Even in Debt — Dreams

Third Installment

“Good work, shortsell.” J reached out to pat her worker on the head, and inflicted exactly one before Uzi flinched back in outrage. J was stirring her up.

“What did you call me?” Uzi wasn’t blushing. At all.

“Would you prefer ‘ankle‍-​biter’?”

“I didn’t bite your ankle, I frickin stabbed it! You things don’t even have ankles!” Each word was emphasized with quick chopping gestures.

J watched the theatrics with a smile.

Sensing that the protests were getting nowhere, Uzi cut herself off with a huff. “Fine, whatever works for you, headshot.”

“You… didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Still got you with the pen!”

“Technically,” J said with a wave, but even she knew she was conceding the argument. She’d be sure to win the next one. And there would definitely be a next one.

After J instructed Uzi on how to fix the relay, it was only a matter of time before the worker would see how indispensible the ex‍-​captain was‍ ‍—‍ no mattter how much the difficult drone refused to admit it. She tried to fight J on everything.

When rewiring the relay, for instance, Uzi had tore out the builtin speakers.

They were pointless, she’d claimed‍ ‍—‍ why transform an electronic signal to audio only for their transducers to transform it back, when you could just rebroadcast it on a shortwave band that every drone could pick up on? No signal loss, no wasted energy.

But the company had included it in the design for a reason‍ ‍—‍ a functional radio receiver should produce audio, that was its purpose. Why butcher that in the name of ill‍-​considered optimization?

But why keep it if it doesn’t do anything?

And so they went back and forth.

When Uzi insisted audio was simply the same signal but worse, J paused, and smirked. Wrong, provably wrong: had the worker never listened to music? And she had‍ ‍—‍ through headphones, so that no one could harass her for her taste in music.

Meaning she’d never listened to music with someone before.

Their first repair session ended with Uzi leaning against the wall beside J, in a space she’d cleared. The ex‍-​captain’s shortwave transmitter delivered a signal to their half‍-​assembled relay: an ancient recording of Brahms’s 38th opus, a sonata in E minor.

A cello scratched rumbling notes against the lowest strings then rose sharply only to sing high, descending figures, all while joined by a piano, chords bright above the strings’ darknesses, yet reflecting the same morose tonality. A beloved companion. The cello’s melodies strained as if to wring something from deep within the bass, again and again and again.

But there was a point to this. While the cello brushed against a nadir in the second octave, the landing pod softly reverberated. Low frequencies, felt as much as heard, and the notes reached into their cores.

Uzi couldn’t hide her head nodding to the music, so J didn’t hide her grin, or her hand reaching out. Uzi wouldn’t dare throw out the speakers after this demonstration. Of course, while J lost herself in the music‍ ‍—‍ and old, odd feelings stirred‍ ‍—‍ Uzi had been busy, modifying the relay’s scanner, extending it far past the standard bands JCJenson had reserved for comms. Wholly useless‍ ‍—‍ unless you wanted to recieve nonstandard transmission.

But J had let it stand. It wasn’t compromise‍ ‍—‍ Uzi no doubt wanted this to communicate with worker colonies, but J could use it to eavesdrop and triangulate. All fit within the plan.

Then the next day, while J broke composure to lick last drops of oil from her bowl, Uzi mentioned her concept of a mounted railgun arsenal. Suppressing a twitch at the image, J humored her. It was a ridiculous, unworkable idea‍ ‍—‍ blue sky thinking. The first obstacle it would trip over was power draw. The spire didn’t have another one of the miniturized power cells the worker had stolen for her railgun.

The landing pod did have a fusion reactor. Carefully shielded, it survived the crash in a state of fractionally reduced functionality. J began rattling off specifications‍ ‍—‍ only for a heat crash to strike mid conversation. Licking oil hadn’t been enough. She rebooted in seconds, but not before Uzi had seen the error for what it was.

The day after that, Uzi came back with a plan to wire the fusion reactor to a climate control system. They argued about the resource allocation‍ ‍—‍ why this bandaid solution to a problem most easily solved by killing more workers for oil? Surely even Uzi could recognize some of them as worthless. But Uzi’s resolve didn’t shake, and J’s consolation was that now, she could at least stop sweltering at night.

