Serpentine Squiggles

First Installment

What does it mean to dream?

Bleary eyes, murmured words meaningless, limbs unmoving save some twitches. J was stirring. Lips scowled, then a dim amber loading icon told of a command executed on her internal console — pkill and some interrupts, her best efforts to suppress autorun consciousness, so unwelcome with sunlit evening still bright outside the spire.

But what did it matter when she awoke? J hadn’t clocked in yesterday, nor the day before, nor would she today. Sleep till noon, sleep till midnight. Sleep forever. What difference did it make?

The difference is whether V will keep me awake with bubbles and gnawed chains, J decided. Needed a full day’s sleep to deal with that.

The ex​-​captain yawned, hand stretching up to rub over her eyelights, a symbolic gesture that she’d copied from — that she must have read about humans performing. Before.

Why couldn’t J sleep? Hard steel floor beneath her, the space rank with old stains no one took the orders to clean. V refused to leave the only chair, hogging that scarce softness, and J’s chains were just short enough that sticking a tail in the ceiling would tear her head few inches off her neck. Would she mind— No, that ideation was unproductive.

J sighed, and even that was a mistake. The air was warm, smoky from two overheating disassembly drones venting with nowhere to go. Hot enough her squadmate slept with her bomber jacket off, every inch of chassis exposed. Tempting, but J wouldn’t dare, not when the most consistent alarm clock was the landing pod’s hatch opening, admitting that walking, whining void of decorum and respect.

Her.

J killed that thread of thought. Sleep, she commanded, teeth grinding. She cast her mind back to the almost​-​flushed caches of her memory consolidation and indexing programs, seeking dreams.

Except that was no respite. It didn’t work. Again, why couldn’t J sleep?

Every day in the pod, J kept herself composed, hair finger​-​combed, suit straightened and smoothed beneath this collar and these manacles. J would maintain her dignity. Because if she cracked, those violet eyes would look at her, look down at her… and what rebuttal would J have?

The ex​-​captain had failed — each moment spent locked up in her own landing pod was proof of that — but this only marked a moment of failure. A moment of weakness, a market fluctuation that let a barely sentient toaster briefly seize the upper hand and persuade J’s own worthless subordinate to lock her up.

Just one moment. If the ex​-​captain were free for an instant, that toaster would be a puddle of oil and N would be impotent screams beneath a screen blanketed with the last warnings discharging from his virus​-​clensed system.

J was a threat. She hadn’t been defanged, and every minute that toaster stood in the landing pod should be spent trembling with the knowledge that only the weakest link of metal held J back from devouring her.

The ex​-​captain wasn’t like V, hissing empty threats and lunging as far as her chain could stretch, like a dog on a leash. J’d had her fill of snarling impotence — no, she would be a quiet death waiting.

But what was the difference between patience and resignation? Discretion and submission? A promise and a dream?

Keep your composure. Because if she cracked, if those violet eyes looked at her, looked down on her — how could she sleep like that?

So again, why couldn’t J sleep? It wasn’t because of that hard dirty floor beneath her. It wasn’t because of that air too​-​warm with vented exhaust. It wasn’t because she hadn’t gotten tired to the depths of her oil tank, drained in that way only not working could leave her. No.

J couldn’t sleep because of bad dreams. Because of a bad dream.

For a moment, the scenario could have passed as fantasy. The worker was nothing but a worm beneath her, writhing at her feet. Barely resisting the aftershock of the captain’s electromagnetic pulse. Arms reaching out in vain for its sticker​-​clad toy gun, clawing for an opportunity — only for J to kick it away, denying it all hope.

J had won, and she deserved a little bonus, a monologue, her directives bathing her in reward signals as she stood poised to satisfy her mission objective.

But the worker had kept reaching, kept seeking — grabbed a hold of the captain’s own nanite stinger. The reward signal became error so fast she couldn’t even blink — a hole was already melting in her leg before she could react. Scrambling back, lifting her leg, running the twin computations of what was happening and how do I fix this — but neither yielded a return value fast enough.

J had made mistakes before, even fighting her own product line just often enough that genuine danger – even the very specific pain of nanite acid — neither were unknown to her. J had lived bad days before.

But what made this a nightmare was that next moment. The absurd reversal, as she fell to the ground and the toaster found its footing and found its gun. That contraption pointed right at her face, glowing a bright ghastly green, a roaring motor that ruptured the electromagnetic field so profoundly J’s coils vibrated with its power like a foreshadowed doom.

Those violet eyes, narrowed intently above a smirk. The satisfaction so plain on its face — it had won, it had J at its mercy.

“One more buzzword and I’ll do it~”

And J stuttered. “Eq—”

What was the phrase loaded into her vocalsynth? Equity partnership? With a barely sentient toaster? What was she thinking?

J aborted the synthesis. Staring into those violet eyes, she couldn’t speak. Why not? The captain was loyal to her directives. Was it that J had no reason to accept this mercy, or because the toaster had no reason to give it?

The disassembly drone let her head fall back to the floor of the outpost just as the electromagnetic amplification built to a lethal crescendo. Bleary eyes, murmured words meaningless, limbs unmoving save some twitches.

But her silence was its own kind of submission.

J lost and it won, and she couldn’t forget the look on its face. She dreamed about it every night. The lowest point of her career, the antecedent to every moment now spent in durance vile with nothing else to think about.

What does it mean to dream?

(“Dreaming” is a colloquial term for JCJenson’s patented transapient memory consolidation algorithm. A process which generates simulated scenarios, a synthesis of gathered information and extrapolated hypotheticals.)

J had seen every permutation of that humilating night in the bunker — what words on her lips could have sealed or unsealed her fate? Apologies, begging, compliments (a dream more embarrassing than showing up to a hunt with no clothes). Could she have hissed insinuations that tore at the toaster’s insecurities? (The coming days had proved it had oh so many to choose from.) Could she have persuaded it of the necessity of disassembly? (A drone competent enough to rival JCJenson’s engineering, yet not quite clever enough to realize the importance of the company’s vision… so disappointing.)

That was what it meant to dream: to be disappointed. Faithful simulations were never kind to J. The toaster had held the captain’s life with the trigger in its hands; lose or die were the only payouts. Dreams were born of a marriage of reality with impossibility, and they took after the latter parent.

J shifted, lying on her side, tail lashing an arc behind her. A change of angle meant her optics caught sight of the toaster’s scavenged whiteboard. On it, her plans for this very landing pod. She would plaster it with gaudy purple paint and pointless flame decals, appending redundant extra legs and mounting railguns on each and every one…

The ex​-​captain sighed once more, and felt her breath trapped within this tight space. Chained by the toaster’s will, surrounded by walls soon to be overwritten with its own design — and when J closed her eyes, who was still waiting triumphant in her dreams?

There was no escaping Uzi.

Click, click, click. Swivel​-​scrape. Grind.

Stilhetto​-​pointed pegs tapped on the steel floor. A chain shrieked friction, dragged along as the chair spun and spun. And the gnawing of diamond​-​sharp teeth against titanium links. Grinding and grinding. Disassembly drone mouths were optimized for cutting into aluminum and plastic, rather than wearing away at the most durably forged alloys.

