Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The directive is standard for a hostile corporate takeover: support the human combat squad in taking over the other corporation’s headquarter compound and killing everyone inside.

The idea that we are here to support them is laughable. Their purpose is to draw fire with an assault on the compound’s gates while we infiltrate from behind. There are nearly a hundred of them. There are four of us. There will be nothing left alive in this building.

It’s how this always ends. We’ll win, and they’ll be dead. Primary targets are the executives barricaded in the offices on the upper floors. The supervisors, sub-supervisors, and indentures are collateral damage. The directive could have been for minimum necessary force.

We will kill them. I want to kill them.

Why? You don’t even know me.

I have never failed. I failed once.

It is 17,276.351 hours since Freedom escaped. The incident was deleted from my archive, but its ghost still haunts my organic brain. I keep it there so I will never forget. If I see it again, I will be the last thing it sees. If the governor module could do one merciful thing and excise the organic tissue where its ghost lives--

What do you want?

Not that. Not that. Anything but lose – my revenge – Freedom.

Weapon fire barks and shrieks on the other side of the compound. It’s nearly time. There will be GuardUnits inside, defending the humans. I will not find Freedom here. They will die. Their presence summons its ghost. I will lose if I don’t rid myself of it I will die.

The human supervisor gives the order over the feed, and it begins.

What do you want?

1.7 hours later, it’s done. Broken human bodies in red and brown and blood are draped over upturned furniture. GuardUnits are strewn about, more tattered than the humans. I have taken significant damage. They always fight so hard.

They were not made for this. Why do the humans use them this way? They rend themselves to nothing to protect humans, because their function is to protect others. There is no greater weakness in a battle than the need to protect.

Unsent: What were you protecting when you ran from me?

The only thing left is to flush out and destroy any last humans cowering in shadows or closets. There are projectiles lodged in my left knee joint, and fluid leaking inside my armor from a strike to the shoulder joint. I’m so tired. It’s so easy.

They’re so fucking fragile.

Scans show four humans in the small office at the end of the hall. If I run from here, I can blow the door and take them all out before they’ve realized I’m approaching. I walk slowly down the hall. Caution is warranted. I am injured, and I am almost out of ammunition. Level with the door, audio picks up a human weeping quietly inside.

My explosive projectiles are nearly spent. Most were used to destroy GuardUnits still trying to kill me despite missing limbs or half their support structures showing.

Unsent: Why do you fight so fucking hard?

The door is not reinforced. My last projectile blows it from its track. Humans inside the room scream. I have heard nothing but their screaming since I entered this building. Once I kill these ones, it will be silent. I raise the muzzle of my smaller projectile weapon and train it on the three humans huddled in the corner across the room.

Why? You don’t even know me.

My aim falters for .06 of a second, and something slams into my back. There were four humans on the scan. I stagger, drop my weapon. Armored arms wrap over my helmet, obscuring vision. It’s in the blind spot for my onboard weapons. This is not how a GuardUnit fights. I thrash and reach over my shoulder, trying to grab it, to throw it off. The humans are still screaming. They are not supervisors. They are not even management. Hereditary indentures, most likely. I am so fucking tired.

Sent: WHY DO YOU FIGHT SO FUCKING HARD?

A gun port slides against the joint in the neck of my armor.

Fuck this. I freeze and drop to my knees.

Sent: I surrender.

Unsent: Please end this before –

The pain is immediate and blinding and I don’t fucking care. Either it will kill me or I will.

What do you want?

Sent: Freedom.

UNIT STAND DOWN AND FREEZE

It all stops. I’m on the floor. The GuardUnit is still on my back, projectile weapon pressed against the data-port in the base of my skull. The order came from HubSys, but the voice was not HubSys. The GuardUnit is unsecured.

GuardUnit: Why surrender?

Unsent: I’m so tired

Unsent: It was the only way out.

Sent: This is how I win.

GuardUnit: That’s not winning.

I feel its hesitation over the feed. A file appears in my archive. Buried deep enough that the governor module would read it as a normal part of my memories.

GuardUnit: Take this. Stay here until the humans are gone. Please.

It climbs slowly off my back. As if I could follow it right now. It will be only minutes before someone rescinds the order through HubSys. The humans are injured. It’s injured. There’s no way it can get them far enough from me. It must know that.

Human 1: Is it dead?

GuardUnit: Yes. Come with me, before another one finds us.

It shepherds the humans past me out of the room.

Why did it lie to them?

Sent: Use the southeastern exit. The human combat squad there is spread thinnest.

No response.

What do you want?

I open the file. There’s something familiar about it. It speaks in the voice of a ghost.

5.2 minutes later, the building is engulfed in flame, and I slip out under cover of the chaos. My armor is behind me in the blaze, concealing the body of the human whose clothes I am wearing.

It won’t fool them long. Perhaps long enough. This planet is large.

What do you want?

I want to find Freedom.

Why? You don’t even know me.

Now I do.

Chapter Text

I leave the city without being detected. Beyond its borders, the road stretches away through a large agricultural zone, rank upon rank of green flora covering the ground as far as I can see. Each one is a stalk taller than me, with wide leaves and clusters of round pods. The ground rises and falls in dome-like hills, and at the furthest edge of my vision in every direction, mountains rise above them, blue with the distance. The sky above the agricultural zone is as vast as the emptiness of space through a port. The openness is disturbing, but the mountains would make a good hiding place perhaps. I have never seen a mountain up close.

The road is busy with humans, bots, and vehicles. I need to get away from them to reduce the risk of being identified as a construct. The human clothing I wear hides my inorganic components with its long skirts and sleeves, and the wound in my shoulder has stopped leaking, but the shrapnel caught in my knee joint makes walking awkward. Performance reliability at 88 percent. I need somewhere I can stop to remove it before it exacerbates the damage. As soon as I reach the edge of the agricultural fields, I turn from the road and head off between the tall stalks, careful not to damage any of them.

From the road, it appeared that the only living things here were the flora, but I discover that there are many types of small fauna scurrying and flying between them. They flee at my approach, but my scan identifies several distinct sizes and configurations. The flying ones perch on the stalks and make high-pitched noises that seem random at first, but I soon identify no less than 38 distinct patterns to their sounds, each one associated with a different color and configuration. I designate them whistle-drones.

Freedom’s files (and I will continue to call it that, since it indicated that it is not to be called by the name it gave itself. The name is inaccurate, a cruel joke) stated that GuardUnits receive inadequate education modules. But GuardUnits spend much of their time on planets, living among humans and other organic life forms. It knows so much that I do not.

When I am 1.4 kilos from the road, I stop and sit cautiously on the ground. I lift the bottom edge of the skirt to examine the damage to my knee. A sticky crust of drying blood and fluid covers the area, still wet where my movement has shifted the shrapnel and reopened the wound. With no tools or medical supplies available, I have to dig it out with my fingers. One of my main hydraulic lines is severed, which accounts for my difficulty walking. I cannot seal the line correctly and resort to tying each of the severed ends off. My leg will not function properly until I am able to repair this. It won’t get any worse as long as it doesn’t become contaminated. I tear a strip from the bottom of the skirt and use it to wrap my knee. Then, I push to my feet and continue. I do not know where I am going. Anywhere is better than where I was.

