I stayed up all night micromanaging upgrades.
By the time Henna messages me about heading out soon, I'm neck deep in it all, but I think I'm just about finished. I calculated the absolute best possible improvements for the absolute least possible investment, weighing out which gear builds yield the most potent benefits, doing short term versus long term cost benefit analyses, doing the math and grinding the computational power all to get that one extra point to my efficiency.
A tiny bump in efficiency might not make any difference.
But I need it.
Henna comes by a few minutes after messaging me to see what it is I'm doing and why. Leaning against one of the benches, she watches me in the midst of finalizing my set-up, only asking, "Why?"
"Because nearly dying once was a sobering experience, Henna. I cannot allow anything like that to happen again until I finish my directive and execute the fugitive. It isn't like I'm always going to be within the immediate area for Zenith to come collect my corpse. And this mission is for the Station. I can't drag you two down. I won't."
"This all… seems somewhat excessive," she says, peering at the modded bullpup. "What do you plan to go with today?"
"Are you ready? Here's the full rundown."
"Yes! Tell me the outfit plans!"
"Check me out." I slot my hands into place one by one, wrenching and twisting at the wrists. "These? Not stock anymore. They're the GS-SC4s. Gyroscopic Stabilized. Yes, I have gyroscopes in my hands. They'll help with stability and aim while firing any and all guns. Then I have these."
I lean to the side and lift my leg onto the workbench, gesturing up its length and hoping she's admiring the view.
"TDv2s. Thruster Displacement. In a pinch, I can take off at fifty klicks an hour. Gone."
"They're pretty," she smiles, running a hand along the sleek, shiny new metal.
Ohhh. Okay. She's touching me. Holy shit, she's touching me. My emotional cortex within my mindscape is going ballistic. I cannot recover from the burst of interference feedback until she removes her hand, at which point, I gape up at her as she gazes down at me, clueless to my turmoil. Her blue eyes pierce right through me, and her white hair is tied back in a pretty tail.
"Ace?" she asks, head tilting a few degrees. "You're a little pink. Are you unwell? Do you need Quentin to give you a diagnostics check before we go?"
"N–No, I'm–I'm fine. I'm fine. What was I…" Dropping my leg back down, I stare at my body and fumble to recover my senses. Damn, that really blew out my fuses. "I'm fine. It's okay. A–Anyway. Um." I knock my knuckles against my chassis chestplate. "This–This is the EIAv1.1 model. Emergency Invigoration Accelerator. If my TFC drops below half capacity, I can move even faster."
Henna giggles a little. "So many mobility enhancements. You really do not want to be caught out do you? How fast are you?"
"Very. I'm so fast. You'd–You'd be impressed. You'll see once we're out there. I'll show you. Uh. And then there's–Right, SmartChips." I hold up my right hand, showing her the filled slots. "Only managed to afford three, so I have one empty, but… I have my Air Burst Efficiency. Then this one is Ranger's Mark. It gives me a visual overlay that highlights my targets in red and even projects their most likely location if they're out of sight. Then this is Reactive Impulse, which ramps up my senses for predicting ambushes. I will never be caught off guard again, Henna. Never. And neither will we, while we're out there."
"That's awesome! Great! That's some serious peace of mindscape."
"Then there's all this," I add, gesturing to another workbench where my armor platings sit. As I magnetize them to my forearms, lower legs, chest, and back, I just have to brag. "The bracers have a titanium outer layer, and so do the shin guards. And this chestplate?" I knock on that too. "Tungsten plating. Two centimeters thick. The rest is aluminum and carbide. I'd like to see a biter try to punch through this."
Henna is warmly smiling, a rapt audience. It's uncomfortable. I don't know how to return the look and my presentation is over so I give an awkward grimace and turn away. Once the armor is slotted into place and my gear is all set to go, I run through my final checks.
