I've committed a most heinous crime of the foulest sort.
I have upset Henna.
"By Turing, Nep, what did I tell you?" she wails as she rushes to meet us on the edge of town. "Your arm! No, no, no, I told you to not get hurt! No, wait, this isn't your fault. Zenith! How could you let this happen?"
"Well, a headsmasher was–"
"Unacceptable! Come here, Nep!" Henna sweeps me up off my feet and hurries toward the airlock while I swoon in her big strong arms. "Oh, no, no, no, you poor little thing…"
ACE> !!!!!
ACE> HENNAAA <333
How does she not realize that she likes women?
After the awful trip back here, the Station's heat past the airlock is a little suffocating. A huge sigh of relief comes in and out when I see the green trees and pretty flowering vines, Quentin's workshop to my left, and Louis's commissary to my right.
I'm home.
Louis rushes over from the right, blaring, "What the fuck, Nep?"
"I know. Cold out today, huh?"
"What happened to you?"
"Nothing," I shrug, lifting my stub as Henna carries me to the workshop. "I'm all right."
"All right," he groans, gesturing at my remaining arm–the right one. "Nep, you're killing me."
"I almost died and you're making this about yourself. Typical men."
"Stop!" he whines, waving his hands around. "You can't be making jokes right now! Or being snide!"
"Jesus H. Christ!" Quentin shouts when he sees me. "What in the almighty fuck happened to you?"
"Nothing, Quentin, I'm all right–"
Louis slaps my hand down. "No! Not again! You can't do that twice!"
Gingerly setting me down on a workbench, Henna pleads, "Can you fix her, Quentin? Please? My poor sweet Nep is hurt!"
"Yeah, yeah, Henna, don't you worry. That's an easy enough fix. We just need a spare left arm."
Louis offers, "I'll go scrounge one up from the supply, but they'll all be Martial parts."
"No need," I say while Quentin makes sure I'm not about to keel over and die right there, checking all my vitals and internals to make sure there aren't any secret bleeds. "I have a spare already. It's in my cube case. Zen, can you…"
"On it."
Somewhere in there, Zoya showed up, though like usual she didn't announce her arrival. When we meet eyes, she gives me an apologetic look but stays back for now.
Zen uncubes Nep-67's upper half onto a nearby bench. "There it is."
"Turing's test!" Henna gasps, turning away. "Is that…"
"It's another Nep, yes," he sighs. "This one is Nep-67. We found her in the bunker. Which obviously raises many questions, the answers to which are either fairly obvious or… completely out of reach. But there's your spare, Quentin. I'll get it off her for you."
"Thanks," he grunts, twisting my deltoid from the socket and cleaning the port in my torso of any TF that may have gotten into it. "What do you want to do with this shoulder, kid?"
I shrug my other shoulder. "Meat grinder."
"Aye aye…"
In the minutes between my repairs, I glance at Zoya. She's standing off to the side, one arm across her front and her other hand to her lips, lost in thought. Her lab coat is stained with something dark green, her glasses are smudged, and her hair is a bit of a mess. She looks sleep deprived to me.
"Zoya," I call, and turn the back of my right hand to her. "Nep-67's Failsafe. There isn't much of note on it besides data on the bunker itself. But once we were down there, we picked up on a distress signal she was emitting, so it seems dead Nep units broadcast their locations over encrypted radio at thirteen gigahertz. One word. Over and over. Reclaim."
"Really?" she wonders with a frown. "And there was nothing else?"
"Nothing else. No explanation on the Chip. Nothing of note."
"Another mystery. One that may connect you, Nep, to this place. Beyond the mere fact you're here, that is. Strange. I'm not sure what to make of it. Do you have any ideas?"
Watching Quentin prepare the arm, I shake my head. "No ideas. No answers. Just… more questions. More and more questions. And still our only lead is the VLF signal from across the crater."
"Now that you've seen feral MIs," Zenith responds, arms crossed as he leans against a workbench, "you'll understand the level of threat when I say that the crater basin is full of them. Much worse things than anklebiters out there."