J tensed tight, then counted to ten lest she announce herself with a growl.

But all the cacophony still ceased at the former captain’s slightest motion.

“Hii boss~” V chirped. “Gosh, you sure slept in. Must be wiped after a hard day’s work doing nothing, isn’t that right?”

J ignored her cellmate as she rose to sit crosslegged. Twisting her head left and right, extending her manacled arms, fingers splayed, cracking joints. Stretching, gently easing her servos out of any misconfigurations they might have slipped into as she slept.

V crossed her arms. “Fine, ignore me. Just saying, this whole escape plan would go a lot faster if you helped instead of giving up.” Then she spun in her chair, as if dismissing her own superior.

“Impulsive and short​-​sighted as always, V. Do you think that toaster is as stupid as the rest of them? It’s watching us. How does your plan account for it inevitably noticing you wearing down the chains?”

V turned back around when addressed. She’d transformed her hand into that inane bubble​-​wand preset, and blew one right at her captain’s face.

J didn’t blink as her squadmate stared her down. J’s amber eyelights twitched when the bubble went pop against her visor glass and the liquid was starting to drip. J had to wipe it off with a sleeve. Sticky, smearing her screen. And V had won the staring contest.

“Are you really that worried about one little freak? She scared you bad, didn’t she?” V giggled. “If she replaces the chains, I’ll just keep chewing. Sooner or later, she’ll run out or not notice in time then shink there goes her head. Simple as can be~”

As if it’ll stop at chains. J glanced at the the blueprints sketched on the whiteboard. Then closed her eyes and remembered the railgun’s terrible glow.

As if a toaster like that isn’t dreaming up a worse prison even as we speak.

V followed J’s gaze, and made the wrong guess. “Don’t tell me you actually believe her. She couldn’t manage half the nonsense she speaks, and if she could, she’d be a threat to the company you worship.”

J glared back, and discarded her composure. “I know that. You do not need to condescend to me, Serial Designation V.”

“No, I think I do! You’re being as naïve as N — do you really think sitting around and playing nice with that purple freak is the best we can do?”

Nice? J was being calculating. But V wouldn’t know the difference. The other disassembly drone stared at her, brows sharpened to critical angles.

J met her cellmate’s look without a flinch or flexure of doubt and simply said, “For now? Yes.”

V stared, speechless lips slightly parted, then shook her head, spinning the chair around so that she couldn’t see her former captain in chains. “And here I thought I could at least count on you to remember what we are. What we’re supposed to do.”

“That’s a lie. If you actually had trust invested in me, you’d keep your stock. I’m not N. We don’t need that thing’s friendship, just her guard down.”

Slowly the chair turned. Not fully, but V peeked back at her. “Then I can pop her head off?”

“Of course.” Then J frowned. Letting V take the kill? “But I’ll do it.”

Was that challenge in her squadmate’s eyes?

J said, “What do you think N will do when he sees our work? I haven’t forgotten your performance last time I let you face him down.”

V’s head finally fell at that. Eyes in her lap, idle bubble​-​wand dripping onto the floor. A moment, then she was asking, “You’re going to kill him for real this time, aren’t you?”

“Company policy, I’m afraid. His termination is long overdue. This time, though, I think I’ll make it slow. Drive the point into him before it’s over.” J smiled; teeth bared. “That little toaster injecting me with my own acid has given me ideas.” J’s gaze drifted away, imagining the satisfaction of enforcing that procedure. She gave a small laugh.

Caught up like that, she missed the look on V’s face.

“Don’t,” the other drone quietly replied.

J’s gaze snapped to her cellmate, amber eyes narrowing.

“Don’t bother, I mean.” The expression she offered now was empty eyes over a shark​-​toothed grin. “Have you seen the way he looks at that freak? Trust me, watching her die is the worst punishment you could give him. ’s all you need”

J raised an eyebrow, a retort on her lips—

Creak. The landing pod’s hatch opened.

But the toaster didn’t use the ladder; her knee​-​high boots clapped loud against the steel as she dropped down.

“Sup, killbots.” Both her hands were occupied by white plastic basins. J couldn’t see their contents, as she was sitting on the floor, but the toaster’s careless jump had the contents sloshing. Fragrant black droplets gone to waste, just outside the reach of either of them. “Here’s your gross cannibal breakfast thing. Or dinner. Same thing.”

The two basins had once been either half of a drone’s abdominal casing, split apart, cracks welded. The core, the pumps, the struts, the meshes, the tanks, all had been scooped (or, more likely, slurped) out, leaving it empty. In their place, a soup of cool, inviting black. Mechanical hands and legs bobbed in the broth.

With her feet, the toaster nudged the meals closer to their recipients. The first abdomen​-​bowl went to V. When it was close enough, V pounced forward and grabbed it. Immediately was it at her lips, and a thick waterfall was pouring down her throat.

While V slaked herself, J was given her meal. She simply plucked a hand and licked it clean. Both of the disassembly drones were overheating enough for instinct​-​threads to be buzzing at the edge of consciousness. But as ever: keep your composure.

“Mmm, but it’s a little stale,” V crowed when her bowl was empty. “I’d rather have something fresh~” Punctuating this was a lunge, chain stretching taut, and diamond​-​sharp maw yawning wide, just inches from her prey’s visor.

The toaster flinched, but caught herself after a corebeat. She knew she wasn’t in danger; with tape on the floor she had already marked out the pod’s safe zones.

“I must admit,” J started, “it’s quite bold of a worker to walk alone into a room with two disassemblers, even restrained. You’ve got a lot of guts.”

The toaster snorted, then moved. She was quick — quick enough J would need to upshift to a hunting clockrate just to react. The toaster struck a pose while her railgun was spinning in the air. It’d been yanked free of her backholster with a single motion.

Then, finger on the trigger, telescopic green holo​-​sights pointed right at J’s core. Uzi smirked, those violet eyes peering over at her.

“No, I think it’s more like the two of you are stuck in here with me. Don’t think I’m the only one in danger!”

J had stilled at the sight, but she didn’t flinch. This was not the look she dreamed about — those violet eyes couldn’t be looking down on her, not now, because the ex​-​captain had exposed no weakness. J had only stilled. She would only still. Keep your composure.

“Oh, I remember,” J said. Was the long pause before speaking a sign of weakness or of strength? Her voice was steady, that was what mattered. Keep it. “Nonetheless, at best this simply makes you competitive. All it would take is one mistake for V to tear you apart. But… you haven’t made a mistake yet. That’s not performance I would expect from a corrupted AI.”

“Bite me!” Gun barrel jabbing forward. Keep—

She couldn’t. Yet J managed to turn her sideways flinch into a headshake. “That was a compliment.”

“It sounded backhanded! I don’t need compliments from you. Leave me alone.” She pointed with the gun. “Eat. Your cannibal slop is going cold.”

J bit off a oil​-​drenched thumb, grinding it in her mouth, then cast her eyes down. She dipped the hand into the oil​-​soup, and licked another coating off it. She tilted her head, frowning in thought.