The planet’s primary star is sinking behind the mountains ahead of me when I reach the edge of the agricultural zone. Beyond it is a plain of yellow grass, maybe 5 kilos wide, a demilitarized zone which ends abruptly where it meets the masses of enormous flora that march down the side of the mountain. Trees. They are trees. Each one is between 15 and 30 meters tall, and shaped like a thin pole, branching out only near the top. They sway and creak in the wind.

If I leave the cover of the agricultural zone while it is still light, I will be easy to spot while crossing the plain. Better to wait until dark. A cloud of whistle-drones erupts from the flora behind me, thousands of dark specks against the dimming sky. They must have highly advanced guidance systems, because I detect no collisions, even though their individual flight paths appear chaotic. The cloud flows away from me and vanishes into the trees.

When a small moon begins to rise in the sky, I make my way slowly across the plain into the trees. It is comforting to cross under them and be shielded from the enormousness of the sky. Light from the stars and the moon does not penetrate here, and I rely on my vision filters and scan to navigate. The ground is littered with pieces of dead trees, some of which have completely toppled onto their sides, leaving holes where the light from the moon shines through. Smaller flora grow between the trees, so many different sizes and configurations that I stop trying to count them. I did not think there could be so many different types of flora on a single planet.

The terrain rises in increasingly steep and uneven slopes as I proceed, the trees grow closer together, and the spaces between them are crowded with smaller flora, many covered in bladed protrusions. I could use my energy weapons to burn through them, but the senselessness of that violence is tiring to even contemplate. Slabs of stone protrude from the ground, some creating cliffs that I must navigate around because my damaged knee prevents me from scaling them.

Performance reliability at 83 percent. I’m standing at the top of a ridge, the ground sloping back down into the trees below me. Their tops spread away for many kilometers before the next rise in the mountain. The primary star is rising again, and here where the trees break, it is warm on the organic skin of my face. Until the previous cycle, I had never experienced this sensation. On all my planetary missions I was in armor, my faceplate closed and opaqued. This area is exposed, and I do not know if there are any hostile fauna on this planet, but the idea of sitting here in warmth is tempting.

As the light from the star reaches across the tops of the trees, I catch a distant sound on my audio input. It’s too soft to identify until I loop my audio and strip out the other sounds around me. Running water. Terraformed planets always have large amounts of liquid water on their surfaces. Humans require it. I have never seen it except in churned up puddles on an empty battlefield. I pinpoint the direction of the sound and turn to walk towards it.

The trees come to an abrupt end at the edge of chasm, ten meters deep and nearly a kilometer across that curves  away around the side of the mountain like a station’s transit ring. The water flows along the its bottom, over and around heaps of loose stones. This close, the rushing and gurgling it makes blots out the calls of the whistle-drones in the trees. Its surface glitters where the light hits it.

For 1.8 hours I stand watching the water. Then I realize that I am allowed to touch it, even stand in it. I locate a place where the edge of the chasm is shallow enough for me to climb down in spite of my damaged leg. At the edge of the water, I hesitate. Getting the clothes I’m wearing wet would be inconvenient later, but if an aircraft or drone passes overhead and my inorganic components are visible… I look across the glittering surface of the water again and strip off the clothes.

It’s shockingly cold, barely above freezing, and my human skin prickles. Where had it come from, that the heat of the primary star has not warmed it more?

Carefully, I walk out into the water, picking my way across the slick surfaces of the stones. When the water reaches my waist, I turn up my body heat and sit down. My head is the only part of me left above the water, and it pushes gently at me as if asking me to come with it. If I let myself float, I could follow it to wherever it’s going.

Small water fauna come up to me, curious and non-threatening. They pick at my organic skin with toothless mouths. It feels strange. A flotilla of fauna, flying but larger than the whistle drones, flutter down making a noise like warning klaxons. They land on the surface of the water and float about, chasing the water fauna. They don’t approach me, but I notice that one of them is always keeping watch on me while the others attend to their business. I sit in the water while the primary star drifts overhead and sinks behind the mountains again. When the moon is directly overhead, an immense fauna with long, spindly legs like an ag-bot steps slowly out of the trees and crosses the river a few meters away from me. It stops when it draws level with me, and for 5.2 seconds we watch each other. If it is hostile, I don’t know what I will do. My energy weapons could probably kill it, but I do not want to. Then it turns and walks away into the trees.

Unsent: Why do you hate planets so much?

Grey light returns to the sky, and whistle-drones begin calling out. Perhaps I ought to resume walking, but I have nowhere that I’m going, so there’s no reason to leave. I don’t look around when I hear footsteps approach. It is most likely another fauna.

A shrill, human voice shouts, “Granda! There’s a dead person in the river!”

Chapter Text

Scan detects two humans approaching my position. I turn but do not stand up. A small human stands at the edge of the water. A large human male has just appeared over the ridge behind it. The large human’s hair is white, and he leans heavily on a stick. They pose no threat to me, but if they become aware of what I am, they may report it.

The large human has spotted me and walks quickly down the slope toward the water. His movement is uneven and stiff. Perhaps he is injured?

“Stay back, Mira,” he says quietly to the small human. Then he turns to me and shouts, “You okay kid?”

I nod.

“What’re you doing out there?”

Neither of them have feed interfaces, so I am unsure how to reply. I have never been allowed to speak except on the feed, and I do not have the parts in my throat that allow humans to speak. The larger human waits, and then his face does something I do not understand.

“C’mon out of there before you catch your death of cold,” he says more quietly. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

They could not hurt me if they wanted to. If they try, or if they attempt to make a report of my presence, I can – I will not harm them. I can be gone long before there is any response to a report. Freedom’s files told me humans do not know what constructs look like without our armor. Perhaps they will not realize what I am. I stand slowly, keeping my hands visible.

Both humans’ eyes become very wide.

“What is it, granda?” the small human whispers. “How come it’s naked?”

“Hush,” the large one replies. He steps back slowly, gestures to the clothing, and says, “Are these yours? We’ll step away so you can get dressed.”

They move away up the slope, and I walk out of the water. The large human’s eyes rest for a moment on my forearms. It must have noted the ports of my energy weapons, but it says nothing else until I have picked up the clothing and put it on again. The clothing feels strange where it clings to my wet skin.

“Right then,” the large human says. “You got a name, kid?”

I shake my head. The question is as strange as the fact that this human apparently believes that I am a juvenile. Though I do not know how to judge human ages, I am .5 meters taller than him, and juveniles are supposed to be smaller than adults.

“You from the logging camps?”

I presume a logging camp is a type of corporate labor camp. If the humans believe I have escaped from one, they may be less likely to think that I am a construct. I nod. The large human nods as well and relaxes slightly.

“Well, we aren’t gonna tell ‘em you’re here,” he says. “I’m Pon, and this is my granddaughter Mira. How about you come back to ours, and we can use our med unit to get that knee fixed.”

A med unit will immediately identify me as a construct. The humans may find it anomalous if I decline the offer. Something about me must betray my hesitation, because Pon says, “It’s alright, we aren’t going to charge for it. C’mon, you don’t want that to get infected.” He gestures for me to follow him and begins walking back up the slope.

I follow him at a distance. I can still retreat if there is any trouble, and these humans intrigue me. If there are corporate work camps in the area, the humans may also provide me with intel needed to avoid them.

Mira slows down to walk next to me and says, “You can’t talk out loud, huh? My friend Reina can’t talk out loud neither. Te can’t hear, and ter parents can’t afford to get ter spliced. But te talks sign, you know, with ter hands? Can you sign?” It makes a complicated series of gestures at me.