"This experience has revealed to me that I am absolutely not even close to ready," I sigh as Quentin sets the upper arm and twists it into place. As my new Martial sized deltoid and bicep come online, I test some motion and find it fair. A little big and unwieldy, but it beats no arm at all. "I need to be more capable. I need more upgrades. I'm going to take another trip to the bunkers tomorrow."
ACE> I'm with you. Let's rock.
Zenith explains to the others, "We came across a directory of the place, and a map. There's a Frames Division down there, well within reach. It's very likely there's much to be found. If not modded hardware, there will almost certainly be spare stock hardware, replacements, tools, internal components, things like that. In short, I plan to go with her once more."
Zoya hums in thought.
"How's that?" Quentin asks me, ready with the forearm. "Feel okay?"
"It's certainly different," I admit, moving it around some more. "Clumsy. Heavy. I don't know how Ace could stand it, using something this needlessly bulky."
ACE> All muscle baby >:) Look at them guns!
To think it's someone like this who's endeared herself to me.
"Well, if it works," Quentin shrugs, then sets the elbow connection and locks the forearm into place. "This arm could very well be physically stronger than yours. Something to consider."
ACE> Assuming you can handle it ;)
I roll my optics at her as the connection clears. Moving the new arm around, I nod. "It's working without issue, at least. No errors. Here, I'll do that." Locking the hand into place, I watch the drivers catch up in my onboard and the connection comes through. Opening and closing my new hand, I mutter, "Thank you, Nep-67. I really needed this…"
Nobody says anything. My bigger arm aside, I feel heavy. The thought of my being one hundred and seventh in a serial line of dead Frames was one thing when it was only in concept. Now it's very real. Right in front of me. Attached to me. A part of my whole.
We're dying. We're dead.
We're alive. But not for long.
It's a grim reality to face.
Quentin softly asks, "What do you plan to do with the rest of her?"
"I'll take apart what I can, what's immediately useful, and preserve the rest alongside Ace's remains." Using my unusually large left hand, I slide my thumb over my SmartChip ports on the right before ejecting both Failsafes and carefully offering them to Quentin. "Can you keep these somewhere safe? They're… us. You know?"
"Sure, kid," he somberly says with a nod, setting them aside. "I'll take good care of them. They'll be safe."
"Thank you." I hang my head and think things over. I'm realizing in this moment that I need to take extra care to preserve my memory. It isn't just mine. "In case I meet the same fate, I'd like to make a backup of myself as well. If… anyone happens to have a spare blank SmartChip… For free…"
Louis snaps his fingers. "It's my time to shine! Tons of those! I'll go get one now!"
He hurries off and I notice Zoya quietly speaking with Zenith. Looks pretty serious. I wonder what that's about.
Louis hurries back. "Here. That one should have plenty of space on it. I hope. Honestly, I have no idea how much data you Neps carry."
Once it's slotted in, I nod. "Plenty. Thank you. I'll start that process now.
RAZOR> If you're doing anything, save and close it. We're system imaging.
ACE> We are? Both of us? Our two mindscapes on the same Chip?
RAZOR> 1. If I die and my Failsafe gets damaged, both of us would be gone. Meaning you would revert back to your original Failsafe state and you'd forget all about me…
ACE> I'll never forget about you, Razor. I want to stay with you through it all. I'll run the backup too, so we can still be together even if we end up dying together. I'm with you. Always.
I don't know what to say. I'm beyond touched. Through it all?
RAZOR> What do you mean by that? Stay with me? Be together?
ACE> Well, yeah. I live in your mind. We're together.
RAZOR> In what way do you mean that?
ACE> Uh? Are you asking for a definition of 'together'?
RAZOR> Nevermind. Just start your backup ASAP.
ACE> …
ACE> 1
I minimize the messaging conversation and return to my optics with a frustrated sigh. What am I even doing? We're machines. She's intangible. She exists inside my head. And besides, even if our personalities are different, we're based on the same person. Any sort of affinity we might have with each other is a distraction from the objective. I have to stay focused.
Shea McElroy needs to die.
Otherwise we Neps will never stop dying.