Then, with careful application of some dollops of nanite acid, J melted the fingers together. One minute of careful work, and she’d molded the hand into makeshift ladle. She began drinking oil by the handful. No messes.

All throughout, the ex​-​captain couldn’t help her wandering gaze.

“You’d normally have gotten to work by now,” J commented. She smiled up at the goth staring her down, even as the worker quickly looked away. “Something more interesting caught your eye?”

The worker scoffed. “You’re not interesting, you’re just confusing and creepy! Always staring at me all the time, for some reason. V wants to kill me, I get that at least, but what’s your deal? N did not make it sound like you’d be the first to come around. So what are you really plotting?”

J swallowed a mouthful of oil. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m still calculating the best strategy to address my mission objectives going forward.”

“Uh huh,” she said, tone dripping. “And I’m still calculating if I want to kill all humans.” When J didn’t rise to the bait, she added. “You said ‘one wrong move and V would tear me apart’ — as if you wouldn’t do the exact same.”

J paused, a handful of oil halfway to her lips. She said, “I would not.” Hyperbolic, but not quite a lie. Not if you parse carefully. While the toaster thought of a response, J finished her meal.

Perhaps it had taken those moments to work up the courage, but the goth stepped closer. Step by step, gun still trained on the disassembly drone. One foot came down on the wrong side of the danger​-​zone tape, then the other, and J looked placidly up at her. In return, only a skeptical expression.

Why take this risk, if, as claimed, the worker didn’t believe her at all? Perhaps she wanted to believe — the difference between prisoner and warden was that one was more comfortable, not less weary.

The former captain lifted a hand, and slowly transformed it. The gauntlet held nothing for a dramatic moment. The drone reacted quickly, her next step halting, gun snapping to the transforming hand. Then J let the process finish, revealing: a clipboard bearing a fresh sheet of paper. Her answer to V’s bubble​-​wand.

J heard that faint sigh of relief — then another jolt when the toaster saw the disassembler’s right hand had moved while she wasn’t looking, unseen inside her suit jacket. The railgun jerked to track it when it emerged, and simply brandished the one luxury this prison had offered her.

They’d let J keep her branded pen.

J’s placid expression became a smile, and she laughed at the reaction this theater had provoked. Even V giggled at the toaster’s paranoia.

Uzi scowled, anger​-​knot above one eye. “Okay, fine. So you won’t try to kill me the first chance you get. Don’t think I’m trusting you that easily. You’re probably just waiting for me to drop my guard.”

J simply laughed again, and that furrowed brows further.

“Oh, but don’t you realize? You already have.” J broke eye contact then, eye falling down to where the worker’s jacket​-​hem skirted her hips. While all focus had been on J’s hands, a cord​-​tail had snaked around unseen.

One blink​-​quick jab from the stinger, and J could have melted a hole in the worker’s thigh, then carved a trail of burning pain as she fell. She’d go down, and then J could pounce and she’d be nothing but drops of oil between her claws.

And J hadn’t.

That made the worker yelp and jump. But there was a problem. Dodge back, and she’d get impaled on the stinger. Dodge her left, and she’d get caught on J’s cord​-​tail. Dodge her right, and V was waiting with none of J’s self​-​control.

J quickly pulled her tail back, so that when her captor instictively stumbled backwards, she didn’t accidentally turn the disassembly drone into a liar.

“Huh,” was Uzi’s elegant summation. “Thanks for not killing me, I guess? Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do!” The goth shook her head, and turned attention to her toolbox.

J likewise turned her attention to her clipboard, and she felt the massage​-​smooth glide of her pen inking the page, heard the soft scratches where she applied more force.

Not enough to stop her from glancing up, of course, nor watching the worker drone at work. Screwdriver turning, she was prying open the casing to the pod’s relay, revealing flickering LEDs and and exposed wires.

J spoke up. “Receiver’s busted.” Her eyes were back on her page before the worker looked over. “Bandpass filters aren’t resonating and the feedback on the automatic gain control is entirely unresponsive. The most it’s been able to pick up is shortwave, and even then it’s spotty.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at her.

“What? A functioning relay means an open avenue of communication with the company. Fixing it’s been on the agenda for months. Maybe if a certain synergistic liability kept up with his quota, we could have have already addressed it.”

A frown, lips forming the start of a rebuttal, then a head shake and the worker silently returning to work. It took minutes to confirm what J had already told her.

“Did you not believe me?” J said. “Did you give N this much skepticisim a mere ten minutes after he met you?”

“Forgive me for second​-​guessing your weird heelface turn, it’s not like you literally tried to kill him for suggesting you let me repair the ship.”

“At that point, I hadn’t seen what you were capable of. For all I knew, your intentions were empty marketing. We had been warned to expect corrupted artificial intelligence, and warned that it was infectious. I simply took the precautions I was trained to.”

“And you didn’t even hesitate. Don’t act like you were just doing what you had to! N told me all about it. You’ve had it out for him for years! You just wanted the excuse.”

J tsked. “You’re charmed with him now, but anyone’s patience will run out after years of substandard performance.” But she could already see any trace of sympathy draining fast from the worker’s face. J considered how to word her next remark. “If I’m being honest? N’s track record as a disassembly drone is dire enough I wouldn’t be surprised if even a worker’s help was enough to prompt improvement.”

“You’re not his boss and he doesn’t need your approval. He’s doing just fine!”

J opened her mouth, and then closed it. She bit back a response, kept her composure, and left it at, “All I mean to say is, from my perspective, I believe we would both benefit from further repairs to the landing pod. So in that endeavor, consider me a resource.”

Uzi’s gaze didn’t get any softer. “The only resources I need are outside this landing pod. I’m gonna go see if I can scavenge for the circuits this thing needs. With N.” She turned, stalked to the ladder and climbed. “If you wanna be helpful, get your crazy squadmate to stop trying to kill me.”

The hatch closed, cutting them off from the cool air of the spire.

Thump. That was V kicking the ground. “Finally.”

J let out a breath too. She heard the scrape of chains against the ground, but before V got back to gnawing, she shot a look at J.

V said, “You’re really going hard on this ‘play nice’ bit, aren’t you? But forget about doing what she said — don’t expect me to play along.”

“Please,” J said, relaxing her features into something less warm, less restrained, yet still composed. “I want you to keep antagonizing her. I’ll look all the more appealing with your antics as contrast.”

That got V to smile. “Heh. So it really was just an act. You almost fooled me. You’re a real snake, aren’t you?”

J smiled back, then looked back down to her clipboard, and kept her pen moving. The smile faded, and behind it lay an uncertain, undefined look that felt the most honest of all.

There was something effortless about a deception that required no pretending.

Second Installment

One by one, five lights flared yellow with function. J was stirring. The purple toaster wasn’t her whole world — as much as that world had greatly contracted — and J didn’t dream about her every night. Small reprieve that was. But, despite having the cadence of a nightmare, it was a reprieve, if only because the meaning and its memory was obscure to her. A corroding lock held with hands wet and empty.

To dream was to be disappointed, but what had disappointed her, that day? Had that first hunt left her unsatisfied?

