My initial thought is that he wouldn't, he'd respect Jet's choice in not telling them and in that way try to give him back his agency.

Luke, born slightly earlier than in canon, gets into the Imperials Pilot Academy (I can’t remember the name) but is recognised for both it and his engineering talents, due to his natural skills and also some nudges from the force he goes to the Death Squadron. Then Vader (or the Emperor or Shmi) notices Luke, or he helps Vader in an emergency, ect. And he joins Vader’s team.

Included in this are a few scientists and engineers and others (presumably the inquisitors to some extent too) Shmi, Piett, and now Luke.

This is the base model for a droid:

Needless to say, there’s plenty of room for these droids to be misused — and good reason to let the virus in. Add that to the people that have cybernetic enhancements, high tech weaponry, and smart devices… yeah, there’s a problem.

Here u go! Decided to try something different with this one

I think it got nice

He’s not really surprised to see Michael on the other side, curls a little wet from the rain but otherwise looking no worse for wear.

But then he registers Michael’s hunched posture, his missing signature scowl, the way Michael is staring resolutely over Ryan’s shoulder instead of directly at him, and Ryan’s brows knit together again, this time in concern. He ushers Michael in, closes the door behind him and muffles the gentle drumming of the rain. “What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s already scanning Michael, trying to find a broken part or an exposed circuit.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Michael responds sullenly. He stops in the middle of the workshop and shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s still refusing to look Ryan in the eye, so Ryan walks around to stand in front of him.

“Something is,” Ryan counters. He reaches out, cradles Michael’s chin in his hand. Tries and fails to force the android to meet his eyes. “You were pretty adamant about not needing me when you left. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Yeah, well.”

Ryan won’t be able to fix this with words, then. No matter; he’s never had the best words anyway. Instead, he steps away and pulls out his handheld, where he opens Michael’s file and the scanning software. Michael still refuses to look at him, which he won’t deny stings quite a bit, but it makes it easy to plug the handheld into the port under Michael’s left ear.

“What the fu—”

“You may refuse to tell me what’s wrong but your coding won’t lie. Do I need to shut you down?”

“No, it’s not— there’s nothing wrong with my hardware, you don’t need to—”

“So it’s a software problem,” Ryan muses.

“No! Look, shut up, there’s no problem, it’s just.” Michael exhales angrily, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know what to do.”

That catches Ryan’s attention, and he looks up from his handheld, where the results of the diagnostic are slowly flickering across the screen. “What to do?” he echoes.

Michael shifts again and pulls his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms. “I can’t taste things, I can’t sleep, I can’t feel pain or textures or temperature, I’m just wandering around in a fog. So what’s the point of it all? What’s the point of anything? What am I supposed to do?” The words come out in a rush, like Michael’s been sequestering them behind his teeth, tasting them over and over until he has no choice but to spit them out. “And you’re the robot doctor, you know how this all works. I’m just a stupid ‘droid. So I thought, maybe you have answers. And once I get those answers, I’ll fuck off again.”