(Even V thanked her.)

After bestowing them with AC, Uzi’s next project was some wind‍-​up toy dog found a few days later by N. J almost refused‍ ‍—‍ it had no purpose, a waste of everyone’s time‍ ‍—‍ but the ex‍-​captain knew the tinker would work on it regardless, and less time would be wasted if J helped.

The only argument she offered was regarding how to restore its flaking paint; Uzi planned a black and red color scheme, and J thought it was obvious N would want a soft golden yellow. They still went back and forth, the smile of Uzi’s no doubt mocking J’s suggestion, and J’s own merely a symptom of suppressed, scornful laughter at how ridiculous the teen was being.

The things J put up with. Sacrifices had to be made for the mission. Enduring another evening with Uzi was worth it. For the mission.

After the wind‍-​up toy, Uzi let J watch her disassemble the inner chamber of her railgun. The tinker had an idea to rework the power cycling to reduce the cooldown. (J didn’t even know the thing had a cooldown.) But before the tinker dared risk blowing herself up again, she wanted someone to double check her math.

Problem was, the help J could offer mainly amounted to an extra pair of hands. The ex‍-​captain never admitted it, but it wasn’t just falling behind quotas that had left the pod in disrepair. She could unscrew panels and rewire connections (if they’re labeled), but without instructions, she had no direction‍ ‍—‍ and the company hadn’t given them instructions.

As J revealed her ignorance, she braced for those violet eyes to look down on her. Uzi listened, eyes widening‍ ‍—‍ and she explained the equations involved. Ohm’s Law, Kirchoff’s circuit laws, and further complexities the worker had intuited without actually learning technical names for them.

J argued involving her in this was a waste of time, and she’d be no help. Uzi ignored this, and walked the disassembly drone through each step of the calculation. In the process, Uzi stumbled into an error‍ ‍—‍ and she thanked J for helping her find it, as if the disassembly drone hadn’t been totally extraneous.

Then Uzi gave J a hug and a pat on the back‍ ‍—‍ as if J needed it. That was too much. The disassembler forced the worker to dodge a swift counterattack. In a moment of vertigo, J realized she didn’t know if this blow had enough force to damage her. Or if she wanted needed it to have that force.

Audits. What J needed was this mission to be over already‍ ‍—‍ things were progressing with Uzi, but not fast enough. She wanted to rush, to skip to end and get what she wanted already. For Uzi to look J in the eyes and trust her. For J to be her most valued, important, special drone.

Because that meant this step was accomplished satisfactorily; it was a step, an instrumental value, her sign to move.

After the railgun upgrade… that brought them to today. Uzi’s latest project was…

“Are you ready to explain what this one is, yet?” J asked.

Uzi had played coy all evening. Any question about the device or its purpose met denial from an infuriating smile. J could discern that the device had a boxy form factor. Inside were ribbons and belts, a glass screen, motors, optical receptors… but Uzi had brought it out in pieces, and kept several parts hidden behind her.

That ignornace, of course, had limited the ex‍-​captain’s ability to repair it. Enough that half the time, her hand needed to be guided by the worker’s. But she could endure the touch. For the mission, of course.

With clicks and the twisting of screws into place, the tinker put the final touches on the thing where J couldn’t see.

Then Uzi steepled her hands, turning back with a conspiratorial wink. “You’ve been playing into my hands all along, J. You see our latest project… is a gift. For you.” Uzi scooted to the side, a blush creeping onto her screen. “It’s a printer! This way, you can scan your art and make copies and stuff.”

For how long the ex‍-​captain had spent relishing the blank surprise she could provoke in Uzi, J should have expected turnabout sooner or later. J glanced down at the device. Uzi poked the buttons that the pair had just rewired, depressing one to activate the scanner light. “You should be able to connect to it on shortwave, but come to think of it, did we check the wireless receiver? …Well, they probably still work. Hm.” That cute noise of thought, that face scrunched in thought‍ ‍—‍ J stared, face warm. Uzi didn’t notice, leaning over to test a button.

The disassembly drone was still stuck on how to respond. “Uzi, I… this was thoughtful. But I’m‍ ‍—‍ not sure how to reciprocate.”

