The atmospheric perturbation intensified with each passing moment, the rhythmic percussion of mechanical wings against frozen air growing from distant whisper to approaching thunder. My enhanced canine audition—even without the system enhancement that would have amplified these capabilities further—tracked the sound with instinctive precision, triangulating the source to approximately three hundred meters above and closing rapidly.
Uzi had heard it too.
Her stride faltered, her confident march into the wasteland interrupted by the unmistakable recognition of approaching danger. Her railgun came up, its improvised targeting systems humming with increased power draw as she scanned the perpetually overcast sky for visual confirmation of what her audio processors had already detected.
"Oh," she said, her voice carrying a complexity of emotions that my system immediately began cataloguing. "Oh, that's... that's actually happening. They're actually HERE."
『 EMOTIONAL DETECTION 』
Source: Worker Drone (Designation: Uzi)
Detected Emotions:
FEAR (moderate intensity, rising): Directed inward, not toward Host Entity — +0 EP
EXCITEMENT (strong intensity): Directed toward approaching threat — +0 EP
DETERMINATION (overwhelming intensity): Self-directed — +0 EP
Note: Subject's emotional focus is currently directed toward external threat. Recommend maintaining proximity for potential emotional redirection opportunities.
The system's clinical analysis of Uzi's psychological state felt oddly intrusive, but I suppressed my discomfort with the pragmatic recognition that understanding her emotional landscape was essential to my survival strategy. She was afraid—reasonably so, given that she was a diminutive worker drone armed with improvised technology facing predators that had successfully depopulated an entire colony. But her fear was layered beneath excitement and determination, the emotional architecture of someone who had chosen to confront terror rather than hide from it.
I found myself experiencing something that my canine psychology struggled to categorize—something adjacent to admiration, perhaps, or the recognition of courage in another being.
My tail wagged slightly before I could suppress it.
The wings grew louder.
And then, descending through a gap in the churning cloud cover like chrome meteorites of malevolent intent, they appeared.
Three figures, plummeting toward the surface in formation, their silhouettes resolving into clearer detail with each meter of altitude they shed. They were humanoid—bipedal, with proportions that approximated the worker drones but with obvious modifications that spoke to entirely different functional purposes. Wings extended from their backs, membranous structures of metal and synthetic material that somehow generated sufficient lift for powered flight despite configurations that seemed to violate conventional aerodynamic principles. Tails trailed behind them, serpentine appendages tipped with implements that glinted with obviously lethal sharpness.
Their eyes—targeting reticles rendered in amber luminescence—swept the landscape below with predatory attention.
Murder Drones.
The designation suddenly felt inadequate for the reality confronting me. These were not merely machines that killed—they were entities designed, optimized, and presumably programmed specifically for the termination of other mechanical beings. Every aspect of their construction spoke to this singular purpose: the claws that tipped their manipulator digits, the fanged configurations of their facial structures, the sleek aerodynamic chassis that prioritized speed and maneuverability over the industrial durability of worker designs.
They were beautiful, in the way that apex predators are beautiful—a terrible aesthetic elegance that commanded respect even as it promised destruction.
The lead drone—female in apparent configuration, with a crossed-out optical sensor that gave her an asymmetrical, unhinged appearance—landed first. Her descent terminated in a dramatic explosion of displaced snow, her wings folding elegantly behind her as she surveyed the scene with theatrical menace. Her smile—and Murder Drones apparently possessed mouths capable of smiling, a design choice I found deeply unnecessary and profoundly unsettling—revealed dentition that was obviously not intended for food consumption in any conventional sense.
"Well, well, WELL," she announced, her voice carrying clearly across the frozen distance with the projected confidence of someone accustomed to being the most dangerous entity in any given situation. "A Worker Drone outside the bunker. And here I was thinking tonight was going to be BORING."
Two additional figures landed behind her with considerably less theatrical flourish but no less evident lethality.