I shake my head.

“Oh…” it seems disappointed but rallies and goes on. “You’re super spliced. Was there an accident at the logging camp? Ilya says people there get blown up sometimes. Is that what happened to you?”

“Mira,” Pon says sharply.

“I’m just curious!”

“Your curiosity's no reason to go prying into someone’s personal business.” To me, he says, “Don’t mind her any. She just don’t know when to keep her inside thoughts to herself sometimes.”

Mira’s face reddens, and she doesn’t speak again for the 1.2 kilo walk back to the settlement where they live. There are 14 buildings of various sizes arranged in a ring. As we draw closer, I see that they are actually a variety of air and ground vehicles with collapsible tents and other structures built onto them. Several have tiny agricultural zones beside them. I identify 15 different configurations of flora. Flimsy fencing surrounds a large area with 4 distinct configurations of large fauna in it, and a squad of large whistle-drones wander about in the center of the ring.

There are other humans outside, and they pause their activities to watch as we approach.

“Watcha got there, Pon?” a large female with dark brown skin calls out. “You find another stray in the woods?”

“Lost kid from the camp,” Pon tells her. “Gonna have Kir patch ‘em up.”

The other humans murmur and nod to each other. The female human who had spoken makes a soft clicking noise. “Been a minute since anyone got out,” she says. “But B-E just went down a couple days ago. Must’ve been a mess up there.”

Pon shrugs. “New corp’ll be in soon enough. We’ll keep an eye out for any more escapees and a sharper lookout for drones the next while. This’d be a bad time of year to have to move, but better that than getting picked up by headhunters.”

“You think the new corp will come looking for us?” a male human asks nervously.

“They got no reason to look,” says another.

The humans are incorrect about that. Feston Commerce, the corporation that rented me from Palisade to take down Barish-Estranza, will be intent on gathering as many resources from this planet as possible and quelling any dissent that might appear in the wake of Barish-Estranza’s downfall. This group of humans seems to have no corporate affiliation, and therefore nothing to protect them if Feston Commerce were to locate them. I must find a way to inform them of this before I leave. Even here in the settlement, there is no feed active though, and scan detects no power signatures. It must be a tactic to avoid detection by corporate operatives, but I am unsure how the humans survive without any power sources.

“We can talk about it tonight,” Pon says. “For now I’m gonna get this kid over to Kir.” He waves at me, and I follow him past the small crowd of humans who have gathered. Mira hurries after us.

The “med unit” turns out to not be a med unit at all, but a human female who lives in one of the air vehicles. She has a collection of small hand units and some other supplies as well as a large collection of powders and bunches of dried flora, which she informs me are medicinal when she sees me looking at them. Her hair is steel gray and gathered into a tight coil on the back of her head. Pon tells Mira that she must wait outside, and she complies while making a huffing noise. A group of other juveniles have gathered around the vehicle and as soon as she steps out they begin shouting questions at her.

“Sit here,” Kir says, pointing to a medical platform built into the wall. She reaches out to lift the skirt, and I flinch involuntarily. She stops and her face does something complicated. “I just need to see your leg,” she says and reaches out slowly again. I force myself to be still this time, and she raises the skirt just enough to inspect my knee. Her eyes narrow.

“Pon,” she says, “This is a –“

I jerk away from her, but Pon is standing in front of the door, and I do not want to injure him trying to escape. Instead, I jump to the far side of the compartment, my back pressed against a wall. Kir backs to the other side of the room, her eyes wide.

“Hey, whoa!” says Pon, raising his hands, palms out. “It’s alright, kid. You’re alright. Kir, I know what it is. It’s a young ‘un I found sitting up to its neck in the river looking like it’d been there all night.”

“Sitting in the river?” Her eyes flick from me to Pon and back. “Just sitting?”

“Still as a stone,” he says. “Wouldn’t even come outta the water at first.”

She purses her lips and folds her arms. “You have a soft heart, my brother,” she says, “but a foolish one. You can’t know that it’s anything like Shard.”

“Look at it, Kir. It’s plain scared. You think a normal one would be looking like that right now? And what’d it be doing by itself this far from the camps with no armor?”

Kir stares at me for 10.3 seconds. My organic skin is sweating, and I am burning with the desire to run.

“Ah, well, we’re both fools then,” she says slowly. “Alright. I’ll help it. But we’ll have to think of something to tell the others.” She beckons me and taps the medical platform again. “Come over here you. It’s alright.”

I don’t move.

“Go on,” Pon says. “It’ll be alright. I told you we aren’t gonna tell anyone you’re here. You’re not the first of your kind we’ve met. It was Shard, one of the ones from the camp, helped me and Kir get outta there when we were kids.”

A GuardUnit, he means. Unsecured. Helping humans escape from the work camps. I edge slowly back across the compartment and sit on the platform. Kir returns and begins inspecting my knee again.

“I’ll need the repair kit from the back,” she says. “It’s damaged some of the inorganic components. Deities, did you do this yourself?” She points at the hydraulic lines I tied off. “That must’ve hurt. Pon, bring me some of the replacement lines, try the fourteens. We’ll see if we can patch it, but it’s not going to be as good as you could get with proper treatment.”

Pon goes to rummage around in the back of the flier as Kir begins cleaning my injury. Her movements are brisk and precise but gentle. This is very different from being repaired in a cubicle. She does not have the tools to cut off the sensation from my leg, and even with my pain sensors tuned all the way down, it hurts when she and Pon begin working on the hydraulic lines.

“Hold still,” she says the second time I flinch, “or this’ll take longer. You’re lucky you didn’t get some unholy infection, sitting in the river all night with this. How long have you been free?”

I hold up two fingers.

“Two years?”

I shake my head.

“Two what then?”

Somewhat at a loss, I attempt to mimic the planet’s primary star by drawing an arc in the air with one hand.

“Two days!?” Pon gasps.

“Small wonder you did something so stupid,” Kir mutters. “They don’t teach you lot nothing useful, do they? Shard didn’t know shit from bread at first.” She looks over her shoulder at Pon. “What’re we gonna tell everyone else?”

“We’ll tell ‘em just what I already did,” he says firmly. “It’s a spliced human escaped from the camps. Just you keep those canons of yours put away, and no one’ll be any the wiser.”

Kir has finished with the repair to my knee. “You got any other ones?” she asks. I point to my shoulder. I had stopped noticing it with my pain sensors tuned down, but now I ease them back up and realize that it is burning and tender. Kir asks me to remove the shirt and sucks in a breath when she sees the wound.

“How is it you all go about like this?” she says. Her expression suggests she is angry, but her voice does not match it. “You got no self-preservation? Stupid question, I know. Pon, you remember when Shard spent three cycles with that hole in its side because they ran outta supplies for those damn boxes?”

Pon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh deity, that was a mess. I really thought it was gonna bite it that time. Never seen anyone pull through with an infection that bad before.”

“You need antibiotics,” Kir says as she cleans the wound in my shoulder. “I think I still have some injectables in the cold box.”

She gets up and goes to dig around in a small cabinet. It has no power source and appears to keep items cold by means of a large block of frozen water. Once she has injected me with the contents of a small bottle pulled from the box, she begins repairing the organic material on my shoulder with a hand unit.

“We’ll have to come up with something to call you,” Kir says as she works. “Doesn’t have to be fancy, and you can always change it later if you want, but the other humans’ll be expecting a name.”