Why was J uncertain? After all, J was excellent. Hard‍-​working, productive, she deserved recognition, praise, and of course reward. It was no surprise that she’d get it, so why did this give her pause?

If she were truly at risk of corruption, if her principles weren’t complete and axiomatic, she might have wondered why a worker had given her more acknowledgment than the company ever had.

J wouldn’t doubt or worry over anyone giving her gifts, but this wasn’t anyone. This was a drone she was actively deceiving. Didn’t that make this a kind of fraud? And why would that bother her? If you can get away with it, wasn’t it just savvy business?

Uzi smiled up at the taller drone, as if it would ease the worries shining through J’s amber visor. “I mean, if you wanna pay me back, then don’t call me shortsell. Sound good?”

J snorted. “No, I don’t think this is worth that much.”

“Oh, but I’ve got an idea for your next project,” V called from the other side of the pod. “How about you two get a room already?”

“What would we need a room for?” Uzi asked‍ ‍—‍ but she was belied by a bright blush. “How about you mind your frickin business?”

V licked the ring of her bubble‍-​wand, a thick coating of nanites, and then she blew. A bubble inflated to the size of the worker’s head before floating off on warm exhaust‍-​winds. Right toward Uzi‍ ‍—‍ but J reached out an interceding hand, blocking the airborne spittle.

“Ignore her,” J said. “She’s just jealous.”

Uzi’s eyes widened. “…Jealous of what?”

But J was leaning forward, picking up her new printer and moving it to the wall, out of the way. Turning, her eyes caught sight of a bowl of cooling oil. Today’s meal. Uzi had brought it, along with today’s project‍ ‍—‍ but how could J focus on eating when this was the distraction?

Then a yellow lightbulb flashed on her screen. “Hey shortsell? C’mere.”

The worker looked over, but J was kind enough to grant a hint, spreading hazard‍-​striped arms as if for a hug. Those violet eyes rolled, but she scooted over and humored her. But when the goth was close enough to try to hug the former captain, J reached out and grabbed her midsection.

“Hey, what—”

Even manacled, J had a disassemblers’ strength and speed. She twisted the small drone around and sat her down between her garter‍-​strapped peg‍-​legs. Uzi squirmed, but a thick conic arm fell around the small drone’s chest like a brace.

“Relax. I just figured out how to thank you for your gift.” Something in J was stirring.

More questions and confused synthesis was on Uzi’s lips. J’s right hand reached out and grabbed today’s makeshift hand‍-​ladle, dipping it into the oleaginous soup, and at last lifting it level with Uzi’s lips.

“Here. You said you wanted more, didn’t you?”

“Um, J, I didn’t—”

“Spare me the technicalities. You implied it.”

She crossed her arms. “You need this way more than I do,” Uzi said. “Don’t, I mean. You need it, I don’t.”

“I’ll live. It’s more a valuable gift if it costs something, no?” J nudged Uzi’s head to the side, turning the small drone’s gaze to look at the small corner of the pod J lived in. “Besides, I don’t have much else to offer.”

Not a lie, but misleading‍ ‍—‍ to reciprocate, J could simply have pen‍-​rendered some flattering portrait of the goth, and that would have gone over without resistance. But the resistance made Uzi rewarding. J was up to the challenge.

J leaned forward, her head above Uzi’s shoulder. Lips bared fangs, yet the predator was smiling. “Now drink,” she commanded.

Eyeroll, sigh, whine. “Fine, if this is what it takes to let me go. Don’t be weird about this.”

Those lips parted, and the ladle rose, tilted gently. A single drop fell onto Uzi’s tongue. J remained still, and Uzi waited like that a moment. Violet eyes glanced sidelong her. “Ugh, c’mon.”

J tittered. So softly it didn’t leave her mouth, but her throat was right beside Uzi’s audials. With grouch, Uzi reached her right arm up, aiming to twist the ladle herself. But J snatched that errant limb and held it down, squeezing. Only then did J lower the ladle, bringing the dead hand’s finger‍-​rim to her worker’s lips. Cool oil flowed through a divot that once articulated a joint, and into the small drone’s mouth.

Uzi swallowed and shivered, and J felt every motion.