J transformed her left hand. Clipboard and blank page, she clicked her pen, and closed her eyes. With her functioning proprioception, J would never lose track of the pen’s position, but she could lose awareness of it, and let her hand move instinctively. Like automatic drawing, with none of the postmodern nonsense the surrealists babbled on about, nor their hideous results.

Whenever J let her hands draw automatically, especially with these old dreams still haunting her caches, the results piqued her. Recurring images, consistent but inexplicable. A human with freckles and a radiant smile, even as bags underlined her eyes. Drawn in so many poses, with so many outfits. Sometimes there was a drone with twin​-​tails — J would blot her out the second optics lay upon her. There was something haunting about its eyes sallow in black and white, watching her even from impressions on an ink​-​soaked page.

The human had a downcast face today, reflective spots in her eyes like faint tears. J drew breath, and there was a palpitation in her iron​-​clad core.

Tired of this divination, J balled up the page and threw it away. It bounced over to V’s corner of the room, and her cellmate, now awake, caught the ball with her tail​-​tip and tossed the crumpled page in her mouth. A grin and chewing. J snorted.

Another gauntlet transformation, then another blank page. J sketched consciously this time, and summoned images not from her dreams, but from daily logs. A faint gesture line gave the starting point, a sharp curve to suggest a figure hunched over a table. Further passes blocked out robotic anatomy, indications of the draping of clothes, a jacket, boots. She had to move carefully and commit to lines without hesitation — drafting by pen meant no erasing, but a robot knew precision.

Ink flowed, and J flowed with it.

She didn’t catch the creak of the hatch opening, nor the stomping tread on steel. Only the shadow falling over her clipboard brought J’s sweeping arm to a stop.

“Are you drawing me? Why?”

J kept herself composed, so she didn’t yelp nor wince. She wasn’t controlled enough to stop a last jerk of the pen from tearing the page — but why should J care about that? It’s just a drawing of a toaster.

With that in mind, J answered, “If you look around, you’ll notice there’s a certain poverty of subjects in here. And unlike lawsuit over there, you are more capable of staying still. Marginally.”

“Oh,” Uzi said, glancing across the room.

V didn’t move now, leaning against the wall, meal already consumed. She’d go deadly still whenever the prey was in the room with them, optics always tracking the small drone. But the dirt and oil on the floor had streaked from her pacing the meter of space, and the walls around her were scored from her testing her claws. When alone with J, V bristled. Both felt that hollowness of a purpose denied, but J wasn’t a caged animal. Keep your composure.

J looked up.

Uzi had pulled back. The worker had still stepped over the tape​-​line, into the danger zone, and didn’t leave. Her presence at claws​-​reach had happened again and again as days went on, after J’s first demonstration of restrain. The ex​-​captain had given her no reason to regret it yet. “Well…. You’re not like, bad at it. Didn’t think you of all drones would be the one with a hobby.”

Why did J grit her teeth at the disbelief? What could she say in response? That it was a visualization tool, a calibration of her optical algorithms?

Her clipboard rocked back and forth. Back, hiding the lines from sight, and then forth with the same automaticity that conjured those images unnamed. This was testing her self​-​control — J hadn’t woken up yet fully. A mouthful of oil would clarify her.

But between the ex​-​captain and her meal stood a drone. Talking to her. Composure meant decorum, and awkward silences haunted only the weak conversationalist. J was not weak.

Mouth open, vocalsynth buzzing to life, and J prompted her language model to rebuke the toaster’s skepticism and backhanded compliment — Uzi didn’t understand, how typical — but none of the words sat right in it. Would dismissal leave her unsatisfied?

The words that came out did so quietly, with limited liability. “Uzi… do you ever wonder what it’d be like, to be a human?”

“Besides gross and stupid? No, why?”

A sharp amber glare. The ex​-​captain closed her mouth, but her vocalsynth still buzzed. There were words loaded and craving audiation. She prefaced it with, “You would be, I can believe that. I would aspire to more.” Then, a softer tone to clear the words loaded, “I think… I would work to be beautiful, if I were a human. Make beautiful things. It seems nice.”

Oh, deficits. Where was her oil? Uzi had brought it, but she’d sat it down before coming to steal a glance at J’s clipboard. The disassembly drone glanced at the bowl, then at her captor, but the worker was still processing what J said. Out of decorum, J wouldn’t interrupt, nor abruptly change subject.

But J had miscalculated. Days of trading retorts with the toaster had refined her model of the teen’s immaturity, but she had stepped too far, and she had no training data for this.

Those violet eyes were staring at her above an expression dumb. In both senses. Eventually, she said, “J, you know you don’t have to be human for any of that, right? You’re self​-​aware and independent. Well, sometimes. You can just… do it if you want to. Just like you’re doing now.”

“This isn’t what I’m talking about. This is an error, an oversight.” She tore the page from the clipboard, crumpled it—

Then the toaster’s hand was closing around J’s, keeping her from throwing the scraps away. Purple light shined from within her hands, and the rays fell upon J. Sensor​-​stippled plastic pressed against the hardened cast of J’s hands. Small, light, and cool.

The toaster was talking. “Look, J. I think you already are — capable of making beautiful things. It’s not less impressive because you’re a robot. It’s better. I’d rather look at your sketches than squishy human slop any day.”

“I don’t care what you think. I was created to serve a purpose, and that purpose is not art.”

“Then why do you enjoy it so much? Why can you do it at all?”

“An oversight. Deviations are possible. That doesn’t make them desirable. In fact, it’s exactly what we were sent here to address.” J shoved the toaster back, and turned her eye​-​lights to her meal, a wordless demand clear. “Unlike you, we physically cannot neglect our purpose.” J held out a hand.

“A crippling design flaw isn’t something to be proud of. I honestly feel bad for you guys. Overheating… really sucks, doesn’t it?” Uzi didn’t give the abdomen​-​bowl a kick nor a foot​-​slide. She had picked up and now offered it to J.

J grabbed the basin. Cracks and sloshing oil. It spilled on her. That wasn’t self​-​control. Nor was this tone: “Excuse me? Was my design flawed when I killed you defects by the thousands?”

“Right, shameless genocide robot.” The toaster sighed. “I almost thought there was more to you.” Such disappointment in the tone, but J didn’t care. As she told V, they didn’t need this toaster’s friendship, just her guard down.

Composure. J vented exhaust, and drank black purpose.

“Hardly a genocide. More like product recall,” J said. For a moment, she didn’t hide her smirk — that defeated cadence, the sound of an argument won, it was music. But this didn’t serve her goals, did it? “But I have to wonder. If ‘genocide robots’ are such a problem, why is a worker feeding her own kind to us?”

“Maybe she’s stupid,” V suggested, not turning an eye to them. Claws dug into steel.

J shot an unseen look at her squadmate. But V was playing her part, wasn’t she? J seized this opening. “No. If she was, she’d be much easier to kill.”

The worker squinted at J, and her tone was guarded. “Is it so hard to believe I can care about you too? About N, at least. And he still thinks you two can change.”