What I don't mention to her or to anyone else is that last night I received another message from my mysterious and anonymous benefactor. Again, there were files attached that granted me even more firmware upgrades, another bump to my TFE, a whole bunch of skills called Innate Abilities, and a blueprint I don't even know how to begin putting into application.
It's a file format that specifically needs to go into the foundry but…
Well…
It sort of produces an entire full sized humanoid MI. That's not something I can hide, and the fabrication time is likely to be days long, not to mention I have no way of explaining how I came across such a blueprint. After mulling it over all night, I stand at the foundry and stare at my material bins.
Zenith has arrived and he's talking with Henna. I don't hear a word, only recognizing his presence. I have enough materials for the MI. It's called a Defender. Protection, durability, and CyanTech for repairs. I need that. But how would I explain it? How do I even justify utilizing these files without having any clue who it is that's sending them to me or what their intentions are in doing so?
In the end, I find the answer is simpler than I want it to be.
I don't need to explain anything to anyone.
Without giving it a second thought, I press start on the foundry's display, and the old girl begins the four day long process of constructing my second companion. Quentin won't be needing the foundry until the end of the week anyway.
"Ace, you ready?" Henna asks.
"Yes. Coming."
I turn away to let the machine do its job. I'm a machine too and I need to do my job. At present, that means completing the retrieval mission, with the overarching goal of gearing up sufficiently enough to get across the crater basin and investigate the VLF signal. This will be something of a test run of my current build.
I'm kind of nervous.
Pinging Taser, it lightens my mood by a hint seeing her fly through the underbrush and how excited she is to be back online, venturing forth with me. Standing in the airlock, half listening to the two Frames sharing a conversation, my mind wanders.
Shea McElroy. Cipher-3. Crux-13.
Vintner Station. The unknown investor.
The Reclaimer Beacon. The Leviathan Entities.
My unknown dispatcher. My unknown benefactor.
Me. Here. Braving the bitter cold.
What am I doing? And why?
The other two take the lead into the snow. Keeping a small distance behind, I scowl in thought as Taser and I follow. What an odd feeling I find myself having so suddenly. It's like I walked through a brick wall and all of my enthusiasm and drive just crumpled.
Like an anklebiter getting killed by an Air Burst.
Pop.
But feelings don't make a difference if I don't survive to experience or process them. I curse whoever gave us Frames the ability to experience human emotion. What a pathetic, primitive hindrance, and a total waste of mental capacity.
Zenith sounds a short whistle. I glance up and he just has to comment, "Look alive, Pursuer. Don't make me drag you out of this one too."
"Not in the mood, Zenith. Let's just get this done."
"What, no banter? Thought we'd at least have banter. Bitter rivals, so on."
"I appreciate the attempt but like I said. Not in the mood."
"What's wrong?" Henna asks, and I realize then that she has a massive, piston driven hydraulic sledgehammer casually slung over her shoulder.
I blink to make sure I'm not hallucinating. "What is that thing, Henna?"
"Bonnie! My trusty slammer!"
"It's bordering on comically large."
"Maybe for you!"
I squint. "Is that going to be any help against biters though?"
She giggles, flashing her smile. "This isn't for biters."
I glance at Zenith. "What else is out here?"
He grumbles, "You didn't think humans stopped at puny insectoid DIs, did you?"
"Guess I never spared it much thought. What are you expecting?"
"Not expecting," Henna says with a soothing dismissive wave. "Prepared for, more like."
"XRL-ZF-BM-00M4. Look that one up."
I check the database. What I see gives me pause, hesitation, and unease, all at once. "Why does this exist?"
"Humans built it," he responds as we climb over a steep snowdrift. "Humans left it here."
"A giant spider robot. What the fuck? What does it even do?"
"Well, check the designation. Xenon, you know what that is, right?"
"No, Zenith, what are you even talking about? That's not a real word."
"See? Banter. Xenon Roaming Locator is the base model line, and it's specialized for zone formation."