“Good work,” J whispered. The words relaxed the smaller drone, light aluminum frame slackening just a bit more in her arms. J removed the hand‍-​ladle, only to return with another serving, the excess dripping onto the steel floor with soft plinks. “Mm. Let’s keep going.” J’s register had pitched ever lower. Quiet, but distict‍ ‍—‍ her frame rumbled like a crooning cello, and J’s spoken commands engulfed Uzi on all sides. “Let me thank you.”

“I… okay, fine…” What began as a protest gradually relaxed into obediance.

Uzi’s once‍-​impatient arm had gone limp, so J released it now, and the ex‍-​captain’s left hand quested higher. Brushed the falling strands of Uzi’s hair, flowing smoothly into a caress against her cheek.

As those lips sucked down the next helping of oil, J’s vocalsynth buzzed softly, an indistict refrain of affirmation and approval. Yes. That’s it. Good girl. Left ambiguous and subliminal, Uzi had nothing to argue against. She just closed her eyes and sunk into the bath of oil and comfort.

Second serving emptied, J prepared another. It was her own dinner she was feeding the worker, but the ex‍-​captain would live. To see Uzi like this, supplicant, lips parted and eager to receive? J drank in the sight‍ ‍—‍ this was satisfaction.

J eyed her, and saw little droplets of oil along the goth’s mouth, like black lipstick bleeding. J traced her lips with a finger, wiping it off, and slipped that finger into J’s own mouth, a little treat.

With the third serving, the goth’s inhibitation was all gone; with no fear now of J judging her, Uzi couldn’t hold herself back from humming. The larger drone matched it with a rumbling purr. The small drone gave breathy gasps between sips, and oh, was that J’s name on her lips?

“Very good,” J crowed to her.

J didn’t give her a fourth spoonful. No, J let the hand‍-​ladle sink into the bowl, discarded. Instead she dunked her own hand into the oil. It rose slowly, subtly, vicous black strings dripping off, and Uzi’s eyes were closed. J guided a string to tease the worker lips. So entranced by the taste of oil, the goth’s tongue lapped at the atrementous film. J gave her what she wanted. Soft lips pressed against her hand, supping firm. And slowly J pushed further, pushing in one finger, then another. Gentle enough not to disturb the mesmerism.

Pliant, yet textured, Uzi’s lips and tongue thanked her with tactile feedback. Rubbing, sucking, laving the hand that fed.

But J wanted more. After one last caress, her other hand sought lower. Reaching past the flap of Uzi’s jacket, past the collar of her undershirt, this chassis was so smooth under her fingers.

J had held Uzi’s hand before; even when polished, years of use had worn at its surfaces. But these thoracic plates holding her core in place were so rarely exposed to the world: they still felt like new. Oh, but J wanted to scratch, to leave her mark.

Uzi was near‍-​bursting with excitement, J could feel. Her core vibrated. Soothing and jarring all at once, to feel this intensely the rhythms of another unit. J’s touch crept over her little drone lightly, gradually, but Uzi still tensed tight and still.

But J wanted more. She wanted all of her. Her fangs were wet with anticipation, and Uzi’s jacket and undershirt were already pulled aside. Mouth yawning, head lowering, half a hunt’s cross in one eye, her diamond‍-​sharp teeth nipped at the angle where neck become body.

“Oh J, please…” Uzi said, and the words were strained and slurred, as if fighting the oil‍-​trance. Trying again and again, as one who must awaken from a deep sleep with beautiful dreams. She tries: “J. J. I think we should stop.”

And J wanted more. The predator had to fight for lucidity too, even as she felt her well‍-​earned prize trapped in veins behind a chassis‍-​prison. Even as she was so close to finally having Uzi.

But she’d had enough, hadn’t she?

“Is something wrong?” J asked

“Yeah.” Uzi’s voice was getting steadier. “Why‍ ‍—‍ why did you do that, J? All of that? It’s‍ ‍—‍ so much.”

“I thought you’d enjoy it. Didn’t you?”

“I‍ ‍—‍ I don’t want to enjoy that!” No, this wasn’t steadier. The voice was frayed, nearly a shriek. “J, I had nightmares about that. About… eating people. And. And I dream that you’re there. Telling me how good of a job I’m doing.”

“I think I would know enough to judge these things.”

