake is.
“Here, wait,” he says placatingly, and reaches for it slowly, feeling another surge of that strange combination of pity and understanding. He uses his free hand to guide the droid’s metal fingers into his opposite palm.
“This is what sentient beings do when they greet people,” Rex explains gently, “or when they’re making an agreement. It’s a sign of friendliness, or trust.”
He shakes the loose limb and feels the droid’s grip tighten–too much, half comprehending, so Rex quickly extracts his hand before the droid can do any damage in the misunderstanding.
“Right, then,” Cody says with a grin. “Let’s get to work. What are you called, droid?”
It looks at them, glances back to it’s fellows behind them, silently watching. Waiting for it, the designated leader, to make a decision.
The answer makes Rex’s lip curl. It’s not exactly the same, because this is, after all, a droid, but it’s all too familiar at the same time.
“No, not that,” he responds. “That’s a number. We’re looking for a name.”
The droid whirrs. It sounds like it’s processor is struggling to keep up.
“Nn-nnname,” it repeats, glitching out again. “I have not–never–”
“Okay, it’s okay,” Cody reassures it. “We’ll call you Glitch, then. Until you can think of something better.”
The droid–Glitch–nods in acceptance, and Rex scowls because that easy acceptance and obedience isn’t desirable in anything sentient, not even droids, but there will be time to teach them how to think later.
“Let’s go,” he says and turns on his heel, still half-expecting to get shot in the back. He grins and shares a triumphant glance with Cody when he hears the clatter of a platoon of battle droids following them.
That sound has never before brought him so much hope, and this is just the beginning.