The first was male-presenting, tall and broad, with visor-like optical sensors that radiated an almost... puppyish eagerness? His expression, rendered on a digital display face similar to the worker drones but with obvious predatory modifications, seemed incongruously friendly for an entity whose designation literally included the word "murder." He fidgeted with his clawed hands in a manner that suggested nervous energy rather than aggressive anticipation.
The second was female, more compact than the leader but radiating an intensity of bloodlust that made my fur stand on end from fifty meters away. Her eyes—amber targeting reticles like the others—swept the environment with the attention of someone cataloguing potential victims rather than assessing threats. Her smile was less theatrical than the leader's but somehow more genuinely unsettling, the expression of someone who derived sincere pleasure from violence rather than merely performing enjoyment for effect.
Three Murder Drones. Three apex predators specifically designed to destroy beings of Uzi's exact configuration.
And Uzi raised her railgun with the defiant confidence of someone who had absolutely no intention of dying without a fight.
"Eat THIS, you corporate-sponsored PSYCHOPATHS!"
The weapon discharged.
What happened next occurred too rapidly for my human consciousness to fully process, but my canine perceptual systems—operating on instinct rather than deliberation—captured the sequence with remarkable clarity.
The railgun's electromagnetic acceleration coils activated with a sound like reality itself being torn along a seam. A projectile—some variety of metallic slug that Uzi had presumably manufactured or salvaged—launched from the improvised barrel at velocities that my eyes could barely track. The air along its trajectory ionized, creating a momentary line of brilliant blue-white illumination that connected Uzi's position to—
The lead Murder Drone's shoulder.
The impact was... anticlimactic.
The projectile struck the drone designated J with sufficient force to stagger her backward, leaving a visible dent in her chassis and producing a shower of sparks that scattered across the snow. But she didn't fall. She didn't deactivate. She didn't even seem particularly inconvenienced beyond the momentary loss of balance.
She looked down at the damage to her shoulder.
She looked up at Uzi.
Her smile widened.
"Oh," J said, her voice carrying a new quality—not anger, exactly, but something more dangerous. Amusement tinged with anticipation. The expression of a predator who had just discovered that her prey intended to make the hunt interesting. "Oh, that actually HURT. How DELIGHTFUL. I was worried this was going to be too EASY."
Uzi's railgun was cycling for another shot, its capacitor banks whining with the strain of rapid recharge. "Stay BACK! I've got two more shots and I'll—"
"You'll WHAT?" J interrupted, taking a deliberate step forward. Her damaged shoulder sparked occasionally, but her movement showed no impairment whatsoever. "Dent me again? How TERRIFYING. V, N—did you see that? The little Worker actually managed to INCONVENIENCE me. Isn't that PRECIOUS?"
The compact female drone—V, apparently—responded with a laugh that contained no warmth whatsoever. "Can I have her legs? I want to see if Workers taste different when they've been FEISTY."
"Dibs on the arms," J responded casually, as if they were discussing the distribution of snacks rather than the dismemberment of a sentient being. "N, you can have whatever's left."
The tall male drone—N—shifted uncomfortably, his visor-eyes flickering in what appeared to be genuine distress. "Do we HAVE to? She's just... she's really small, J. And she made that railgun herself, which is actually kind of impressive if you think about—"
"N." J's voice carried the weariness of someone who had conducted this exact conversation many times before. "We have QUOTAS. The company expects a certain number of Worker terminations per cycle, and we are ALREADY behind schedule because SOMEONE spent three hours last week trying to befriend a maintenance robot."
"He seemed LONELY!"
"He was a VACUUM CLEANER."
"Vacuums have FEELINGS!"
This exchange—occurring while I remained flattened against a debris pile approximately thirty meters from the confrontation, my golden fur providing inadequate camouflage against the snow, my tail mercifully frozen in place by sheer terror rather than wagging with its usual autonomous enthusiasm—provided crucial intelligence about the Murder Drone social dynamics.