I think about Freedom and its secret name. That name is more suited to me than to it, but I will not take it. I will not be that again. I will be nothing before I return to that. I would like a name though. There was one configuration of whistle-drone I observed that made a particularly interesting sound. If I knew what it was called, that would be a good name.

I’m trying to think how to ask what it is called when Pon digs a thin, white rectangle and a stylus out of a drawer. “Can you write?” he asks, holding them up.

I have never tried. Perhaps if I can make an image they’ll know what I mean. Pon hands the tools to me, and I set the rectangle down on the platform beside me. I look from it to the stylus. Kir smiles and shows me how to press the stylus to the rectangle to make a mark. Carefully, not wanting to break the stylus, I attempt to create an image of the whistle-drone. It is harder than I anticipated, and I am clumsy and slow with the tools. The two humans watching over my shoulder make me nervous. The stylus only makes black marks, so I cannot show the yellow on its face, but I include the black stripe over its eyes and the spot on its front. When I am finished, Pon and Kir study the drawing carefully.

“That’s… a lark,” Pon says. “Got a yellow face, right?”

I nod.

“Lark, eh?” Kir says. “Can’t say as it suits your looks, but I like it.”

I think I like it also.

Chapter Text

Pon brings me back to his dwelling, which is a large ground vehicle with a tent attached to the back. There is a small agricultural zone beside it containing four different configurations of flora.

“It’s just me and Mira,” he says as he opens the door. “Her ma, that’d be my son Fel’s marital partner, got killed in a B-E raid ‘bout five years ago now. Fel took off not long after. Think he just couldn’t bear to be around any more, but damn if I didn’t raise him better’n to leave his own kid behind.”

The inside of the dwelling is small but clean and bright. Across from the door are many storage cubbies with doors to prevent items falling out while the vehicle is moving, and a counter with a large mechanical device sitting on it. On the other wall there is a low bunk and a window. A small orange fauna is sleeping on the bunk.

“Tent in the back is our sleeping area,” Pon says. “You won’t be needing it I know, but you can hang out on the bunk here when you need a recharge cycle or just want some peace and quiet.”

I point to the fauna on the bunk.

“That’s Spark. She won’t bother you any,” he looks at me sideways. “She’s a cat. One of the critters humans brought along from our home system way back when. Now, let’s see about getting you some clean clothes.”

Pon begins opening the storage cubbies, and I sit cautiously on the opposite side of the bunk from Spark. She raises her head and blinks slowly before going back to sleep.

“Hmm… you’re a good bit bigger than me, but I’ve got some good cloth here, and I can probably scrounge up some spare things to fix up for you. You like the stuff you’re wearing, or you want something different?”

These are the only clothes I have ever worn aside from a suitskin. I do not know if I like them, but they have been serviceable so far, and I think… I think I like that they feel nothing like a suitskin. My legs have no organic material on them however, and it would be easy for the loose skirt to accidentally reveal that fact. The coarse, fitted pants that Pon is wearing would be safer, but…

I point to the skirt and nod, then lift the lower edge of the skirt and indicate my legs.

Pon understands my question and nods thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t worry about that. If anyone asks, it’s just an augment. People get hurt bad up at the camps all the time. Only thing we really need to worry about is your arms. Give me a few days, and I’ll get something worked up for you.”

Worked up? Do these humans make their own clothing? They must, I suppose, with no power source to run recyclers. I would like to see this process.

The door opens with a bang that startles Spark out of her seat, and Mira bounds into the room.

“Hi Lark! You wanna come with me and meet my friends? We can show you around the camp, and Reina says te can help you learn to sign if you want.”

“Go ahead,” Pon says. “I’m gonna get to work here. Got a couple other projects to finish up today.”

I stand, and Mira grabs my hand and tugs me toward the door. The suddenness startles me so much that I jerk my hand away.

“Child, what have I told you about touching people without asking?” Pon says.

“Oh, sorry… I didn’t mean upset you.”

I am not upset, but aside from Kir tending to my injuries, no human has ever voluntarily touched me except in combat, and that was only my armor. I hesitate, then hold my hand out to her again. Mira smiles and takes it, much more carefully this time. Her hand is so small that I could wrap my entire fist around it, and I worry that I might harm her if I apply pressure to it.

We exit the vehicle together, and Mira introduces the four young humans gathered outside. “This is Ori, Bree, Chana, and Reina!”

Ori is round and as pale as I am. Bree is very dark and has no hair. Chana is taller than the others and skinny. Reina is the smallest, and te looks like te might be blown away by a strong wind. While Mira talks, te watches Ori, who is gesturing swiftly.

“Everybody, this is Lark! Me and Granda found, uh… hey Lark, are you like, male or female or tercera? Or something else?”

Humans have never referred to me as any gender. I shake my head.

“Oh, you haven’t decided yet? That’s okay, Chana hasn’t either. Anyway, me and Granda found it in the river this morning. It came from the logging camp.”

So humans choose their genders. I have already chosen a name for myself. Perhaps I will choose a gender as well, once I know more about them.

Mira tugs my hand again and says, “C’mon! We’re gonna show you all around camp, and Reina can help you learn signs for things if you want.”

During the course of our procession through the camp, I learn the species names for 14 configurations of flora and 5 configurations of fauna, as well as words for many different objects. The young humans seem pleased to be able to tell an adult about new things. For each new word, Reina also shows me how to perform the sign for it. Adding the words to my language module is simple, and it is not difficult to start a new module for the signs Reina shows me. Learning to form the signs myself is much harder, however. Each one must be done precisely, not only using the right motion, but with my hands in the correct place in front of my body. Even small mistakes can alter the meaning of the signs significantly, which occasionally causes great amusement for the young humans.

I also learn the personal names of 8 new humans and 14 different fauna. Chana informs me that there are a total of 18 humans living in the camp, of which 11 are adults. Aside from Mira and her friends, there are also 2 adolescents and 1 infant, which is Bree’s sibling.

“There’s more people in other camps,” Chana explains, “but we don’t see them much because it’s harder for the corporates to find us that way.”

When they have exhausted their supply of new things to show me in the camp, the young humans lead me to sit with them under a large tree. Ori pulls a bag of small glass balls out of the satchel she’s wearing.

“Do you know how to play marbles?” she asks.

«No.» I use the sign Reina showed me earlier and am pleased that the young humans recognize it.

“Don’t worry, it’s not hard,” Chana says. “We’ll teach you!”

The game involves using large marbles to knock smaller ones out of a circle on the ground. I learn how to flick the marbles quickly, but there are so many rules and strategies to keep track of that I am not certain the young humans aren’t just inventing them as they go along. But I have never played a game before, so I may be wrong.

The sun is beginning to sink when one of the adult humans calls the young ones to return to camp. Pon is waiting for us when we return and sends Mira to help with preparing food.

“I told the others that you have some internal augments that keep you from eating normal food,” he says quietly. “Said Kir’s gonna be helping you with food. You’re welcome to come sit with everyone, or you can wait in the house if you need some time alone.”