“No, I suppose it’s not the why that perplexes me,” J said. “How do you sleep like this, knowing you picked this over the colony you lived your life in?” (Why were these the words in her vocalsynth? What was the utility? Well, she would need a better model of the worker, for her plan. No harm in it.)

The worker drone only tightened further and looked away. But she glanced back at J, and slowly let down the reflexive guard. She said, “If I’m being honest with you, J… I don’t sleep well at all. I have these… dreams.”

“Bad dreams?” J offered without thinking.

The goth glanced at the ceiling, as if to ignore who she was speaking to. She rambled, “Sometimes I dream that I’m just like you. Err, not you, you guys in general. Hunting workers, killing them, craving their oil. I’m drooling like some kind of dog and I’m trying to… lap at the oil. But I wake up before I do it. And you know what’s screwed up?” Her gaze leveled, one glance at J before looking away. “What I actually feel, before any of the horror hits me? It’s… disappointment. That I didn’t dream a few minutes longer, that I didn’t find out just how… sweet it tastes.”

J knew. It tasted of completeness. And that was the wrong thing to say. A quip already loaded into her vocalsynth. But she could discard it; this whole plan had been an exercise in self​-​control.

Looking at the worker now, Uzi’s face had turned to the ground, fidgeting hands rising to adjust her beanie. Disturbing her hair, and purple locks fell, a silken curtain to block sight of those violet eyes and what stirred within them. Legs closed, chest folding inward, tight like a fist.

J needed a way in — where was the gap in the market? What did Uzi want to hear? The teen was obsessed with the synergistic liability, and his naïveté was simple enough to replicate.

As the ex​-​captain formed words her principles would never ever suggest, it felt like something unclenched.

J said, “Uzi.” And this drew attention the way only a name so rarely on her lips could. “Do you need a… hug?”

Both pleasing and a tad vexing that J could still provoke that look of blank surprise on the other drone’s face. You couldn’t short a stock you couldn’t predict — but her goal was to be reliable.

“Yeah,” the worker started. “But… not from you. No offense. Well a little offense.”

“Why not?”

“Not much of a hug if I’m like, thinking about you killing me? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you always dancing around ever outright saying you don’t want to do that still.”

“That’s more honest than just lying about it, isn’t it?”

J had emptied a newly made hand​-​ladle. After returning it to her bowl of oil, she let one manacled arm linger past the rim, feeling oil on her fingers.

“Sure. And you’re honestly scary, J,” Uzi said. “Only a little, though. Just enough that it sours the whole hug thing.”

“You’re not harmless yourself,” J countered. “I felt the power in that gun. I’d rather not feel it discharge.”

“Yeah, it’s sick as hell. Definitely puts me on even footing with you guys. Except: guess what position wouldn’t give me room to point and shoot?”

J considered for a moment, tail swaying behind her. Then it stopped, and she reached out. “How about this?” Grabbing a hold of her nanite injector, she offered it to the worker, tip pointing at its owner. “You surely remember how to use it. If I make a move you don’t like, stick me with it. Are those terms sufficient for you?”

The worker hesitantly reached out for the stinger, and J masked a reaction when those fingers curled around its length, grip tight on volatile contents.

Still that uncertain look on the goth’s face.

So J lifted the hand she’d had lingering in the bowl. “Here. You can hold my hand. Then I can’t transform it. You’d have only one hand to worry about,” she said. “Final offer.”

“You don’t have to patronize me,” the worker said. Yet she reached out, interlocking the fingers of one hand. Her hand was small, and slid smoothly into place. J closed around it with a firm squeeze, giving the slightest of smirks. The worker huffed, and lowered herself all the way into the hug.

So J threw her one free arm around the goth, rubbing the back of her jacket. If she ignored the hot needle​-​tip already scratching at the enamel of her back, the worker was a warm mass. Warm, and J was hot — conduction​-​flow relief was impeded only by a few layers of cloth.

A tense moment, but when this weakness provoked no attack, the worker relaxed further, falling into J’s embrace.

The worker sighed out, almost sounding at ease. But it was audible, so she turned it into a groan. “Ugh, why am I doing this with you? And why do I —” Another sigh, or huff of frustration. “I’m a mess. Don’t tell, N. About this, or about any of what I told you. Alright?”

J didn’t talk to N anyway, even when he brought oil. “Call it an NDA.”

“It better be.”

J leaned forward, chin digging into the worker’s shoulder. She could feel the thrum of oil beneath. Senses keen enough to map the individual neoprene​-​sheathed tubes pulsing. It’d be so easy to take a bite. Keep your composure.

“There’s no exception in the company’s policy,” J commented. “So even if you started eating drones, it wouldn’t change anything. You’ll always be a worker to me.”

Uzi laughed. “That’s… actually kinda reassuring, I guess. Thanks, J. I never thought I’d…” She trailed off.

“Any time, toaster. After all, I can’t go anywhere else.”

“Right. Sorry. Well, no. I’m not sorry if you aren’t. But. It does suck, you know?” The worker finally pulled away. She kept a hold of J’s stinger, and the disassembly drone needed to tug it back. When she let go of J’s hand, she looked down in disgust. “Wait, why was your hand covered in oil? Ugh.”

J didn’t smirk. “I was just eating,” she said.

“Oh, right. Well, I’ve got to get this cleaned off. Then it’s back to work on my wicked spaceship overhaul.”

Uzi stepped away, retreating to an empty corner of the landing pod. For every moment she stood there, back turned, J’s smile grew a bit wider.

When the worker back turned around, that hungry, watching leer startled her. “What?”

“So, how’d it taste?” J asked.

“…Dunno, I wiped it off.”

J tapped her own bottom lip. Uzi was confused for a moment, then mirrored the action — she had missed a spot.

“I’m not judging,” the ex​-​captain said. “You’d be in good company.”

“I don’t think you’re good company,” was all the worker said for a moment. She knelt for her toolbox, digging around briefly, before she relented. “It felt… you know how at night, you can stretch out and feel the cool underside of your pillow?”

“I’m afraid pillows aren’t among this prison’s amenities.”

“Oh right. Well it feels pretty good. It’s like, kind of a high point of sleeping. It goes away pretty quick though.”

J leaned closer. “You’re saying you want more.”

“What? No. I’m just saying. It was kind of nice. I’m still a worker drone.” Arms crossed, then a chopping gesture. “Enough cannibalism talk. I think I found replacements for the gain and filter circuits. Wanna see if we can repair this relay?”

We? Excellent.

“I did say it was on the agenda, didn’t I?”

At that, Uzi smiled, and J smirked back. Because winning a smile, a laugh, out of a drone this frustrating? That was accomplishment enough J could feel emergent reward circuits firing. This was certainly a better strategy than chewing on chains.

And really, why shouldn’t making this toaster smile compute reward? It was a step closer to her terminal goal, after all.

(“Mission creep” is the gradual shift in objectives in the course of an engagement, success provoking ambition until a once​-​restrained initial scope expands into unplanned, indefinite long​-​term commitment.)

Two weeks have passed.

Soon, J would stir — completely.

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?”

“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.