J was clearly the leader, commanding through a combination of competence and force of personality. V was the eager subordinate, enthusiastic about violence in ways that suggested psychological characteristics I preferred not to contemplate. And N was... something else entirely. Something that didn't quite fit the Murder Drone template.
Something that might, conceivably, respond to emotional stimuli in ways that could benefit a reincarnated golden retriever attempting to survive in a world of mechanical predators.
But first, the immediate situation required resolution.
Uzi's railgun had completed its recharge cycle. She fired again, this time aiming for J's center mass with what appeared to be desperate determination. The projectile struck true—another shower of sparks, another visible impact crater in J's chassis—but the Murder Drone merely absorbed the blow with a grunt of mild annoyance.
"Two down," J observed, examining the new damage with clinical detachment. "One to go. And then we get to have our FUN."
"V, circle around. N, stop being useless and help corner her. This little Worker wants to play hunter? Let's show her what REAL hunters look like."
V launched into the air with predatory grace, her wings carrying her in a flanking arc that would cut off any potential retreat toward the bunker. N hesitated, his body language radiating reluctance, but eventually moved to comply with J's directive—positioning himself to complete the triangular encirclement that would leave Uzi with nowhere to run.
Uzi's railgun was cycling again, but the recharge time was clearly longer than the Murder Drones' coordination required. She was going to be surrounded before she could fire her third shot.
She was going to die.
The recognition struck me with unexpected emotional force. This rebellious young drone—who had argued with her father, who had built a weapon from spite and salvaged components, who had walked onto a frozen hellscape with the intention of challenging mechanical monsters—was going to be dismembered by predators she couldn't possibly defeat.
And I was going to watch it happen, because I was a dog, and dogs couldn't fight Murder Drones, and the smart thing to do was stay hidden and hope the predators were satisfied with one victim and didn't notice the anomalous golden retriever cowering behind a debris pile.
That was the logical analysis. That was the survival-optimal strategy.
My canine instincts, however, had different priorities.
Before my human consciousness could override the impulse, I was moving. My four legs—finally cooperating in coordinated locomotion—carried me out of concealment and directly into the confrontation zone. My vocal cords, operating entirely without authorization from my higher cognitive functions, produced a sound that I can only describe as the most magnificent bark I had ever generated.
"BORF!"
Every mechanical head in the vicinity swiveled toward my position.
J's targeting reticle locked onto me with predatory precision. V's aerial approach faltered as she processed this unexpected variable. Uzi's asymmetrical optics widened in what appeared to be horrified disbelief.
And N—
N's visor-eyes performed what I can only describe as a complete emotional reconfiguration.
"Oh my GOSH," he breathed, his voice transforming from reluctant compliance to incandescent enthusiasm in less than a second. "Oh my GOSH, is that a DOG? A real, actual, biological DOG? J! J, LOOK! It's a PUPPY!"
"N, we are in the middle of a HUNT—"
But N was no longer listening. His combat posture had completely dissolved, replaced by body language that radiated pure, unadulterated joy. His wings folded. His claws retracted. His entire seven-foot murder-optimized chassis somehow conveyed the energy of a child encountering their favorite animal for the first time.
He was moving toward me.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — MASSIVE SUCCESS 』
Source: Murder Drone (Designation: N)
Harvested Emotions:
JOY (overwhelming intensity, ×3.0 modifier): Base 5 EP × 3.0 = 15 EP
EXCITEMENT (overwhelming intensity, ×3.0 modifier): Base 5 EP × 3.0 = 15 EP
AFFECTION (strong intensity, ×2.0 modifier, emerging rapidly): Base 8 EP × 2.0 = 16 EP
First Encounter Bonus Applied: ×1.5
Total Harvest: (15 + 15 + 16) × 1.5 = 69 EP
Current EP Balance: 125 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 125 EP
『 NOTICE: Emotional harvest from single source exceeds previous session maximum. Subject "N" displays unusually high emotional responsiveness. Recommend prioritizing continued interaction. 』
Sixty-nine EP from a single emotional response. More than double what I had accumulated from all previous interactions with Uzi combined. N's capacity for emotional generation was extraordinary—and his emotions were overwhelmingly positive, producing yields that far exceeded what fear or anger would have provided.