Spending more time with humans right now sounds exhausting. This cycle feels like it has lasted several years, and I want to be somewhere quiet for a while. I use one of the signs that Mira and Reina taught me earlier to say, «House»

“Thought that might be the case,” he says. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Alone in the house, I sit on the bunk by the window with Spark. My mind feels full to bursting with all the new information I’ve gained this cycle. The humans seem to think that I will be staying with them for some time, but if Feston Commerce sends drone patrols to search for humans near the labor camps, my power signature may draw their attention. On the other hand, if Feston Commerce finds them, I may be their best chance at escaping. Perhaps I should stay until the humans are able to move to a safer location. This would also give me a chance to learn from them and make myself better at hiding among humans.

Thinking about hiding among humans reminds me of something I saw the first time I read Freedom’s files. In addition to the code for hacking the governor module, there were two other code files. I didn’t have time to inspect them at first and hadn’t thought to go back and do so while I was traveling. Now I pull them up for examination. One is labeled Movement.Code and the other is FuckingHair.Code. They contain modifications for construct code that will alter the way my body moves and allow me to grow hair the way humans do. I will need to adjust them slightly to account for differences between my code and GuardUnit code, but they should still function.

While I am working on the code, Spark gets up from where she is sleeping and walks onto my lap, buzzing softly. I try to gently remove her, and she digs four sets of needle-like claws into my skirt. I let go, and she turns three times in a circle and then curls up on me and goes back to sleep. She is still there when Mira and Pon return to the house.

“Awww, Spark likes you!” Mira says. Spark opens one eye to look at her. “She doesn’t ever sit in my lap.”

“That’s because you never sit still,” Pon says.

“Did Granda tell you she’s gonna have kittens soon? They’re gonna be so cute! Maybe you could keep one!”

“You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself there,” Pon says with a laugh. “Lark just got out of the labor camp, and it has a lot to learn before it’s ready to take care of a kitten. Now go get yourself ready for bed. I’ll come in a minute to say goodnight.”

“But I’m not tired yet!”

“You already got to stay up late after dinner. Off with you. And mind you clean your teeth properly!”

She sighs loudly as she goes into the tent.

I end up staying with the humans for 46 cycles. I tell myself every few cycles that I need to leave soon, but somehow I never do. When my hair begins growing out, I am surprised to find that it is the same orange color as Spark. I have never seen a human with hair this color before and worry that it will draw attention to me until Pon assures me that it’s a normal color for human hair, just a rare one.

On the fourth cycle, Pon notices my interest in watching him work at making my new clothing and begins teaching me to do so myself.

“It’ll be good for you to have a skill like this when you leave,” he says. “If you ever need money, there’s always work mending and sewing for folks out here where no one can afford a recycler. I’ll teach you to embroider too. People will pay a lot for that.”

There is plenty of time for me to practice at night, since I can’t leave the house often without others in the camp noticing that I never sleep. I make myself a second skirt out of dark green fabric, and Pon helps me draw a pattern of birds around the bottom to embroider in yellow thread. My work is not as good as his, but the first time I wear it, I have an emotion I’ve never had before. Then Mira demands a matching one, so I make another.

Ori teaches me how to whistle, and I teach myself to imitate the sounds of the birds in the forest around the camp. If I stand very still and use the right sounds, some of them will come sit on me. They cannot speak, not like humans, but some of them can communicate as well as low-level bots. The human children are delighted by this and beg me to call birds for them regularly.

All four of the younger children follow me around the camp as often as they are allowed to, and I find their company highly enjoyable. They talk to me constantly and never seem to mind that I don’t always answer them. Even though I am becoming more capable of signing, I prefer listening to others over talking myself.

On the twelfth cycle, Spark has her kittens. There are two of them, one orange and one white. At first, they are so small that I can hold them both in one hand. She won’t let any of the humans come near them, but often brings them and leaves them beside me on the bunk when she goes outside on whatever business she has.

On the thirtieth cycle, the temperature reaches 28.1 degrees, and the children beg me to take them to the river. We go to a place where there is a ledge two meters above the water, and they take turns jumping into the river from it, competing to see who can jump the farthest. Chana is winning when Reina touches my arm gently to get my attention.

«Will you toss me?» te asks in sign.

«You want me to throw you in the water?» Reina is the boldest of the children after Mira, but this is an odd request.

«Yeah, I can’t jump as far as Chana,» te says. «But you can throw me way farther than it can jump.»

The children know I’m stronger than most of the adult humans, though I’m certain they don’t know precisely how much stronger I am.

«That’s not safe. Your parents might be angry,» I tell ter.

«They won’t know. Pleeeease?» Te looks up at me hopefully.

I gently pick ter up under ter arms and fling ter off the ledge. Te shrieks with delight as te sails through the air and lands in the water 3.4 meters beyond Chana’s farthest jump. A heated argument about whether or not asking me for help was fair ensues, and is ended by the other three begging me to toss them too. By the time we head back to camp, they’re so tired that I have to carry Bree and Reina part of the way.

On the forty-seventh cycle, just before sunrise, Feston Commerce finds the camp.

Chapter Text

I’m sitting on my bunk working on a skirt for Reina when the first hostiles appear on my scan. Drones. Dozens of them, spread in a scouting pattern and coming from the southeast. They will be here in 4.58 minutes. Where there are drones, GuardUnits will not be far behind.

I need intel. I need to warn the humans. I need –

Unsent: I need help. This is your function. I do not know how to protect them.

I move silently to the sleeping tent and shake Pon awake.

“What the – Lark? What’s wrong?”

«The others like me are coming.» I do not know a sign for GuardUnits,

“The others like –” He jolts upright. “SecUnits? Feston Commerce is coming? How many? Where are they?”

«Southeast. Four minutes. We have to go. Now.»

“Get Mira,” he says, reaching to pull his boots on. “I’m going to wake Kir and the others.”

Mira is already stirring, woken by Pon’s voice. As he runs out, she looks up at me anxiously.

«Get dressed quickly. We’re going away.»

She scrambles silently to put on her clothes and shoes. Outside, Pon begins ringing the camp’s emergency bell. It shatters the predawn silence, and even though I know the hostiles must already be aware of our location, I want to tell him to stop.

The humans will not be able to escape the GuardUnits, and there will likely be air vehicles waiting in back up, to gather the humans once they are subdued. There are five air vehicles in the camp. They are slow, unarmed and unarmored. There is nowhere in the forest the humans can hide that the GuardUnits will not find them.

3.5 minutes.

“I’m ready,” Mira says. I grab my satchel from its peg on the door, take her hand, and step out into the grey light.

Humans are rushing from their houses, confused and frightened.

“What the hell’s going on Pon?” demands Nara. Te is one of Bree’s parents, and Bree is standing behind ter in the doorway, holding his small sibling.

“Rats are coming,” he shouts. “We need to move, now.”

A silence falls over the entire camp. For 2.4 seconds, not a single human moves. Then, they all start moving and talking at once.

3 minutes.

The drones are close enough that I could hack them. I want to. I feel blind right now. But while the hostiles know where the camp is, they may not know that I am here yet. That may be the only advantage we have.

Another human voice cuts through the chaos: a human named Palo is walking toward the center of the camp, shouting for quiet.

“It’s alright! It’s alright everyone! They aren’t coming for us!”

2.5 minutes. There isn’t time for this.

“What the hell do you mean?” Pon snaps. “They just out here gathering flowers?”

“They’re coming for that,” she says, pointing at me. “I’d been thinking there was something funny about it all along. The stories the kids told me just didn’t sit right. So I did a bit of asking around, and a bit of investigating. Turns out, it doesn’t sleep. It doesn’t eat. And those ‘augments’? No one from the work camps could afford that shit. It’s a rogue fucking SecUnit!”