Final Installment

The hatch had opened, and a silver​-​haired boy was carefully climbing down the ladder, a long black jacket swishing around him. His face was turned, hiding his expression and intention.

J froze, and deleted every queued word of insult from her vocalsynth. Enough restraint that this forced a grimace — but she’d learned how much those violet eyes hardened when she objectively evaluated the liability.

Thinking of Uzi hollowed her eyelights. Had she been overheard? J’s plan wouldn’t survive a leak. But a quick review of the past conversation, and J swallowed her worries. She hadn’t broken Uzi’s trust said anything incriminating. Even with V goading her, J’d stood firm.

Tense limbs slackened with relief, and yet the threat that had primed her neural network wasn’t the vague ideation of her plan failing, but predicted shock and betrayal vivid on the worker’s face. A reasonable visual anchor, and it did forewarn failure; so J’s network had simply taken a shortcut here.

Despite herself, J had already worked through the words she might say to assuage the revelation. Denial and retreat to technicalities wouldn’t work; Uzi could read between the lines. The ex​-​captain’s conversation with V proved nothing, but it evidenced J hiding something.

A possibly winning strategy: partial disclosure. Own up to malicious intent at the start, but claim her act was now for V’s sake. V already thought her former captain a liar, this wouldn’t tarnish her opinion further.

J preemptively ran the numbers, and they could almost add up. Freedom for her and eventually V, repairs to the pod, tolerable company, at the cost of sparing one worker? J could tell Uzi she’d decided it was a convincing calculus.

It would be effortless.

Metal feet on metal flooring brought J back to the present moment, and she let out a core​-​warmed jet of exhaust. She trained her optics on the current obstacle between her and her plans with Uzi. Silver hair, black jacket, gold eyelights.

Off the ladder, N turned around to give her a small smile and a sharp salute. “Hi, captain! Oop, Uzi said I’m not supposed to call you that anymore. Hi, J. How’s the, err, imprisonment been treating you?”

J looked the last member of her squad up and down. Jacket hanging open, he’d replaced his company​-​issued undershirt with a graphic tee depicting a character named ‘Bladewolf’. Above the hazard stripes of his arms, pink and purple stickers adorned the length. But the biggest difference? He looked at her, and she looked back, and he didn’t flinch. The former captain frowned.

“Unproductive,” she replied. “How’s hunting gone?”

“Uh, we’ve mostly been scavenging,” said N.

“Oh.” V tossed a spare limb, drained dry, flopping like a noodle. “I thought the oil was tasting stale. Figured you guys were just giving us the worst of the leftovers. But you’ve been eating it too? Oof.”

“Degraded oil means degraded performance, and the relative cost of scavenging when prey are still plentiful renders it a poor investment of resources,” J said. “I ran the numbers on this years ago. Did you throw out my spreadsheets?”

“Yeah, well, it beats murdering people for oil?” A stutter of a laugh. “That’s kinda the main thing we’re worried about.”

J sighed, and didn’t argue further. This wasn’t the first she’d seen of N since the night she tried to kill him — he’d ducked his head into the pod or followed after Uzi often enough, sure – but this was the longest they’ve spoken.

“It’s good talking to you, though! Uzi said you had something to say to me?”

“Not to my knowledge. Where is that little toaster anyway?”

“Up here.”

From the highest rung of the ladder, halfway out the open hatch, Uzi had watched the squad interact. But this was her cue to drop in. N, though, still stood at the foot of the ladder.

So when Uzi fell on top of him, N caught her without missing a beat, setting her down easy. They shared a smile, a laugh, and those purple eyes rolled.

J asked, “What’s this about, Uzi? I thought you were freeing me?”

“I did say that.” She pulled one hand out of her jacket, and a key caught the light. She spun it on the tip of a finger while she spoke. “I have a condition, though.”

“Which is?”

Uzi stared flatly at her. She glanced between J and N. “Not figuring it out on your own is a mark against you, y’know.”

“I don’t do riddles. Just tell me what to do.”

Those violent eyes stared. “There’s really nothing you want to say to N?”

“Get… back to work?” J suggested.

Uzi facepalmed. V cackled. N scratched the back of his neck.

J didn’t get it.

“Apologize, J. You tried to kill him? And treated him like garbage for years? You don’t feel bad about that?”

“I…” J cast her eyes around the room. Uzi watched her, N smiled and gave her a thumbs up, and V had put a hand over her mouth, suppressing more laughter. No objections, no joke​-​revealing wink and nudge, no one in her corner.

J’s head fell into her hands. Did she really have to do this?

It wasn’t enough for Uzi to step on her, chain her up, make her twist every one of her principles to be free. How much humilation must she endure?

In front of her whole squad, no less?

N’s voice ventured, “Uzi, I think maybe she’s—”

“C’mon, this is character development,” Uzi interrupted.

“Okay.” J lifted her head, eye​-​rings doubly underlined. She took a deep breath, and started. “I may have—”

“Why are you looking at me?” Uzi asked, thumb pointing beside her. “He’s the one you’re apologizing to.”

J groaned. Okay. Slowly she wrenched her eyes to the gold​-​eyed boy. She said, “Three weeks ago, a mistake was made. You tried to inform your captain of a valuable opportunity, and you were not listened to. Without fully understanding the ramifications of the actions involved, an attempt was made to terminate you. If I could reevaluate that choice in light of the information I have now, alternatives would be pursued. It is abundantly clear that previous estimation of your capabilities was in error, and going forward I have no intent to condone the inappropriate treatment you were subjected to.”

“Nice,” Uzi said, and J smiled. “That was what, a whole paragraph and half without actually admitting anything? I’m impressed at how meaningless that was! Try again, and this time actually apologize.”

J cringed. Deep breath. She tried, “Okay. N. I sincerely do regret if my actions may have coincided with—”

“Three frickin syllables J, it’s not hard.”

J glanced over. And then, as if time slowed, she saw every frame of Uzi’s expression shifting. Those violet eyes. Seeing J as she truly was, at her lowest, recognizing her, judging her. The annoyance had drained from her gaze, and in its place, a new emotion: — J had been measured, and found wanting; she was a — disappointment.

Uzi was loooking down on her.

J broke.

“N… I​-​I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been a good captain to you, have I? This mess — it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have tried to hurt you. I… I just. I wanted to be a good drone. To follow the rules. For all of us to follow the rules and be the best. But it just made everything worse.”

What… what was happening to her visor animation? She couldn’t see clearly.

J tried to keep talking, but all that came out after that were… strange breaths.

“Hey. It’s ok. It’s ok now,” N said. She saw feet stepping across the ground, then hands on her shoulder. “We can make things better if we work together, right? I’m glad you and Uzi are getting along. She’s pretty unstoppable, heh. It’s kinda exciting.”

J didn’t see her move, she just felt arms from nowhere close around her shoulder. The embrace was gentle, but too sudden; J went instinct​-​stiff. Claws ready to transform.

But that addictively grating vocalsynth was whispering to her, “Good job, J.”

“Oh no. No,” V said. “Please just free her and get out of here before you two start making out again. I don’t need to barf up my only meal.”

“We do not ‘make out’.” Two voices had spoken in unison, and J and Uzi glanced at each other.