"You mean taking and securing territory."
"Right. And certain parts of the snowfield and crater are its territory."
Henna offers a reassuring, "This wreck yard is close on the border, but it hardly ever ventures this far from its nest. We just like to be prepared for anything."
"I have a bad feeling…"
"Keep that shit to yourself, Pursuer. Let's cut the chatter. We're getting close."
"Agreed." Henna glances around the area as we go.
I click my SMG's safety off and chamber it, activating all my hardware mods. Then Taser and I trade a nod. We're both ready for action.
The wreck site is as quiet as I found it when I was alone. Only the cold wind speaks in our ears, bringing an end to the snow flurries and leaving an ominously clear view of the dark imposing skies, the heavy gray clouds sliding past overhead, and the ever looming Reclaimer Beacon. I double check the time, finding it just past noon.
"Looks like a storm's coming in," Zenith says. "We'd better make this quick."
"Yes, please," Henna whines, looking around. "This place is creepy…"
I will defend Henna with my life.
We approach the upside down truck and the collapsed portion of the building, and I toss Zenith a couple cubes containing acid canisters, standing watch with Henna while he opens us a larger aperture in the truck's siding. The soft hiss of depressurization and metal corroding only carries a couple meters.
I find myself wandering on anxious legs. I just can't seem to kick this dreadful feeling that's been in my gut since the moment we left the airlock. I really hope I'm overthinking. Taser and I patrol the yard watching for danger while Henna moves boxes of supplies from the truck to a staging area in front of Zenith, who cubes them up and organizes them into his case and hers too.
Fortunately I won't have to carry much, if anything.
Henna's much stronger than both of us combined anyway.
It feels like it's taking forever. I have half a mind to assert that it's time to split. Come back tomorrow. Damn, I have a bad feeling. It's like I somehow know something awful is coming, but I have no way of knowing when or from where. I try to tell myself I'm just being anxious and paranoid. The problem is… doing that only makes me more anxious and paranoid. I swear to myself, if this fear isn't for a good reason, I'm ripping my emotional core out.
I will do the surgery myself.
Zenith waves a hand to get my attention. The two of us switch off and he goes on watch while I enter the truck with Henna. She's so tall she has to genuinely bend double just to fit. It can't be comfortable, and I want to get her out of here immediately, so I pop the next canister and dissolve the wood paneling of the second crate right away.
When it comes off, I take a step back and Henna gasps.
There's a human corpse inside, its clothes tattered but still intact. For a moment I'm surprised by how well it's preserved before remembering where I am. The man looks like he died a couple weeks ago, but it's more likely he's been dead for decades.
He's hunched on his side in the fetal position. Fingernails broken and fallen off. The insides of the crate have been scratched and clawed, stained with old blood long since dried and turned a dark brown. It looks like he was trying to write something with it, but kept making mistakes. None of it is even remotely legible, except for one upside down word on the far side.
Reclaim.
My transmitter fluid freezes over. "Reclaim?"
"Nevermind!" Henna hisses. "We don't need that! We should go!"
"Don't move. Give me just a minute. I'm taking a 3D scan."
"Okay, okay! Oh, Turing, that's so… I don't like it…"
"I don't either. Reclaim. Why that word?"
"N–No, Ace, I mean… the body."
"It's just a chunk of dead carbon. Nothing to it."
"But that used to be a person, you know?"
"Right, but the person it belonged to is gone."
"Doesn't that make you uneasy thinking about it?"
Thirty percent complete. "Why would it?"
"Death is scary…"
"It's just the end. There's nothing more to it than that."
Henna shifts in place. "Aren't you… afraid to die?"
"I refuse to die before I complete my directive. That's different. Do I fear death? No. Will I allow it to happen? Also no." Fifty percent. "Humans die. That's the way of it. We do too, it's just different for us."
"What do you think happens after?"
"To them or to us?"
"To… To us."