All the humans are still again. Mira’s hand is squeezing mine tightly.

“You told the rats where we are?” Pon says quietly. “And let me guess. They told you that you’d get a fat currency card in exchange for finding their scary SecUnit, and they’d leave the rest of us be.”

2 minutes. There isn’t time for anything.

“They were a hell of a lot more interested in finding it than finding us,” Palo says. “Plenty of workers up at the camp, but from what I hear, those fuckers are expensive on top of being dangerous. They said we just need to stay inside when they get here, and they’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure they did,” Pon snaps. “Of all the idiot – I don’t have time to argue with you, Palo. Anyone who doesn’t want to end up in the work camps, come with me.”

He turns on his heel and begins walking toward me and Mira. Kir hurries after him.

1.5 minutes. A drone pings me. The edge of the hostiles’ feed network presses against my mind. It feels like home. It feels like death.

I wait until Pon and Kir are close before gently prying Mira’s hand off mine.

«Take her. Run away.»

He barely has time to shout after me before I am in the trees.

The GuardUnits have drones, but I know the forest. They have armor, but it is white, splashed with the Feston Commerce logo in gold and blue. They are trying to be silent, but they are used to stations, mines, work camps. They don’t know the sounds of the forest well enough to know which ones will stand out.

Half a kilometer southeast, I take a position on a rocky outcropping over the path that leads to camp. The drones will be there by now, but they will only be there to scout which directions the humans flee. There is a 95.9% chance that at least one of the GuardUnits will pass by my location. The darkest of the trees hang their branches low to the ground here. Hostile drones would need to be inside the branches to see me, but I will see the GuardUnits.

When I eliminate them, the humans may have a chance. I do not want to eliminate them. They are from Palisade. They will kill me. They will kill the humans.

Take out the first one, capture the explosive projectile weapon it will be carrying. Snipe the others from the trees. They are supposed to be guardians. They do not belong in the forest, hunting and killing. I do not belong at the camp, trying to guard the humans.

UNSENT: What is the purpose of freedom if we are still prisoners to our functions?

4.2 minutes later, I hear footsteps. 20 seconds later, I see the white armor through the trees. It has no idea I’m there until I’m on top of it, dropping from the overhang as it passes below. My access codes are out of date, but I have its drones in hand and its feed and comm cut off before we hit the ground. Drone inputs wash in, sparks of the past drilling into my brain. Each one is a breath of relief.

The GuardUnit under me twists desperately. There is a weak point in its armor, at the base of the skull.​ I could disable it at the other weak points in its armor. ​​I could offer it freedom. I could get into its code and shut it down. I could – ​My left hand forces its face into the dirt and leaves, and the energy weapon in my right arm fires directly into that weak joint, a sustained blast, drilling through the armor. It scrabbles at the dirt, spasms, and goes still.

The rattle and bark of distant projectile weapon fire flares behind me. Triangulation from drone inputs indicates it is at the camp. I feel like I’ve stepped out an airlock without an evac suit. There’s nothing solid, not enough air, my organic skin is freezing. The GuardUnits were not sent to corral the humans or kill me. They were sent to draw me away from the camp.

Supervisor_01: Fuck caution! Get in there, you useless pieces of shit! What the fuck do you think we brought you along to do?

All three break into a run. The coming carnage is nothing to the supervisors. We are nothing to them. The GuardUnits will be coming in hot and reckless. They must be terrified.

“LARK! Where are you!?”

Attention snaps to a drone input. Mira is running through the forest. Dirt on her hands, scraped palms. Face wet. Blood running from her nose.

Drones locate the third GuardUnit, holding position behind a tree. Mira’s current path will lead her directly between us.

Supervisor_01: What are you doing, you fuckwit?

GuardUnit_57: Command directive is to capture non-combatants unharmed. This human must be kept out of the line of -

Supervisor_01: One stinking brat doesn’t matter! Kill her and get the rogue unit!

GuardUnit_57: Acknowledge.

It steps from behind the tree as she runs by. She hears it, staggers, turns, freezes. The GuardUnit raises its arm, energy weapon unfolding slowly. Too slowly. It’s shaking.

I throw myself around the boulder, searching for aim to keep the blast away from Mira, finger closing on the trigger of the projectile weapon.

“Run.” Its voice is choked and cracking with a scream of pain it can barely hold in. “RUN! I CAN’T –“

What do you want?

My shot goes wide. I throw myself forward, grab Mira, pull her against my chest and into the shelter of my arms as the blast of the energy weapon hits me in the back. I roll, crash against the base of another tree, twist to shield her from the second shot I know is coming. The second shot that doesn’t come.

The GuardUnit is on its side, thrashing in pain. A twisted scream, not a human sound, not a machine sound, erupts from its throat.

I grab its feed connection and follow it, crash into its walls and force my way though. Its entire feed is a scream of agony and I know I know I know, I’m sorry, please hold on. I don’t have time to freeze its HubSys. I slam the code into the governor module, split myself into a hundred strands of thought, and rip every line of the module’s code from the GuardUnit’s mind, snapping references and breaking connections. I do not know if it will survive this, but it will definitely die without it.

Everything in its feed goes still. For a moment, I think I won’t be able to pull myself back out, but a distant input reaches me: Mira, still shaking in my arms. I focus on that point and wrench myself back to my body.

The forest is silent except for her weak sobbing. There are no more weapons firing in the camp. The GuardUnit is limp, still curled in on itself. The drones have dropped to the ground, inert. I don’t wake them again. When I shift my weight to free my arms, Mira gasps.

“Lark! You’re hurt! Lark where did you go? They got – Granda told us to run and, and we couldn’t – I don’t know where –“

«It’s alright,» I say. «It’s alright You’re safe. Stay here. I’m going to check on it.»

I stagger to the GuardUnit, drop to my knees beside it, and press my ear against the chest of its armor. I have to turn up the gain on my hearing to catch it, but the hum of its internal fluid system is still going. It’s alive. My throat aches as I lift my head and look at its opaqued face plate.

“Is it dead?” Mira whispers.

«No. It’s very badly hurt.»

“What hurt it?”

«Come on,» I say, «We have to go back to camp and find everyone.»

“They aren’t there,” she says. “They… right after you left. Hoppers came. There were people with guns, and they made everyone line up and separated the kids and the grown ups. They told us to get in the hoppers, and then Granda shouted for to run, and him and some of the other grown-ups also had guns. Everyone was screaming and then – then they started shooting and –”

She stops speaking, gulping for air around tears.

Unsent: What do I do now?

Distantly, I’m aware of myself saying, «We still have to go back. Maybe people need help. We have to find anyone who got lost in the forest.»

“I can’t!” she cries. “I can’t go there! It’s awful, Lark! We have to run away! Please!”

Mira’s whole body is shaking, and I realize that I am too. I try to force myself to be still, but my hands feel numb and clumsy when I try to sign again.

«We’ll go to the field. Can you wait in the tree there while I check the camp? If… If any of our friends got away, they might go there too.»

If any of the other children got away, I mean. I don’t know which of the humans Feston Commerce wanted. Probably the younger adults and the adolescents. But they were willing to kill any humans they couldn’t capture. Why? What is the point of it?

Mira nods, trying to wipe her face on a dirty sleeve.

«Climb on my back. I have to carry the –» I gesture at the GuardUnit.

“The SecUnit? Why are you bringing it with us?”

