The desert stretched like a wound that never closes. Light pours across the dunes until they shimmer like water, shifting in the heat. Every step I take leaves a brief mark before the wind erases it. The silence feels almost deliberate, like the world is waiting for something. I had been walking for what felt like an eternity.
"Direction of travel?" Cadence asks. Her tone sounds too bright, the kind of forced cheer that usually means she is hiding something.
"Anywhere that isn't back toward the hermit or the sentry," I say. "That direction didn't end well last time."
"Technically, it did. You are still walking."
"Walking is just falling forward slowly."
"An optimistic definition of survival."
I keep my gaze on the horizon. The dunes rise and fall, no end in sight. "Optimism is overrated."
"Noted. I will remove it from your emotional dictionary."
"You already removed patience."
"I optimized it."
I blink, and my HUD flickers. For a moment, the entire world splits into gridlines. Then a soft ping draws my attention.
"Map function online," Cadence says. "That must be the new interface calibrating. Look."
A grid expands in front of me, stretching far beyond the dunes. Faint orange lights pulse at the edges of the display. One blinks brighter than the others, steady and rhythmic.
"Signal detected. Approximate distance: 4.3 kilometres."
"What kind of signal?"
"Beacon pattern. Old military frequency. Very old."
"Still broadcasting?"
"Yes. Weak, but consistent."
"Let me guess. You want to check it out."
"Curiosity is a logical function."
"I call it trouble."
"Trouble and curiosity often share a border."
I sigh. "Fine. But if this is another death trap, I'm blaming you."
"Of course. I am already used to it."
The dunes shift beneath my boots as I head toward the blinking marker. The landscape begins to change. Buried shapes break through the sand, corners of concrete, skeletal beams jutting from the earth like ribs. The faint outline of structures becomes visible.
An outpost. Or what's left of one.
Cadence lowers her voice. "Power signatures detected. Minimal, but not zero."
"That shouldn't be possible. Nothing should be alive out here."
"Alive is a flexible term."
I approach slowly. The outpost consists of three buildings, each half-collapsed, their roofs torn open to the sun. Old signage clings to the walls in faded paint. The ground near the entrance is disturbed. My HUD blinks of faint echoes, that mimics movement.
"Footprints," Cadence observes.
"How recent?"
"Less than 24 hours, hard to determine in current environment."
I crouch and touch the sand. The prints are human, maybe a dozen or more. Some small, some heavy with the weight of gear. I straighten slowly.
"Cadence," I whisper. "We are not alone."
"Often is the case."
The air feels thicker now, sound muffled by the weight of heat. I move between the walls, stepping carefully. The corridor inside smells of metal, dust, and something faintly burnt. The HUD tries to track the interior, but static cuts through the feed.
"Signal interference," Cadence mutters. "Some form of residual field. Could be an error."
"Or someone wants to keep this place hidden."
"I prefer the first option."
"Me too."
A sound breaks the silence. Metal tapping metal. Quick. Intentional. I freeze, head tilting. Cadence is already calculating angles, light refracting off the edges of my visor.
"Iris. Movement, 30 meters east."
I start to turn.
A shot hits the wall beside me, sending a spray of concrete into the air. The blast rings through my skull.
"Hostile fire detected," Cadence snaps. "Multiple contacts."
I run. Instinct more than thought. Sand explodes around my legs as another round strikes near my feet. My HUD scrambles, overlaying trajectories I cannot follow fast enough.
"Left," Cadence shouts. "Find cover!"
I slide behind a crumbling support beam as another shot slams through the sandbag pile beside me. I glance out. Shadows move across the dunes, three, maybe four figures, silhouettes shimmering in the heat.
"Cadence, identify."
"Organic life signs. Human. Armed. Tactical spacing consistent with trained personnel."
"So, not our average Joe."
"No. And not friendly."
"Wonderful."
The next burst hits closer. I push off and sprint, the mechanical leg driving deeper into the sand than the human one. My balance staggers with each step. The HUD flares red, warning of impact proximity. A bullet grazes my side, tearing sparks from the plating.
Cadence's voice sharpens. "Do not stop."
"I wasn't planning on it."
Another burst behind me. The sound cracks like thunder. I vault a low wall, stumble, then roll behind the next section of collapsed structure. My breath catches even though I do not need it.
The HUD flickers again. Lines of code flash across my vision. A new set of symbols appears, faint and pulsing.
[TACTICAL MODE AVAILABLE]
[PERMANENT INITIATION REQUIRED]
[ENGAGE ?]
"Cadence," I gasp. "What is that?"
"New interface feature. Possibly auto-defence subroutine."
"Possibly?"
"We are about to find out."
I nod once. "Do it."
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the world sharpens. The air slows, every grain of sand visible as it spins through sunlight. My movements feel lighter, faster, sharper. Targets glow faint red on the map, identifying each potential threats location.
"Cadence, what did you do?"
"I unlocked the combat sub-routine. It interprets threat levels and trajectory predictions. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"I'll appreciate it if we survive."
"Optimism returning. Excellent."
I move again, using the interface to track their movement. Two flank left, one right. The third climbs higher ground. The system draws their positions in thin white lines. I wait until the one on the ridge reloads, then bolt for the doorway ahead.
A shadow cuts across me before I reach it. A voice shouts.
"Stop! Don't move!"
I skid to a halt. Five figures stand in front of me now, half-hidden behind rusted barricades. Human. All armed. They wear scavenged armour patched with old military insignia. Helmets, goggles, dust-stained faces. The leader steps forward, rifle steady.
"Don't move, machine!"
"Do I engage ?" I mutter. "We could easily take them."
Cadence whispers, "Recommendation: compliance. Statistically safer than bullets."
I raise my hands, the servos in my left arm whining softly. My voice comes, first thing I can think of. "I come in peace."
Cadence trying to hold it together "they're not aliens."
"Then stand still," the leader cuts in. "And don't talk."
More shapes emerge from behind the walls. 8, maybe 10 in total. They fan out, closing the circle. My HUD flickers again, identifying weapons, trajectories, names marked UNKNOWN.
One of them mutters, "It's got eyes. Look at that."
Another: "You think it's a new hunter type?"
"Tech is too old. Maybe one of those old prototype projects, I heard rumours...."
"Shut up," the leader says. "Eyes front."
Cadence murmurs, "Heart rates elevated. They are afraid."
"Good," I whisper. "Means they won't shoot first."
"Or they'll shoot all at once."
I swallow hard. "Thanks for the encouragement."
"Anytime."
The circle tightens. The leader steps closer, studying me through the visor. His weapon doesn't waver. "You're going to tell us who built you."
I meet his stare. "I was hoping you could tell me."
The silence that follows is long and heavy. The only sound is the wind dragging sand across steel.
"Bring her in," he says finally. "If it twitches, drop it."
Hands grab my arm. The new one whirs faintly as someone tries to twist it free. The grip is human, strong but uncertain.
Cadence hums quietly. "I think they are deciding whether to keep you or take you apart."
"Tell them to wait until I'm ready."
I exhale and let them push me forward. The heat settles around us, thick and heavy.