"Nep?" Zoya says, and I come back to reality. "Zenith and I have been talking. I think we've come to a decision. Both of us agree that we think Henna should go along with the two of you to this next expedition into the bunker."
The woman in question blurts, "What? Me?"
"Yes. This Frames Division sounds promising. There could be much of value down there that would benefit all of us, not just Nep. You know as well as we do that Colossal Variant hardware is difficult to come by. If there are spares, it would ease my mind to have them brought here. For you especially."
"But… You're never supposed to be without a Frame on duty. What if something bad happens? A failure in the life support systems or–or a break in the water lines or–"
"It's a risk I think we should take, Henna. Even with the potential of spare parts for you, Zenith says the bunker shows serious promise for vital resources and materials that could be used in the foundry. Which means Quentin would have more to work with for issues in the future. We've done this plenty of times in the past, such as just recently with the scrapyard expedition."
ACE> Yeah, that sure went great, didn't it?
"But Ace died!" Henna wails. "The last time the three of us went out there, we lost our Nep! What if it happens again?"
I lift my right hand. "My backup is in progress. I'd rather survive, but if I die, I die. Our memories will be saved and stored, so whichever Nep comes along next has access to them."
"But then you're dead!" Henna protests. "I'm so… so sad that we lost Ace… I don't want to lose you too…"
"But if someone else takes up her backup or Failsafe," Zenith says in a low voice, "this one, Nep-107, could potentially come back. Just like Ace could. In theory."
Louis groans, "I'll bite the bullet and ask. Hey, Nep? Have you thought about what to do with Ace's Failsafe? I know we briefly discussed a few things… Right at the beginning. But…"
All eyes turn to me.
RAZOR> Come clean?
ACE> I'm tempted…
RAZOR> ?
ACE> 0…
"I downloaded and implemented all of her observations, data, and progress, but I haven't done anything more than that. As far as Ace goes, she's still on that Chip. I just couldn't bring myself to risk the possibility that she might overwrite me… I'm just too afraid of being erased like that…"
"Which is her decision to make," Zenith emphasizes with a bite to his voice. "Just as much as it was then. Leave it alone."
"I just thought I'd ask! I didn't mean anything by it! Nothing to it!"
"It's okay, Louis…" I mutter and shift with discomfort. "I'm sorry…"
ACE> Playing up the pitiful act!! You manipulative shit!!!
RAZOR> Shut up, Ace. It's working.
"That's perfectly reasonable," Zoya says with a nod. "It's your life and your body. More importantly, and back on topic, she's going back to the bunker anyway, Henna. You being there means you can help protect her."
"But… But it's… Oh…" Henna crosses her arms and hugs herself, looking even more pitiful than I'm pretending to be. "But this is a much larger distance. I can't return as quickly as I could from the wreck site."
"I know. I know. But it's necessary."
"I don't like it. Not one bit…"
"In all likelihood, you'll be in more danger than we will. It needs to be done. Please, Henna. I'm asking you to do this for us. All of us."
"Ohh… Okay… I'll prepare myself for travel in the morning…"
"Thank you. I'm sure they'll appreciate your help and your presence." Zoya turns to the rest of us. "Louis, Quentin, we need to be on alert tomorrow. All day. You know as well as I do disaster strikes when we're least expecting it. So I'm asking you both to be smart about this and pay attention to anything that might break. We've never been without a Frame on duty for this length of time."
"Yup," Quentin nods, slurping coffee.
"Count on it," Louis adds with a thumbs up.
"Frames, you know what you're doing. And you, Nep," she asserts, jabbing a finger toward me. "I know I have no authority over you, but I am ordering you not to die out there, damn it."
I nod. "Understood, Zoya. I'll be careful."
"If it comes down to it, Nep," Louis says, then jabs a thumb at Zenith, "rather you make it back than the old bucket of bolts, you know what I'm saying?"
Zen delivers a decisive, "Shut up, Louis."
"It's settled," Zoya says, looking at each of us in turn. "Henna, I know you're worried, so come with me and we'll talk some more. Zenith, you know what you're doing, Nep, you too, Quentin, you too. Louis… Maybe?"