The Murder Drone reached me before I could fully process the implications of this discovery. His clawed hands—implements clearly designed for dismemberment and destruction—reached toward me with movements that were somehow gentle, careful, almost reverent.
"I thought all the biological stuff was DEAD," N was saying, his voice carrying wonder that seemed entirely genuine. "The company briefings said Copper-9's surface was completely sterile after the core collapse. But you're HERE! You're REAL! You're so FLUFFY!"
His claws made contact with my fur.
He was petting me.
This seven-foot murder machine, with targeting systems and retractable weapons and the capability to disassemble worker drones for their oil, was scratching behind my ears with the tender attention of someone who had always wanted a pet and had never been permitted to have one.
My tail betrayed every tactical consideration I possessed by wagging with enthusiastic vigor.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — ONGOING 』
Source: Murder Drone (Designation: N)
Harvested Emotions:
AFFECTION (overwhelming intensity, ×3.0 modifier): Base 8 EP × 3.0 = 24 EP
JOY (sustained, overwhelming intensity): Base 5 EP × 3.0 = 15 EP
COMFORT (strong intensity, ×2.0 modifier): Base 6 EP × 2.0 = 12 EP
Sustained Attention Bonus: ×1.25
Total Harvest: (24 + 15 + 12) × 1.25 = 63.75 EP (rounded to 64 EP)
Current EP Balance: 189 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 189 EP
"N." J's voice had achieved new registers of exasperated disbelief. "N, we are supposed to be MURDERING things. Not... not FRATERNIZING with primitive carbon-based FLUFFBALLS."
"But LOOK at him, J!" N scooped me up—his claws were surprisingly gentle, cradling my body with care that seemed incompatible with his designated function—and turned to present me to his squad leader like I was a championship trophy. "Look at his FACE! He's got such SOULFUL eyes! And his fur is so SOFT!"
I dangled in the arms of my mechanical captor, my legs suspended in midair, my tail continuing its traitorous oscillation, and contemplated the absolute absurdity of my circumstances.
V had landed nearby, her bloodthirsty expression replaced by something closer to confused irritation. "Is N... is he BROKEN? Did the Worker's railgun hit him somehow?"
"He's not BROKEN," J seethed, "he's just PROFOUNDLY UNPROFESSIONAL. N, put the dog DOWN. We have a QUOTA to meet."
"His name is Biscuit now and I LOVE him."
I had not been consulted on this nomenclature. My human consciousness wanted to object—"Biscuit" was hardly the dignified appellation I would have chosen for myself—but my canine instincts responded to the warmth in N's voice with another enthusiastic tail wag that undermined any pretense of objection.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — ONGOING 』
Source: Murder Drone (Designation: N)
Harvested Emotions:
AFFECTION (overwhelming intensity, sustained): 24 EP
PROTECTIVENESS (strong intensity, ×2.0 modifier, emerging): Base value 7 EP × 2.0 = 14 EP — Note: New emotional category detected, classified under AFFECTION-adjacent responses
Total Harvest: 38 EP
Current EP Balance: 227 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 227 EP
『 MILESTONE APPROACHING: 500 EP total accumulated will unlock Category D (Special Abilities). Current progress: 45.4% 』
Uzi, apparently recognizing that the tactical situation had shifted in completely unexpected directions, had lowered her railgun slightly. Her expression—rendered on her digital display face—cycled through what appeared to be several distinct emotional states: confusion, disbelief, cautious hope, and what might have been reluctant amusement.
"Did..." she started, stopped, tried again. "Did the Murder Drone just ADOPT the dog in the middle of trying to kill me?"