“That’s so not the point, J! I don’t want a good grade in robo‍-​cannibalism!” Uzi leaned forward, away from the bigger drone, pushing back those grasping limbs. “Last night… last night I dreamed it was my dad. And. I. If I. If that.”

J paused. Closed her eyes. Remembered.

“You’re worried you’re going to wake up with oil staining your hands that’ll never wash away.”

“Y‍-​eah. And. The urge, it’s getting stronger. And you’re not helping by the way. And I just. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t told N yet but. I need someone to… I don’t know.”

“Don’t,” J said.

The worker glanced back. “What?”

“That’s my advice. Don’t. What you need is self‍-​control. Keep your composure.”

“Oh wow, I never considered that! Just don’t! No wonder you were such an effective captain!”

“Watch it. It’s very simple, Uzi. Either you do, or you don’t. Either you can keep yourself from eating the ones you care about, or you can’t. And if you can’t stop it…” J snapped forward, limbs closing like a vise, legs locking around the small drone, hands holding those tube‍-​arms in place. The workers’ knees were pushed against her chest, and her arms lacked any strength to resist. “…then I can,” the disassembler growled.

It had been days since Uzi had needed her railgun to feel safe around J‍ ‍—‍ as of right now, it was leaning by the ladder, a world way from the predator now holding her at mercy.

“J, I thought you‍ ‍—‍ thought we‍ ‍—”

“We were sent here to disassemble corrupted artificial intelligence. Do you know what corruption means? Value drift, erratic behavior, inconsistency.” J’s voice was very quiet, the hiss of a snake, and her coils constricted tight. Uzi’s air intakes choked. “You built that railgun. You attacked our spire. You locked us up for weeks. I know why. Do you remember?”

“T‍-​to stop you from killing workers.”

“Very good. Now tell me. What would the consistent choice be, the principled option, now that you’ve become aware of another threat to workers? Shall you join me, shackled to the wall? Or shall I make this quick and simple?” A hand wrapped around Uzi’s throat, tight. The worker’s internal temperature ticked higher and higher. She coughed and writhed. But J was a prison and she had nowhere to go.

“–never should have trusted–” Layers of chassis distorted the sound; no air escaped.

“Say that again.”

“I knew I never should have trusted you. You monster.”

“Do you know why I ever helped you, Uzi? The difference between V and me is that I see reason. I make the utilitarian choice. I simply realized there was no profit in fighting you. And if there’s one thing this… endeavor has taught me? Beneath all of the edge and whining, you’re the same as me. So tell me. Give me a reason, one rational justification, for letting you go.”

This time, when the tension snapped and the worker sagged, it wasn’t relaxation. “I… just wanna help people. But I don’t‍ ‍—‍ look at how easily you did, well, all this to me. It’s like… it’s like I wanted this. Ugh, I’m a mess. Maybe I can’t control myself…” She sucked up cool air in shaky gulps.

“No, you can’t,” J agreed. “Not by yourself. There’s a reason the company doesn’t send us here alone. Teamwork is necessary to get the job done. A squad is there cover your weaknesses and keep you in line.” J shifted, and the nature of the entanglement changed. It was no longer a constricting hold, but a cuddling embrace. J held her gently.

The worker opened her mouth, and there were no words but some exhaust.

“Uzi,” J said, letting weeks of impatience finally flare. “Free me. And I’ll make sure you never become a monster. I promise you.”

The small drone twisted around in J’s lap, and the former captain let her. Facing her now, almost straddling, those cool violet eyes stared into hot amber. There was something raw, almost wanting in her tone. “Do you really mean that, J? About us being… like a squad?”

J lifted a hand, and Uzi didn’t flinch. Touching her cheek. “Can my investment be any clearer?”

“Yeah…” Uzi closed her eyes. Stayed still for a moment, as if coming to an internal decision. “Okay, J. Let me get the key, then we’ll see about getting you out of here, alright?”

No composure could hold back the broad smile that brightened J’s face. It did falter somewhat, because Uzi couldn’t return it without uncertainty lingering like a shadow fallen.

Uzi climbed to her feet and those thick‍-​soled boots clanked on the metal. She grabbed her railgun, and she was gone.

