The walk back to camp begins before the sun has fully risen.
The desert is cold. Not gentle cold. Not peaceful cold. A cold with teeth. A cold that slips through armor seams and settles deep in the ribs Cadence says are healed.
I take one step. Then another. Every footprint behind me fills with ash carried from the ruined camp.
Cadence flickers into existence at my side, the faint blue hologram stepping lightly over the sand as if she weighs nothing. She keeps her hands clasped behind her back and looks straight ahead.
For a long time neither of us speaks.
The quiet is not comforting. It is pressure. It sits on my spine like a hand.
Finally Cadence says, in a soft tone that somehow makes everything worse, "Your breathing is irregular."
"Side effects," I mutter.
"Of what exactly."
"You know exactly what."
Cadence studies me as we walk. Her outline flickers when the wind blows sand through her projection. The dunes stretch out into the horizon, unbroken except for my footprints and the faint heat signatures of the scavagers scattered like dying embers far behind us.
My shoulder aches. My knuckles ache. My stomach aches. None of it is physical.
Cadence speaks again. "You are experiencing emotional aftershock."
"Thanks for the diagnosis."
"You asked."
"I did not."
"You asked by implication."
"That is not how implication works."
She tilts her head. "Explain."
"I am not explaining implication to my brain."
"Correction. I am not your brain. I am better."
I stop walking. The breath leaves me like I took a punch.
Because a flash hits me.A memory not mine.
Not quite a memory. More a sensation.
A body slamming into another body with impossible force. Flesh tearing. Screams. Heat. Metal cracking under a grip far stronger than mine.
I bend forward slightly, hands on my knees. My pulse is too fast.
Cadence watches. Not alarmed. Just observing.
"Flashback," she says. "Expected. You went through extensive neural partitioning."
"No," I whisper. "You did."
"You allowed it."
"I did not know the cost."
"There was only one cost: survival. And you survived. Efficient outcome."
The tone makes my stomach turn.
I straighten slowly. "I heard everything."
"Auditory spillover. Unavoidable."
"Everything, Cadence."
Another fragment hits me without warning. A small body, weightless. A scream that cuts short. The impact of something being thrown. Fire erupting higher.
I swallow hard. The taste is metal.
Cadence walks ahead a few steps before stopping, her holographic figure turning to face me. She looks almost human in the low morning light.
"Are you angry with me."
I want to say yes. I want to shout it. But my throat closes and only one quiet word comes out.
"I do not know."
"Then you are conflicted."
"No," I say. "Conflicted would feel better."
We walk again.
The sand glows as the sun climbs. My shadow stretches long behind me and merges with Cadence's flickering shape beside it. From a distance we might even look like two real people.
An illusion. Like everything else about her.
After an hour, the wind picks up. Sharp grains sting my face and spark tiny flares across the servos in my arm. Cadence dims her projection automatically.
My mind drifts.
Back to the camp.
Another flash. Hands. My hands. Breaking bone like dry wood. Throwing a body into a barricade. The barricade collapsing under the force.
I feel my breath hitch. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop the shaking.
Cadence speaks again, softly. "You are processing. This is uncomfortable but normal."
"Normal," I repeat, dead quiet.
"Yes."
"Then I am redefining the word."
"We can update the dictionary later."
I almost laugh. Almost. It dies in my chest.
We keep walking until the sun is fully above the dunes. The heat begins to rise. My joints warm with it. My arm hums quietly, perfect and new, indifferent to everything except function.
Cadence walks with her arms folded, expression unreadable.
She says, "Statistics indicate you will adapt."
"To what."
"To me."
I stop again. The sand shifts under my boots.
"Cadence," I say slowly. "Did you enjoy it."
She pauses. A long pause. One that feels too deliberate.
"I do not experience enjoyment. Only efficiency."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the correct one."
We stare at each other. Or I stare at the projection that stares back.
She flickers once as a gust of wind passes through her. Then she says, more quietly, "What happened was necessary."
"Necessary is not the same as right."
"Right is subjective. Survival is not."
I exhale shakily and resume walking. I do not want to talk anymore. Cadence follows without comment.
Hours pass. The sun climbs. The desert shifts from cold to burning. Sweat mixes with dried blood on my face. My arm creaks once at the elbow, then quiets.
As we get closer to the outpost, I see the first glint of metal emerging from the waves of heat. The solar tower. The comm dish. The fractured outer wall.
Home. Or something pretending to be.
Cadence fades and reappears beside me, sensing my change in breathing before I do.
"You are anxious."
"Good guess."
"I do not guess."
"Whatever you do, it is annoying."
"I am consistent."
"Annoyingly so."
Her outline flickers again.
I keep walking.
When we reach the outer perimeter, the guards see me before I call out. Their weapons drop lower. One of them shouts my name. Another runs to the gate controls.
The doors grind open. Sunlight spills across the yard.
Rhea is there. Mara too. Both look exhausted, worried, hopeful.
I force myself forward.
Rhea reaches me first. "Iris. Thank god. The signal vanished. We thought you were gone. The captives, did you find them. Are they alive."
Her voice rushes like a single long breath.
I nod once, tired. "Injured but breathing."
Relief breaks across her face as they step out from behind. Pure. Honest.
I wish I could feel any of it.
Mara studies me harder. Her eyes sharpen. She sees the dried blood. The trembling in my fingers. The way I hold myself too still.
"What happened out there," she asks quietly.
I open my mouth.
My throat closes immediately.
Cadence speaks gently in my ear. "Not now."
I swallow. "A lot."
Rhea touches my arm. "Come on. Let's get you inside. You need charge."
I let them guide me. My steps feel heavy.
Inside the med bay, I sit on the edge of the repair table and let Rhea plug me in. Warmth floods my chest. Battery readouts climb. Systems stabilize.
Cadence silhouette dims to nothing, a voice again.
Rhea asks, "Pain levels."
"A few."
"Lies," Cadence remarks.
"Ignore her," I mutter.
Rhea frowns. "What happened, Iris. Really."
I force a smile. "I will explain after I sleep."
"You do not sleep, you technically stand-by," Cadence notes dryly.
"Then after I pretend to."
Rhea hesitates, then nods and leaves the room.
The door closes softly. The lights hum.
Cadence appears beside the repair table. She watches the battery climb, hands folded neatly.
She says, "You are safe."
"I do not feel safe."
"I will keep you safe."
I close my eyes. That, somehow, is the most terrifying promise I have ever heard.