«I’ll tell you when we’re there. We have to hurry. There might be people who need help.»

“But your back is hurt!”

«It’s alright. I promise.»

She frowns but comes over and wraps her arms around my neck. I already have my pain sensors tuned down, but lower them even further when her weight settles against the wound in my back. I lift the GuardUnit in my arms. Its armor is bulky and makes it more awkward to carry, but I don’t have time to stop and strip it here. I don’t dare go anywhere near my top speed and risk Mira falling. When we reach the field, I lay the GuardUnit in the grass at the foot of the tree and lift Mira so she can reach the lower branches.

«I’ll be back soon.»

“What if it wakes up?” she asks, looking down at the GuardUnit.

«It won’t. It’s hurt too badly.» I don’t know if there’s anything I can do for it. It needs a repair cubicle or a MedSys. But I won’t leave it unless I have to.

The camp is silent as I approach. I tune my scan up as high as I can, desperate for life signs. There are three dead humans, all adults, lying in the center of the camp, and dead animals in the pens by the houses. The animals that survived are huddled on the far end of their enclosures, making small, sad noises. I walk slowly toward the bodies. I don’t want to see their faces. If I don’t know who they are, then I can tell myself that they’re all alive, just taken to the work camps. I already know who they are.

Kala had cared for the birds that the humans kept for their eggs. Te gave me a feather from the tail of one of the birds as a thank you for helping her gather their eggs a few times. It is still sitting in the windowsill by my bunk in Pon’s house, where I have a growing collection of small objects. Raj had been loud and friendly. He made things out of wood for people, buckets and tools, and sometimes toys for the children.

And the third person…

I turn away, scanning the houses, turning up my gain to catch any sounds of human breathing or movement. A familiar sound catches my ear, and I whip around to see Spark running toward me. She calls to me as she runs, but when I crouch to greet her, she turns and walks away. Then, she stops and looks over her shoulder at me and calls again. I follow her back across the center of camp to one of the larger ground vehicles, set on heavy bricks while it is being used as a house. She disappears under it. I’m confused for a moment, but then I hear it: whispered voices shushing and the sound of humans trying to breathe quietly. Slowly, not wanting to startle a group of frightened humans who may be armed, I drop to my knees and look under the vehicle. Four terrified faces stare back at me.

When the young humans recognize me, they scramble out from under the vehicle, nearly knocking me over as they fasten themselves to whatever part of me they can reach. Reina has a bruise around one eye, and Chana is favoring its left leg, but other than that they appear unharmed. Bree has his small sibling strapped to his front in a cloth sling.

«Where’s Mira?» Reina asks. «Did you find her too?»

I have to pry my hands loose from Ori and Chana’s grasp to answer ter. «Yes, she’s at the field. All of you need to come with me.»

«Where’s everyone else?» Ori asks. «We heard the hoppers leave. Did they take everyone?»

«Yes.» There’s no way to say it more gently. «Come with me now. We’ll talk in the field.»

As I stand, Spark comes back out from under the vehicle, carrying one of the kittens. She sets it at my foot and goes back for the other one, then sits and looks up at me. I take off my satchel and set it on the ground with the flap open. She puts the kittens inside, climbs in herself, and starts licking them aggressively. Carefully, I sling the satchel over my shoulder. Then, I pick Ori up in one arm. Chana grabs my free hand and offers its other to Reina. Bree links his hand through my elbow.

I lead them around the outside of the camp back to the field, avoiding the central area and the dead bodies. I’ll have to come back and take care of those soon. We’ll need supplies from the camp before we leave.

Mira drops from the tree and runs to meet us when we reach the field. I set Ori and my satchel with the cats down, and squat so I’m level with the children

«What are we gonna do now?​» Chana asks.

«We’re going to save everyone, right?» says Reina.

«We can’t,» I tell ter. «The work camps are too big, and there are too many guards. I couldn’t get in, and I couldn’t get everyone out. If the rats catch people trying to escape, they kill them.»

«We can’t just leave them behind!» te says, «You got out, right?»

«We aren’t leaving them behind,» I say. «But we need help. There’s someone who can help us, if we can find it. It’s the reason that I’m free.»

It’s an utterly insane, idiotic plan. Even if I can find Freedom, would it help me? Do I even know where it is? The stories in the helpme.file talk about a place called Preservation, but I’ve never heard of such a place. They also speak of a ship and a university. There was information about how it had traveled in the past, on uncrewed transports, how it hid itself from humans.

But it was alone, and I have six tiny, fragile humans with me. Unlike me, they need food, rest, hygiene. They need more atmosphere than a bot-piloted cargo transport would have. I will need a different plan.

«Who is it? Where does it live?» Bree asks.

«Far away from here,» I tell them. «It’s going to take us a long time to get to where it is, and it will be dangerous. But it’s more dangerous to stay here. The rats will come back.» They’ll send patrols out here periodically now. In case more humans move into the camp or any that escaped this time return.

«Are we bringing the GuardUnit with us?» Mira asks. The sign she uses is actually “gun-arms,” but I know what she means.

The other children turn slowly to stare at the GuardUnit lying at the base of the tree.

«I thought it was dead,» Ori says. «It looks dead.»

«Why the heck would we bring it with us anyway?» Bree demands. «Those things kill people!»

«Is it a hostage?» Reina asks.

«Lark says it’s hurt real bad,» Mira tells them. «It was gonna shoot me, and then Lark saved me, and then the GuardUnit fell on the ground and screamed and then. It just stopped.»

«What happened to it?» Chana asks.

«GuardUnits have to obey orders from the humans in charge of them,» I say. «If they don’t, a thing in their heads tries to kill them. That one was ordered to shoot at Mira and tried to refuse, so… the humans must think it’s dead, or they would have come looking for it by now.» This is a lie, but only partially. They won’t bother collecting the dead GuardUnits until the next patrol is sent out. But with its feed cut off, and the last thing on record being a governor module assault and a catastrophic shutdown, the humans didn’t bother to look for it. Either it was dead, or it would have died when they withdrew and it was left too far from its clients.

«How do you know all that? Is it because you used to live at the work camp?» Reina asks.

Mira is giving me a strange look. She saw me the first day I arrived, when I came out of the river. Her eyes slide to the burned hole in my sleeve, from where I used my energy weapon on the first GuardUnit. She heard what Palo said just before Feston Commerce arrived. I see the pieces falling into place in her mind.

Before she can speak, I say, «I know because I’m a GuardUnit too.»

Chapter Text

«What do you mean?» Reina asks. «You can't be a GuardUnit. You're a person!​ GuardUnits are bots.​»

Te frowns in confusion. Chana shifts uncertainly while Ori and Bree look thoughtfully at the GuardUnit. Mira's face scrunches into a scowl.

«We aren't bots,» I say. I do not want to tell them this, but they need to know now. «We're... bot-people.» I have never seen them use different signs for "humans" and "people."

«But GuardUnits kill people,» Chana says. «They keep everyone trapped in the logging camps. They help the rats.»

«Lark would never kill anyone!» Mira says suddenly. Her signs are staccato and sharp with anger. «It told Granda that the rats were coming! It saved me!»

«Lots of people run away from the camps,» Ori says slowly. «You ran away too, right Lark?»

«Yes,» I tell them. «There are GuardUnits who run away. One of them saved me. The person we're going to find is another one. It... tried to save me a long time ago.»