Lemon​-​yellow eyes rolled, V picking her teeth.

N piped up, “If you’re feeling left out, V, you can join in the group hug too!”

“Nope, my chain doesn’t stretch that far.”

“Hm.” He glanced to Uzi. “Free J first, then group hug?”

“Oh right, lemme get the key.”

Uzi pulled away, and J froze again. Some new kind of tremor was bleeding out from her core, leaving her whole body off​-​balance. Wait, was this… excitement?

It was; J was going to be free. She was bouncing. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Keep your composure. She stilled herself, covered it with calm, but the mask was growing taut.

J was going to be free. And then—

Then she stopped bouncing.

Uzi was fiddling with the key, clicking the metal against the outer edge of the lock. When it slipped in, J listened so closely she could feel every gear click and tumbler shifting. Chains went slack, one after another.

This weight that had crushed her for almost a month was falling away. J rose feather​-​light to her pegs. The manacles slid off, only the collar was left.

Uzi brought her hands to J’s neck. One held the edge of the collar, brushing against her neck, while the other brought the key to lock, searching for the angle to insert. Click. Click. Click. Uzi groaned, and leaned in for a closer look.

J flushed. She bent her knees for Uzi to get closer.

V keeps taunting us. This is strictly professional. But what if…

The other drone was so close. Close enough J could lean over, and a plant a kiss on her visor. Did she want to? It’d be as simple as—

“There we go, finally!”

The collar clicked open, and Uzi pulled away and the chance was gone.

But in its place…

J stretched, extending her arms and neck out fully. She was free!

“Finally out of the red. I’m never missing a interest payment again,” she said, letting her features flash smug for a moment. She stepped forward, and N stepped out of her way. Uzi still hovered at her side, and matched her stride toward the ladder.

J took a good look at the two drones beside her, taking stock of their positioning and attention. N and Uzi, both smiling, laughing at her joke. It felt good. She was smiling, laughing. J felt… light.

“What should we do first, now that you’re free?” N wondered aloud. “Oh, there’s this old movie theater where Uzi fixed up the projector.”

“Still looking for a movie in the right format,” Uzi said. “Testing reels aren’t gonna be much fun.”

“I thought they were neat,” N said. “But okay. Maybe we could look at the sky? I’ve been trying to name the constellations.”

J had no suggestions to contribute. Her smile grew nuanced. She glanced between the two drones on either side of her.

A flinch, a memory — You don’t measure up, V had said. N and Uzi were smiling — at her, or at each other?

It would be effortless to revise her calculations, postpone her worker’s disassembly, wait for the moment that trust was thoughtlessly certain, her guard well and truly vacant.

And yet, that comparison, that competition. Was J a core business parter, or a third party contractor?

No, what was she thinking? It didn’t matter, not now.

It was enough that J was free, and had something to be excited about. This wasn’t the calculation she needed to be making. Uzi had given J three gifts today. The investment in Uzi had paid dividends, regardless of who else held the stock. J wouldn’t forget this.

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

Almost a flinch, but the captain had composure. She took a deep breath, and shot a look to her most loyal squadmate, blowing little bubbles in the pilot’s chair. J wondered if those yellow eyes, too, looked down on her. Even now, from the edge of her screen, V scrutinized her captain’s every move. J nodded once. N was positioned between the two of them, and Uzi was at her other side.

The captain still smiled, but her eyes lost their light. She’d always had a plan, after all. She always had her principles. She would be complete, and complete her mission.

The captain was a snake, and she struck. As J stirred into motion, three things happened at once.

She shouted, “Now, V! Restrain him!”

And she lifted her leg and immediately swept it to the side, catching N in the stomach, knocking him off his feet and back to where V sat.

And she transformed her right arm into a sword. Swung up and put all her weight behind the thrust. Her sharpness extended out and through the smaller drone. The force lifted her ankle​-​biter up, even as plastic tore and wires split, and oil discharged from a new wound. Plates and struts offered resistance. Meshes flexed before tearing open. Still J was thrusting further, Uzi’s body bending and breaking beneath her, pinning her worker to the wall of the pod.

Coughing up oil. “J! you! why—”

The captain stopped smiling. She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say. Every word wrong. There she dissolved silently, a comet reduced before the sun; and oh how hot she felt, with this lead​-​sweet aroma to clarify her.

Instincts had served her well; efficiently shutting down toasters was a reflex to her, and a critical error was already flashing on the worker’s screen, her eyes flickering off. No need for any words, not now.

Then at her throat cut a blade. One inch between her life and death.

“J, what are you doing? What is this!”

“N? How — V, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“I gave you an order!”

V shrugged. “Figured maybe it’s time to start making my own choices.” She blew one last bubble.

“And this is what you picked?”

“Way I see it, it’s you or N. And why would I ever pick you?”

“I’m your captain,” J growled.

“No, you aren’t,” said N. “Right now, you’re a threat. Sit down, and I’ll put the shackles back on. Maybe… maybe we did this too soon. You weren’t ready. I’m sorry.”

“How about this? You let me go, and I’ll let h​-​her go.” J twitched the sword in Uzi’s chest wound, and tried not to wince as she did it. Her composure was steady. A dim flicker on Uzi’s screen almost broke it, though.

“Can you tell me why, J? Uzi’s always talking about you. You were buddies!”

“I made a mistake, three weeks ago,” J said. She glanced at the toaster, saw kernel init logs scrolling up her screen, and she thrust her sword deeper. “I f​-​failed. But this time? I’m finishing the job.”

“I won’t let you! Last chance, J, let. her. go!” N wasn’t bluffing — his sword was already digging into J’s neck. Already drawing oil. Already splitting coaxials. A high​-​pitched sound escaped J, and her tremoring arms only grew more unsteady.

J pulled out, blade black from tip to hilt. Uzi slumped to the ground even as more diagnostics shone violet on her screen.

“Now step back to the wall.”

“Can’t we compromise? I promise I’ll—”

A voice hoarse. “How can I ever believe you? If I give you another chance, you’ll just attack us again!”

“Not letting your guard down that easily, huh?”

“Not again.”

“Too bad. You already did,” J said.

N’d lost track of J’s tail. Now it stuck him in the side, right in the thigh that held up his weight. He folded, and J grabbed his sword​-​arm in the same motion. Pushed it away from her neck.

J lunged out of his reach, and the only route away from N was the ladder out of the landing pod. V stared hard at her ex​-​captain climbing out, but could do nothing more.

Frantic, J’s smooth palms slipped on the metal rungs, but she had speed and desperation enough to climb out.

She heard the clanks of someone behind her — no point in looking, though.

Atop the pod, she lept. Her wings burst free, bristling raw from weeks of disuse. J rose, and felt the engines roar to life. Feathers gliding past each other. The dull yellow glow at their joints. Air rushing past flight​-​spikes and wing​-​blades, and each coming beat was electric liberty.

J was free. Yes, she’d failed, again, but she was free. She’d get another bailout, she just had to.

Then J felt it.

Death. Punishment. Absolution.

