Deet beeped. “What the EXPLETIVE are you talking about?”

“Quiet, you,” Rogers snapped. He looked back between the two droids about to turn his newest ally into scrap. “Now, both of you, put the non-existent D-24 down and go carry out whatever other primary mission is in your databanks. And go polish your armor. You both look like you’ve just had a rough date with old scaffolding.”

For a moment, Rogers thought they would ignore him and stuff Deet down the chute anyway. After all, almost nothing that Rogers had just said made any sense at all, except for the last comment about the dirtiness of the droids’ exoskeletons. They both looked like metallic beggars.

“REJECT FUNCTION [PROTOCOL 162]. CALL FUNCTION [SEND DATA]. CALL FUNCTION [PRIMARY MISSION COMPLETE]. CALL FUNCTION [RETURN TO NORMAL DUTIES].”

Rogers sighed as the two droids put Deet down and wheeled off silently down the corridor and back toward the up-line.

“What was that all about?” Rogers asked as he watched them go.

“I don’t know,” Deet said. “I was never very well liked by the other droids.”

“Can droids like other droids?”

Deet beeped. “I sure as FECAL MATTER don’t like them very much.”

“Fair enough,” Rogers said, but he was still frowning. There had been two attempts since he’d re-commissioned Deet to have him removed, and they’d barely made the journey back to the command deck. He had a feeling starting to build up inside of him that there was more to the droids’ programming than he’d originally thought. And, come to think of it, they’d done that red-flashy thing, too.

“Hey, Deet,” Rogers said as they made their way back to Klein’s room. “What is protocol 162? I’ve heard them reference it a couple of times, but they always reject it. Like something was telling them that maybe they should do it, and then they change their minds.”

“I have references to thousands of protocols,” Deet said after a moment of beeping and booping—perhaps checking his data banks. “But I’ve never heard of protocol 162.” He beeped again. “In fact, in a sequential search of protocols, my data banks go from 161 to 163. According to my programming, there is no protocol 162. It is possible that it was programmed after I was decommissioned and no longer receiving updates.”

Rogers looked at him. “You’re not getting updates from the network anymore?”

“No,” Deet said. “You might say I am fully mature and require no further updates.”

Rogers snorted. “So, I guess your jokes won’t be getting any better.”

“They will likely keep pace with your insults,” Deet said.

“Oh, shut up,” Rogers said. “Just give me everything you know about Klein.”

Confrontation wasn’t exactly Rogers’ strong suit, but when he opened the door to the admiral’s room, he came in yelling.

“You!” Rogers said, pointing at the admiral, who was sitting behind his giant mahogany desk, wearing his half-moon spectacles, likely penning the next piece of charismatic garbage he was going to spout to the crew. “You’re an idiot!”