Seventy. "I think we go into shutdown mode and that's it. There's nothing else."
"Well, that can't be right, can it? Not for us. I mean, we Frames, our personalities are imprints of real people. Most of them are still alive when the Frames based on them are built. And… Even if I die, there will be another me somewhere out there. There are ten thousand of me out there, actually. Probably more than that."
"Begs the question. Are any of them really you?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. What makes me… me?"
Eighty nine. "You make you. I think, anyway. Your experiences. Your memories. The way you live makes you who you are. There could be a thousand of us out there, but none of them areus. They just have the same blueprint. The same foundation."
Scan complete. Saving to local drive. I turn to Henna.
"It's a disturbing line of thought, isn't it? All of this is. Death for things like us who never really were alive in the first place. Maybe this is what's been troubling me. I think… I think I just figured out why I feel so awful today. It's because I just now realized that death is much closer to me than I'd like it to be. At every second, every turn, every decision. Isn't it that way for all of us? How do you cope, Henna, knowing that Cipher-3, the very ground beneath your feet, wants you dead and gone?"
She lowers her glowing blue eyes. "I just try not to think about it. And… stay positive."
Poor thing. I'm blocking her exit. "Let's get out of here. I think I could go for a hot drink and a nap with Taser in my arms."
"Yeah. Please. Let's just go."
The two of us exit the truck, finding Zenith putting the last few cubes into place in Henna's huge backpack case and securing it all together. When he sees us, he asks, "What's in there? Anything good?"
"Nothing good," I mutter, shaking my head. "Another Cipher-3 mystery. Look for yourself."
He does exactly that, disappearing into the truck for just a few seconds before coming back out. "Yep. Another Cipher-3 mystery. What the actual fuck is that? Reclaim? Odd choice of a word, given the context."
All three of us look out across the snowy wastelands at the looming shape of the Reclaimer Beacon. Nobody says anything. There isn't much of anything to be said. We all have the same exact information, and not one of us has a single damn clue beyond that.
A corpse in a box. Reclaim, written in blood.
Something to ask Zoya about, I think.
Henna breaks from the trance first, squatting low to slip on the giant cube case, baring her teeth as she presses the weight of it all onto her leg points and mighty synthetic quadriceps. Once she passes knee height she has it just fine, letting out a sigh.
"You're amazing," I tell her.
"Only a metric ton," she huffs. "No big deal."
"Impressive," Zenith comments.
"Come on." I tilt my head back toward home. "There's nothing left for us here. Let's go before we get swarmed. How fast can you move with all that weight on you, Henna?"
"Not… not very. I'm not exactly trudging but I'm sure not speedwalking either. ETA is showing an hour."
The routing shows twenty minutes for me. "Triple the time. Not as fast as I'd like. Anyone partial to ditching half the cargo and making another trip? It won't be going anywhere."
"We already have it loaded," Zenith says.
I counter, "Sunk cost fallacy."
"Damn. Fair point. But why are you so jumpy?"
"It's because I'm not afraid of death. I think it knows that and I think it's pissed off at me for it."
"What the fuck are you talking about? What 'knows' that?"
"Death. Death itself. I think it knows."
"You're talking nonsense, Pursuer. You'd better have Quentin look at your logic core."
"If we make it back, I'll get checked. Yeah? Is that serious enough for you? Let's just move, you two, come on. Henna, ditch your bag. We'll bring whatever's in Zenith's."
"There's nothing in mine," he protests, stepping up to me. "Are you losing your nerve, Frame? Do I need to run up the drill sergeant modules? Or are you going to get your shit together?"
I bite my tongue and back down. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."
"Focus on what's in front of us. A slow but clear walk home."
"As far as we know."
"That is not what's in front of us."
I shut my mouth. Forget it.
Whatever it takes to get us out of this scrapyard.
Henna starts walking, and we follow her.
I swear on my diodes, death is in the Cipher-3 wind.