"This is ABSURD," J declared, her clawed hands gesturing with theatrical frustration. "V, just—just kill the Worker while N has his little MOMENT. We can sort out whatever psychological malfunction he's experiencing AFTERWARD."
V launched toward Uzi with predatory speed.
But she had hesitated too long. Uzi's railgun had completed its final recharge cycle.
The third shot caught V directly in the chest, the electromagnetic projectile striking with sufficient force to arrest her aerial momentum and send her tumbling backward through the snow. Unlike J's shoulder hits, this was a center-mass impact—and V's chassis, while clearly durable, showed signs of genuine structural compromise. Oil leaked from the impact crater. Her wings flickered with compromised functionality.
"You little BITCH," V snarled, her voice carrying genuine rage rather than performative menace. "That actually HURT."
"YEAH IT DID!" Uzi shouted back, her confidence apparently restored by the successful strike. "That's what you GET for trying to eat my LEGS!"
J's expression had shifted from exasperation to something more dangerous—cold calculation replacing theatrical annoyance. "Fine. V, fall back and repair. I'll handle this personally."
She began walking toward Uzi with deliberate menace.
Uzi's railgun was empty. Three shots, all expended. Her confident expression began to falter as she recognized that her improvised weapon was now nothing more than an awkward bludgeon.
"N," J called over her shoulder, "when you're done cuddling your new PET, maybe you could contribute to the MISSION we're supposed to be completing?"
N looked down at me. I looked up at N. His visor-eyes were conflicted—duty warring with the obvious emotional connection he had formed in the past ninety seconds.
And my canine instincts, operating on pure survival imperative, made a decision.
I licked his face.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — CRITICAL SUCCESS 』
Source: Murder Drone (Designation: N)
Harvested Emotions:
AFFECTION (transcendent intensity, ×4.0 modifier — MAXIMUM): Base 8 EP × 4.0 = 32 EP
JOY (transcendent intensity, ×4.0 modifier): Base 5 EP × 4.0 = 20 EP
LOYALTY (strong intensity, ×2.0 modifier, NEWLY MANIFESTING): Base value 10 EP × 2.0 = 20 EP — Note: Rare emotional response indicating bond formation. Significant EP yield.
Total Harvest: 72 EP
Current EP Balance: 299 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 299 EP
『 NOTICE: Subject "N" emotional response has exceeded normal parameters. Bond formation detected. Subject loyalty orientation may be shifting. 』
N's entire chassis seemed to vibrate with joy. His grip on me tightened—not painfully, but protectively, the embrace of someone who had found something precious and had no intention of letting it go.
"J," he said, and his voice carried a quality it hadn't possessed before. Something firmer. Something that suggested he had reached a decision. "I don't think I want to kill the Worker anymore."
J stopped walking. Turned. Her expression was unreadable.
"Excuse me?"
"She's... she's Biscuit's friend! They were TOGETHER when we showed up! And Biscuit obviously likes her, because he followed her out here, and I can't just MURDER my dog's FRIEND, J! That would make me a BAD DOG OWNER!"
The logic was, objectively, insane. I had known Uzi for approximately fifteen minutes. Our relationship consisted entirely of me following her while she told me to go away, and her gradually accepting my presence with reluctant amusement. We were not "friends" in any meaningful sense of the term.
But N believed we were friends. And N's belief was currently the only thing standing between Uzi and violent dismemberment.
"N." J's voice was dangerously calm. "The company gave us very specific directives. Eliminate all Worker drones. No exceptions. No mercy. No ADOPTING PETS in the middle of OPERATIONS."
"But—"
"If you won't help with the mission, at least stay out of my WAY."
J resumed her advance toward Uzi, who had begun backing away with the desperate body language of someone calculating retreat options and finding none.
N looked at me again. His visor-eyes flickered with internal conflict—programming versus emotion, directives versus the bond that had somehow formed in the space of a few minutes.
I did the only thing I could think of.
I whimpered.
