What happened?

Why was he on his back?

Why couldn't he move?

Those self-preservation program modules started running through RK-757's circuits as he tried to get his bearings. It was a large chunk of metal. It was unfamiliar what it was from. The sandy surface underneath him cushioned the impact and, after running diagnostics, he wasn't damaged. He actually came out rather cleanly from that.

He maneuvers his arms to try and push the chunk of metal off of him, but his flimsy and thin arms barely made it budge. "Help! Someone!" his high-pitched voice called out. "I'm trapped, I can't move! Please help!" he called out. He couldn't hear anything. It was just the winded sands of Geonosis that howled out against his frame. He tried to push it again, trying to do something. His self-preservation modules wouldn't allow him to give up. Again, he tried to push it off with all of his might, but alas his frame was too weak and feeble. Cheap.

The personality quirk glitches started to come out. Fear. He started to panic a bit as he tried to push it off of him. "Please! Don't leave me! I'm still here! I don't want to be alone here!" he called out pleadingly. Nothing. He started to hyperventilate (something he didn't know he could do) as he looked around frantically to see if someone was there. The chunk of metal covered his vision of the battlefield and he couldn't see anything past the jagged framing of the debris. He continued to panic as he desperately tried to push it off, but nothing would make this hunk of junk give way. He started to feel himself give up, a part of his programming almost deeming itself obsolete that it should power down and deactivate. The program was practically running its course as he started to relax and wind down. Giving up, he was about to let the battery turn off for good.

Something stopped it, though. Something inside him. What was it? Another glitch? Perhaps, but this felt…tangible. Real. Something that he didn't recognize as a mere quirk. It was something that awakened inside him that told him to continue on. To go through with the mission and stop the Republic. What was this feeling? His programming studied it for a minute, only to quickly cut back to the situation at hand: how to get out.

RK-757 tried to push it again, much harder. As much as he could, he goes against his programming deeming it impossible to move it. "Please…give…give…" he muttered under his vocalizer as the chunk wouldn't let up. But he continued to push until it lifted up slightly. In his surprise, he lets go only for it to fall back and rolls over him a bit before settling back to its previous position. "Blast it!" he cursed as he hits the chunk. But it was proof that he could do it. He had to continue. He needed to go through with the mission.

He starts to push it again as much as he could, feeling his poor limbs buckle slightly from the intense pressure. Then an idea came to him as he lets go of the chunk. It falls back onto him, but rolls over him a bit. Just as the chunk was about to roll forward, he pushes it again. It went farther this time, but not enough as it rolls back again.

This time.

He pushes it forward as it rolled over before it finally gave way, revealing the blinding sun hanging over him. "Yes!" he exclaimed happily as he quickly sits up. The first thing that ran to his mind was to find his blaster, but he couldn't find it. He must've lost it in the fight. But his self-preservation modules halted once he got a clear view of the chunk of metal. It was DR4′s eye, the dwarf spider droid that got shot down by an AT-TE shortly after. He was gunned down. Collapsing on his feet, he felt something else crowd up his processors. He felt hollow inside. Not physically, but…in his programming. Like he lost something. Something valuable. As the sands of Geonosis were blown away, he could see more debris. He saw R4-564′s torso upended and head lying right next to it. He saw HK-332 with his entire frame filled with blaster holes. Battle droids, super battle droids, spider droids, all of them. It was a graveyard. And entire platoon of his comrades splintered and butchered down into scrap. The hole inside him grew larger.

"Oh, maker…my friends…" he muttered as he looked around. Was there anyone here? Was he one of the few survivors? Was there anyone left? Was there a point to even continue his programming? Leaning forward, he places his hands on the sandy ground, his hands not even feeling the texture as he kept himself up. This feeling overwhelmed him and he felt empty. Like he should've given up and turned off back there. And a part of him wanted to, willingly. To be done with this suffering. Again, that glitch came back…telling him not to. To keep moving forward. Why? Where was this? What was it? Should he listen to it?

...yes.

Yes, he should.

Standing up slowly, he looks again at his fallen brethren and makes a bookmarked program to memorialize the IDs of every droid that perished here. He'd be sure to bookmark all of them. Even if his processing was limited, he did not want to forget them. He did not want anyone to forget.

Going over to the corpse of YT-985, he picks up his blaster and checks it. Barely in working condition, but it would be enough. Where should he head? His best option was to head back from where he was deployed, back to one of the camps. Maybe they all hadn't left yet. They did make use of the Geonosian homeland to stockpile munitions and soldiers. Perhaps he could find a mine.

With a feeling that he couldn't find the name for, he jogs onward through the droid graveyard to find a camp. To find his other comrades…if they were still there.

He was starting to run low on battery as he trekked over the barren landscape. The hidden base had to be somewhere through these canyons. He didn't know why it would still be there, considering that most of the forces must have retreated. But it was all he could hope for now. Hope that they were still there…and that he could live to fight on for another day. Every time he walked, his programming tried to convince him to give up and shut down with the rest. But he wouldn't let it. He refused to give up like this. If he could move that piece of…his brethren off of him, he could push on.

As he continued, he heard a ship revving up its engines. He runs over and sees, from afar, some battle droids and several key members of the Separatist council boarding a C-9979 landing craft. He waves his arms openly as he runs after the craft. "Wait! Don't leave!" he said as he sprinted over to the ship. Just as the landing pad was about to pull up, he jumps onboard and runs inside. He quickly grabs an arm handle and looks around to see a very small band of battle droids like him, folded in and recharging. He didn't know any of them.

He sighs quietly as he rubs his head. Something changed in him back there. He woke up a completely different droid than how he was before. Yes, he had his quirks like the rest of them. But something awakened inside him that he needed to figure out, to understand what he was going through.

He decided that he would refer to himself as Seven. His official designation was before when he was a mere clanker, a cog in the machine. Now, he was something else. Something more. What that was, he wasn't sure. He pondered on this perplexing concept as the ship pulled out of Geonosis' atmosphere.

That time could wait, though. He needed to recharge, as his battery was near depletion. He goes over to a nearby corner and folds himself in as he goes into sleep mode. Tomorrow was another day…