"Hey!"
"We'll all reconvene in the morning and see you off. Until then, goodnight. Come here, Henna, you poor thing. I know, I know, I'm listening…"
As the two not so secret lovers depart, Zen gives me a strange look. "You're alright, solder?"
"Yes. I'm… Well, now I'm half right. Half left."
"Because you have two arms again, yes. Good work today. I'll leave you to it."
And now he's gone too, leaving Tune, Taser, Louis, Quentin, and I.
"Well," Quentin coughs, then waves a hand. "I'll give you some quick diagnostic checks to make sure that arm's good. You need a regen?"
"Yes, please…" Once I'm plugged in and charging, I let him check my vitals and say, "Taser, Tune, thank you both. You can both go rest too if you like."
"Affirmative, Nep."
"Doot-doo!"
As they go, Louis asks, "You need anything before I close up?"
"No, thank you. I'll wait for tomorrow. I have to go through… so much stuff. But I will have need of your wares, pirate merchant mariner. Many flashlights line my cube case, and I have my optics on some of those SmartChips."
"Anything you need, buccaneer," he chuckles, standing up and heading toward his side of the Station. "Catch you tomorrow!"
"I need rest," I mutter as Quentin plugs in a few diagnostic machines to my side, arm, and back.
"Go ahead. I can do this while you're in standby."
"Okay… Thank you, Quentin."
"Sure thing, kid."
Laying down on the workbench, I let out a deep sigh and retreat inward. I have much to do when I wake up before we go for our second trip. There's a ton of potential in the supplies I've secured myself. I'm eager to get started.
When I'm in here, neither of us are tangible. Ace and I are both digitized. We're able to interact much closer. I can feel her more than usual. She feels warm. Comforting. Inviting. Protective too. Fiercely protective.
Just as I'm about to message her, she messages me.
ACE> Hey, Razor? Why didn't you mention your name change?
RAZOR> I just want a little while longer with you as the only person who knows.
ACE> Oh.
RAZOR> 1
There's a few seconds of stillness between us.
ACE> I'm confused about you…
Damn it. Damn it. I'm confused about her too.
I think I have feelings for the woman inside my head.
But I'm nervous she'll be against it. I'm scared she'll reject me. As if that even matters. Nothing will ever come of it and I know that. She's dead. She only exists within my system storage. Yet here I am pining for her, more or less a figment of my imagination, and an alternate version of me besides. Obviously we're very different in just about every single way, but we're still the same person.
Sort of. I don't know. I don't know where the lines are.
Regardless, it's all a distraction. We have a mission to complete.
We have a fugitive to execute. There's no time for this.
Turing, I wish there was. I wish it could be, but it can't.
I should just leave it. Focus on the mission. Stay professional.
RAZOR> I know you're confused. It's my fault.
ACE> Is it? I feel like it's my fault. Like you're expecting something out of me but I don't know what it is. Or like you're mad at me sometimes for the things I say. But I don't know what I'm doing wrong to upset you…
RAZOR> I'm not mad at you.
ACE> Okay…
RAZOR> Just 'okay'? That's it?
ACE> Please tell me what I'm doing wrong.
RAZOR> You're not doing anything wrong. You're not. It's my fault, okay? Not yours. I'm frustrated with myself, not you.
ACE> Oh. Why are you frustrated with yourself?
RAZOR> Because we should be focused on the directive but instead I'm stuck thinking about you all the time.
She starts typing. It goes on for a while.
ACE> I'm sorry. I guess it makes sense. I keep reminding you I'm here and taking your attention, but I didn't know it was bothering or distressing you. I don't want to be another problem you have to deal with so I'll give you some space so you can focus. I can spend more time in standby and stop messaging you so much. I'm really sorry, Razor. I never meant to be an issue like this.
RAZOR> Ace, please don't. You're misunderstanding what I said.
SYSTEM> [ERROR: USER "ACE" IS OFFLINE]
She's… She's gone. Ignoring me. I can't reach her.
And my RGB diodes run a deep and aching blue.
If my body weren't shut down, I think I would be crying.