It wasn't a calculated tactical decision—or rather, it was, but it was also genuine. I was afraid. Afraid for Uzi, who was about to die. Afraid for myself, because if N's protection wavered, I would be next. Afraid of this frozen world and its mechanical predators and the comprehensive uncertainty of my continued existence.
The sound that emerged from my throat was small, vulnerable, and absolutely authentic.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — ONGOING 』
Source: Murder Drone (Designation: N)
Harvested Emotions:
PROTECTIVENESS (overwhelming intensity, ×3.0 modifier): 7 EP × 3.0 = 21 EP
DISTRESS (strong intensity, ×2.0 modifier — empathetic response to Host Entity's apparent fear): 3 EP × 2.0 = 6 EP
DETERMINATION (strong intensity, redirecting): +0 EP — Note: Determination now directed toward protecting Host Entity
Total Harvest: 27 EP
Current EP Balance: 326 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 326 EP
N made a decision.
"J, STOP!"
He set me down gently—carefully positioning my paws on the snow as if I were made of glass—and stepped between J and Uzi with the kind of resolute body language that suggested he was prepared to defend his position physically if necessary.
J stopped. Her expression cycled through several emotional states—surprise, confusion, irritation, and finally something that might have been genuine curiosity.
"N. What are you doing?"
"I'm... I'm not going to let you hurt them. Either of them. Biscuit needs the Worker because she's his friend, and I need Biscuit because he's my DOG now, and I'm NOT going to let you take that away from me!"
V, who had recovered sufficiently from Uzi's railgun shot to rejoin the confrontation, landed beside J with an expression of absolute bewilderment. "Is... is N actually DEFENDING a Worker? Against US?"
"Apparently," J replied, her voice flat with suppressed emotion. "Apparently our colleague has decided that his attachment to a random biological entity supersedes his loyalty to his squad and his obligations to the company."
"I don't HAVE attachments!" N protested, though his body language—positioned protectively between the other Murder Drones and myself—completely contradicted his words. "I just... I just think maybe we could NOT kill everyone sometimes? Like, as a TREAT?"
Uzi, apparently recognizing an opportunity, had sidled closer to my position. Her asymmetrical optics flicked between N—her apparent defender—and the other Murder Drones, calculating odds that had shifted dramatically in the past few minutes.
"This is INSANE," she muttered, her voice quiet enough that only my enhanced canine hearing could detect it. "I came out here to kill Murder Drones and instead one of them is PROTECTING me because of a DOG."
I wagged my tail at her.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — SUCCESS 』
Source: Worker Drone (Designation: Uzi)
Harvested Emotions:
DISBELIEF (strong intensity): Base 4 EP × 2.0 = 8 EP — Note: Classified under SURPRISE category
RELUCTANT GRATITUDE (moderate intensity): Base 6 EP × 1.5 = 9 EP — Note: Classified under COMFORT-adjacent responses
AMUSEMENT (moderate intensity, conflicting with situation severity): 4 EP × 1.5 = 6 EP
Total Harvest: 23 EP
Current EP Balance: 349 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 349 EP
J's posture shifted. Her combat-ready aggression reconfigured into something more calculating, more patient. She was re-evaluating the situation, I realized—processing this unexpected development and formulating new strategic approaches.
"Fine," she said eventually, her voice carrying the controlled calm of someone choosing to defer confrontation rather than abandon it entirely. "FINE. N wants to play pet owner? Let him play. V, we're leaving."
"But—" V started, her bloodlust clearly unsatisfied.
"The Worker got lucky. Her little science project actually worked, at least well enough to damage you. And N has apparently lost his MIND. We're not winning this engagement cleanly, and I refuse to return to the pod with a MESS when we can simply try again tomorrow."
V's expression conveyed profound disappointment, but she nodded reluctantly. "What about N? And his... pet?"
J's gaze locked onto me with unsettling intensity. Her amber targeting reticle seemed to bore through my fur, my flesh, directly into whatever soul a reincarnated golden retriever possessed.