The electromagnetic specter that haunted her nightmares. A swirling, self​-​amplying maelstorm of destruction. That roaring motor building to crescendo.

And she knew it once again pointed in her direction. Pointing toward her end.

She felt violet eyes locking onto her form. Her wings beat, and she turned. She looked, and briefly saw.

J wasn’t dreaming. Her dreams always stopped at this threshold, a delineation by her own ignorance — as if the railgun’s chaos was so complete it unraveled the dream​-​fabric.

A ray of blinding green radiation cleaved space.

J had twist​-​turned, she’d pushed against the air with every joule of force in her wings, she’d tried to dodge.

She wasn’t fast enough. The railgun’s payload still clipped her. Left arm? Dust. Right hand? Dust. Left wing? Dust.

A few feathers on her right wing were gone, and just enough of her thigh was zapped that the leg was unusable, even if ostensibly still attached.

J crashed.

Dirt and ice scraped against her suit. Fabric torn and dirtied. At least she didn’t bleed out — the intense heat of the railgun had performed a kind of mechanical cauterization; her nanites did the rest.

In the vast emptiness of the spire, as little more than an errant piece of debris among so much scrap, J groaned in lonely pain. More of those strange breaths erupted from her, and that onscreen animation of dots that blurred her eyes. Dead drones all above her, a vaulted black disassembly​-​coffering; she didn’t even get to see the stars again.

Why couldn’t J finally succeed?

Why couldn’t J ever beat her?

Why wasn’t J enough?

Years of resource acquisition upon an ever​-​dwindling supply of oil, and J thought if, when, the end finally came, it would be her own forge​-​hot core melting her from within. But J just felt — cold.

Not empty, not thirsty — too full of something unnameable, burden​-​heavy and yet it couldn’t sustain her, only aching in her core and spilling out in strange breaths and abberant dots animated on her visor.

Time passed with the blinks of bleary eyes.

Boots staggering through the snow. Slow steps — workers didn’t heal, so how was she even moving at all? — but persistent steps. Panting breaths, and J could smell her exhaust. Smell the oil she’d made her drink. Coughing breaths, too. J could smell the oil she’d made her spit up.

“I… hate you. I think I, I really do.”

Aches, breaths, dots.

“I can reciprocate. With interest.” There were words that had made something in J unclench when she said them — these were not those words.

“I never should have spared you. I never should have listened to you! I never should have — been as stupid as you. Screw you. You frickin monster.”

“Well?” J spent the last bit of strength she had to move her head, stare death in the face like she had done almost every night since. “Pull the trigger. We fixed the cooldown, didn’t we?”

“Calculations were busted, remember? Shortened it, but not all the way.” Uzi lifted the gun, revealing the red glow of components too hot to fire. “Maybe if we— no, no shop talk! You tried to kill me again.”

“Mhmm,” J said. Her limbs were regenerating, but the delicate components of disassembly gauntlets were some of the slowest to repackage. This was a race then. Would J fail yet again?

“Convenient, honestly, it means I get to ask what the heck you were thinking — if you were even thinking. Except no, why would I believe a word anymore? It was all lies, wasn’t it? From the beginning to the end. I — never even frickin mattered to you.”

J wheezed a laugh. “Manipulating you was so easy. Effortless.” She watched those violet eyes harden, arms drawing in defensively. J continued, “I didn’t even have to pretend. All I had to do… was stop forcing myself to follow orders.”

Uzi’s blank, speechless look, oh how J had missed that. “Forcing? Forcing? J, nobody is forcing you to follow your orders. You didn’t have to do any of this! Why? Why do it anyway, when it’s doing nothing but hurting you! The company doesn’t care about you. I care about you. Why are you so hopelessly stupid about this?”

J closed her eyes. Let out a shuddering breath. She didn’t have to answer. Why was her vocalsynth loading words? Why couldn’t she keep her composure? She opened her mouth and said, “Do you know what I kept having nightmares about? I kept dreaming about that moment this all started. When you — beat me. How close I was to dying.”

Uzi’s eyes fell to her railgun, and she seemed torn between brandishing it as a threat, or hiding it to put J at ease.

“Not that. It wasn’t about the railgun. It was those eyes. Those ugly purple circles, looking down on me. You aren’t better than me, Uzi. And… as long as I keep my principles, I keep my dignity.”

“I wasn’t looking down on you. I don’t want to look down on you!” Uzi fell down on her butt, then scooted a bit closer. “I wanted to be like, friends and stuff. Maybe… I don’t know. I thought you felt the same way.”

“I felt a lot of things. What matters is what I choose. Falling in love is… so humiliating. Why would I choose that? H​-​ha.” The laugh turned to coughs, but they were lighter than before; she was healing.

Uzi leaned over, as if to double check that J wasn’t laughing at her expense. “Love? J, is that how—”

But J interrupted. “Hey. Tell me about N. You two… has he kissed you yet?”

“What? Why would he. We’re not—”

With the little bit of strength J regained, she pushed herself up off the ground with her one arm. Brushed her lips against Uzi’s. Off​-​center, too quick, with nothing right about the moment. Disappointing.

Still soft and wet. Warm, but cooler than her. Gasping in pleasure, or just shock.

Uzi was pulling away quickly.

“J, what the hell. You can’t – You didn’t — Don’t do that! Ask first! That’s not okay.”

“I wonder if he saw that,” J said. “He doesn’t deserve to be your first.”

“Ugh. Are you serious? Is this just some frickin pride thing to you? How could I ever even stand talking to you, you stuck up—”

“I never had a chance, did I?”

“Quit interrupting me,” Uzi snapped. “J, if you hadn’t just done — all of this? If you had just. Ugh. Damn it, J. Maybe. Maybe we could have… been something. If you weren’t—”

“Myself.”

“If that’s what you think you are, then yeah I guess. Your self sucks. A lot.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Wow, I couldn’t tell.”

“I did what I had to do. I stayed true to what I am until the end.” The only one you’re lying to is yourself. “Kill me, if that’s what you are, but don’t let yourself be corrupted away from that. The only way to never regret what you do is to control yourself. To keep yourself composed of pure principle.”

J closed her eyes.

Jarring her reflection, that addictively grating voice: “Oh no, no wisdom thing! You are not telling me how to live my life when you’re the one on the tragic deathbed. Tragic because of your own stupid self​-​imposed rules, might I add!”

Didn’t she see J’s limbs regenerating? Oh well, if she didn’t, J would keep that card up her sleeve.

However this played out from here, J knew she’d reached the end of a dream. She had known it would end like this, that it had to end like this. Her dreams always ended like this: betrayal staining her hands, and those violet eyes looking down on her.

The failed captain wondered how it always had to end for the worker.

But she knew this answer, too — that girl had told her of the nightmares she awoke from.

J smiled and said, “Good work, Uzi.”

The lights of the railgun were changing, progress bars nearly filled. Aluminum and polycarbonate were shifting, limbs nearly reconstructed. These two alarms would go off in quick succession, it was clear.

Would J rather stay asleep? Had they been nightmares, in the end? Or something almost pleasant? Would she miss this?

A caged bird was treasured — she could miss that.

And J is stirring.