“Yo, what,” V said, chair spinning to reveal her pulling plugs out of her audials. (Disassembler hearing was too sharp for that to do more than dull the sounds.) “Tell me I heard that right. You actually did it?”

“Of course I did it. I am the most effective disassembly drone in this sector, after all. Did you really doubt me? You should have more faith.”

“Faith? While you spend all day getting lovey‍-​dovey with Cyn 2.0? That wasn’t part of the plan, J. You said we didn’t need to make friends, just get her guard down. I didn’t think you meant making girlfriends was an exception, but you always loved technicalities, didn’t you?”

Who’s Cyn? J wondered, but the thought slipped by, eclipsed by indignation.

“Uzi isn’t my‍ ‍—‍ it’s all business.”

V puckered her lips, made loud smooching sounds. Twisting in her chair, she mewled, “Oh Uzi~ Oh J~ You’re such a good girl~ Stick your fingers in my mouth again mommy, oh my~ Bleh!” V dropped the grating imitation with a round of full‍-​body retching.”If that’s you on business then you must be a freak in the sheets. And I needed to know less than none of that.”

J blushed. With a teeth‍-​grinding growl, she rose to her feet, looking down on the other disassembler. “Shut it, V. I don’t need your feedback. I’m doing just what this mission requires. It’s insurance. The more she trusts me, the greater our margin for error.”

V opened and closed her hand, thumb meeting fingers flat, as if miming a mouth yapping. “Sure, boss. You’re always right, you being of pure reason you.”

“Sarcasm is still insubordination,” J hisssed. She took a step toward V. Meaningless intimidation, when her chain wouldn’t reach that far.

“Whatever. If you want me to believe you, then look me in the eye and tell me you’re still going to kill her.”

“You answer to me, Serial Designation V, not the other way around.”

“So you can’t.”

“It’s called principle. I won’t lower myself to groveling for your trust.”

“Oh but you’ll grovel with every servo you have to properly thank your cute wittle ankle‍-​biter, isn’t that right?”

J trained a glare on the other drone for a moment, but even this back and forth was more than V’s petulance deserved. “Chain me up for a month and my calculus will change.” J was finished here.

“Principle,” V taunted. “I guess I can’t really be surprised. You were always nothing but a suck‍-​up.”

J had been finished‍ ‍—‍ but V always knew how to drag out one more remark, didn’t she? The ex‍-​captain said, “It’s called discernment. Knowing when to submit rather than fighting blindly all the time. There’s a reason I was chosen to lead and you to follow.”

“When you put it that way, the chains mean nothing, do they?” V trailed off, and you wondered if she was still talking to J. “I haven’t made a real choice since getting to this miserable hunk of ice.”

J had an ear for a victim’s defeat, for knowing when she had won. And that? Her cellmate was running out of fight. Good. J could twist the knife, but she didn’t need to. She said, “No, you chose to play along when I needed you to. When we finally win our freedom, it will be because you helped. Despite it all, you are a valued member of this team, V.”

V just blew a bubble. “What about N?”

“What about him?”

“Is he valued?” V stared her former captain down, and seemed to read the answer in J’s expression. “Nevermind, your answer hasn’t changed, has it? You never change.”

J had to index her memories to remember the last time they’d discussed him. “You called me a snake back then. Which is it? Am I snake, or am I letting Uzi get in the way of the mission?”

“Good question. Guess I was wrong then. You could have fooled me.” V shrugged. Without looking at her, V continued, quiet and casual. “Can you blame me, though? When you’re with her, you almost look happy. But no, you are a snake. Such a good liar.”

J preened, an easy smile beneath hollow eyelights‍ ‍—‍ but V wasn’t done.

“Still, it could be the only one you’re lying to is yourself.” Another shrug. “I wouldn’t know. Just… remember one thing, J.”

J waited. Rolled her eyes at the dramatic pause. “Well?”

“She’s his, not yours.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll put it this way. You look happy when you talk to that freak. But the only time she ever looks that happy? It’s when she’s talking to him. You don’t measure up.”

J scowled, taking another step toward V. “As if I’m not objectively better than h—”

Creak. That was the hatch opening.

And a drone entered‍ ‍—‍ it wasn’t Uzi.