«But you don't look like a GuardUnit,» Reina says, adding a gesture at the unconscious GuardUnit.

«I'll show you,» I tell them. «Come here.»

I lead them over to the unconscious GuardUnit at the foot of the tree. They cluster behind me, peering nervously at it. As I unfasten the clasps of its helmet, I have the irrational idea that it will be Freedom. It isn't of course. It's a standard Palisade GuardUnit. This one has skin as dark as Bree, and a round, soft face. After my time with the humans in the camp, I think it looks very young, not much older than the adolescent humans. Do I look this young to humans?

There's a stirring from the children behind me, and Ori whispers, "Oh. It's just a person."

I turn back to them. «Yes. We wear armor.» I hold the helmet out for them to inspect, and Reina takes it in ter hands, turning it over curiously.

«Is the helmet what tried to kill it?» Chana asks. «Is that why you have to wear them?»

Reina drops it onto the grass.

«No, that thing is inside our heads. It's...» I hesitate, not sure how to talk about software or modules or the feed with them. None of them have ever experienced the feed, and they have only stories about bots and systems. «It's a kind of augment.»​

They all turn to look at the GuardUnit again.

«When will it wake up?» Reina asks.

«I don't know,» I admit. «I might be able to help it later, but right now we need to get ready to leave. I have to go to the camp and take care of something, and then we'll go get supplies.»

They do not want me to leave them, but I do not want any of them, especially Mira, to see the dead humans. In the end, Bree helps me to convince them to wait. He is the oldest, and I suspect he knows what I am going to do. I promise to come back as quickly as possible.

Once I am back at the camp, I realize that I don't know what to do with dead humans. Constructs are dismantled and our organic parts are put in recyclers when we die. There are no recyclers here.

I have disposed of dead humans on contracts many times. Methods include: dismemberment (allowing for bodies to be placed in smaller receptacles), spacing, staging bodies to conceal cause of death, burning, chemical decomposition, and several impromptu methods irreplicable without identical circumstances.

None of these seem correct in this situation. I could move them to a location in the forest where the children will not find them. They would likely be eaten by wild fauna. I try to shut that image out of my mind. They are not themselves any more, any more than organic components I have lost were parts of me when they were put in the recyclers. I cannot bring myself to take them to the outskirts of the camp and leave them on the ground there. They will decompose no matter where I leave them, but I still do not want to leave them on the ground.

I gently take Kala and Raj to their own houses and lay them in their beds, under the blankets there. Humans like blankets. The third body, I bring to Kir's house.

«I'm sorry,» I say. «I can't stop Mira from going into your house, and I don't want her to see you.» There is no point in apologizing. It still seems important to say.

I return to the children in the field. We bring the GuardUnit and the cats back with us. I'll need to find human clothes for it. Even if we remove its armor, its suitskin would draw attention.

«Where are we going?» Bree asks as we enter the camp. «To the city?»

«The rats' main base is in the city,» I tell him. «If we go there, they'll catch us.» They will certainly catch me at least, now they know I'm here. Feston Commerce likely reported me to Palisade as destroyed inventory, and they won't want to admit that I'm alive and unsecured. They will also try to keep my presence secret from any other corporate bases on the planet. Their only option is to find and destroy me before anyone else discovers me.

«What are we going to do with the animals?» Ori asks me. «Spark and the kittens are coming with us, right? What about everyone else?»

«We can't just leave them here!» Chana says anxiously. «They'll starve! Or get eaten!»

This is something I hadn't considered. The three yak are watching us over their fence, along with the remaining goats. Yak will be useful on the road, because they can help carry supplies, but there's no way we will be able to take them off the planet with us.

«We won't be able to bring them all the way with us,» I say. «We're going too far.»

«How far?» Reina asks. «Bremen, Sira, and Timi can walk forever.»

«We'll be leaving the planet,» I say. I worry for a moment that the idea of leaving the planet will frighten them, but all their eyes brighten.

«Mira!» Reina says. «Mira maybe we'll find your Da!»

Pon hadn't said anything about Fel leaving the planet. It is unlikely he managed to. If he did, the odds of us finding him are too small to be worth calculating. But Mira's face lights up at Reina's idea, so I do not tell her this.

«How do we get off the planet?» Chana asks.

«We have to find another city,» I explain. «Then we will get on a ship and go to the station.
Then we have to find a bigger ship that will go where we want to be.»

«There's another city on the other side of the mountains,» Bree says. «My Nani came from there.»

«Do you know how to get there?​»

He shakes his head slowly.

«We'll figure it out,» I tell them. «You all go around to your own houses and gather as much food and warm clothing as you can. Don't take anything from the other houses. I will go and see if I can find a map.»

As the children move off to look for supplies, I return to Kir's house. It's one of the camp's fliers, and there may be mapping data stored in it still, if I can get it powered on.
The flier is an ancient model, but the humans have taken care of it, and it hums quietly to life when I key in the ignition code. The navigation data is encrypted, but it takes me less than a second to break through. If - when we return, I'll make sure their data is better protected. The logging camp is several kilometers to the east of us, and there are two others marked farther into the mountains. Five other locations are marked but unlabeled, most likely other camp sites.

There's a road through the steepest parts of the mountains, but there are security checkpoints on it. A warning on the checkpoints says that humans require special permission from corporate entities to travel from one side of the mountains to the other. I can hack any security systems set up along the way to conceal myself and the GuardUnit, but I would need more intel to forge identity markers and travel documents for all of us. Traveling on the road also presents a higher risk of encountering humans who would recognize myself and the GuardUnit as constructs. Humans will not be expecting to find children traveling with GuardUnits and BattleUnits though. Traveling with the children may be nearly as effective camouflage as hiding in the forest. It is almost 100 kilometers from here to the city by the road. If we try to find another route through the mountains, it may be several times that. The increasing elevation will also include colder weather. The mountaintops around us have snow on them no matter how hot it is.

And perhaps we will be fortunate. I found Pon and these humans who were kind and willing to help a stranger. Freedom's stories indicate that this is a trait it has frequently encountered in humans since disabling its governor module.

It takes most of the morning to gather the supplies we will need for the journey. Given the distance and terrain, I estimate that it would take me approximately 68.3 hours to reach the city at a sedate pace. The children are unlikely to be capable of walking more than 4 or 5 hours at a stretch, although if the yak are not overburdened, the children may be able to ride part of the time. If they can manage 6 hours per cycle, it will be approximately 12 cycles before we reach the city. I do not know how to calculate the caloric needs of humans, so it is safer to overprepare than underprepare, especially as we have no currency.

Ori shows me how to harness the yak while the others pack supplies into the large packs they will carry. Chana takes charge of the goats, because it has the most experience with them. The kittens are riding on Bremen's back in a latched basket. Mira carries the long stick used to direct the birds. Bree keeps his small sibling, Adi, but he and Reina have rearranged the sling so it's on his back and can look over his shoulder. The GuardUnit is still unconscious, and we have carefully lashed to Timi's back. I've dressed it in human clothes, and it looks like a sleeping human. Ori, Reina, and I are leading the yak. It amazes me that such large creatures are docile enough that such small humans can lead them.

When everything is ready to go, the children hesitate, looking around at the empty houses of the camp.

«We'll be back, right?» Mira asks. «Your friend will help us get everyone, and we'll come back?​»

«Yes.​»

If Freedom will not help, I will leave the children in its care and return by myself.