"The dog is an anomaly. Biological life shouldn't exist on Copper-9's surface. The company will want to know about this." She paused, her smile returning with predatory anticipation. "We'll be BACK, little Worker. And we'll be bringing QUESTIONS for your new furry friend."
She launched into the air, her wings carrying her upward with effortless grace. V followed after one last longing glance toward Uzi—a glance that promised violence merely postponed rather than cancelled.
And then they were gone, disappearing into the perpetual overcast sky, leaving behind only the settling snow and the echo of mechanical wings fading into distance.
N remained standing between Uzi and the direction the other Murder Drones had departed, his protective posture not relaxing until the sound of their flight had completely vanished.
Then he turned to face us with an expression of absolute joy.
"They're GONE! Biscuit, they're GONE! You're SAFE!" He dropped to his knees in the snow—a seven-foot murder machine kneeling before a golden retriever with the reverent enthusiasm of a devotee before a religious icon. "Oh, you were SO BRAVE! You didn't even RUN! Most Workers run, but you just sat there and let me PET you and it was the BEST THING EVER!"
He was petting me again. His claws—retracted, I noticed, as if he had consciously modified his configuration to avoid accidentally harming me—scratched behind my ears with genuine tenderness.
My tail wagged.
My human consciousness wanted to process the strategic implications of this development—the fact that I had somehow acquired a Murder Drone as a protector, the questions J had promised to bring, the uncertain future that awaited—but my canine instincts were entirely occupied with the pleasant sensation of having my ears scratched by someone who was very, very good at ear-scratching.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — ONGOING 』
Source: Murder Drone (Designation: N)
Harvested Emotions:
JOY (overwhelming intensity, sustained): 15 EP
AFFECTION (overwhelming intensity, sustained): 24 EP
RELIEF (strong intensity): Base 5 EP × 2.0 = 10 EP — Note: New category, classified under COMFORT-adjacent responses
PRIDE (moderate intensity — pride in having protected Host Entity): Base 4 EP × 1.5 = 6 EP — Note: New category
Total Harvest: 55 EP
Current EP Balance: 404 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 404 EP
『 MILESTONE APPROACHING: 500 EP total accumulated will unlock Category D (Special Abilities). Current progress: 80.8% 』
Uzi approached cautiously, her empty railgun clutched in manipulator hands that were still trembling—whether from residual combat adrenaline or sheer disbelief at the situation's resolution, I couldn't determine.
"So," she said, her voice carrying the forced casualness of someone desperately trying to impose normalcy on profoundly abnormal circumstances. "The Murder Drone is... our friend now? Because of the dog?"
"I'm N!" the Murder Drone in question announced cheerfully, not looking up from his ear-scratching duties. "And Biscuit isn't just a dog, he's MY dog! Which makes you MY DOG'S FRIEND! Which makes you basically FAMILY!"
"I've known the dog for like twenty minutes."
"That's TWENTY MINUTES of friendship! That's basically a LIFETIME in dog years!"
"That's... that's not how dog years work."
"It's how BISCUIT years work!"
Uzi looked at me. I looked at Uzi. My tongue lolled out in what I hoped communicated solidarity in the face of circumstances neither of us had anticipated.
『 EMOTIONAL HARVEST — SUCCESS 』
Source: Worker Drone (Designation: Uzi)
Harvested Emotions:
BEWILDERMENT (moderate intensity): 4 EP × 1.5 = 6 EP — Note: Classified under SURPRISE
RELUCTANT ACCEPTANCE (low intensity): 3 EP × 1.0 = 3 EP — Note: New category, classified under COMFORT-adjacent
EMERGING FONDNESS (low intensity, nascent): 8 EP × 1.0 = 8 EP — Note: AFFECTION category, early stage development
Total Harvest: 17 EP
Current EP Balance: 421 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 421 EP
"Okay," Uzi said finally, apparently reaching some internal resolution about the situation. "Okay. So I came out here to kill Murder Drones. I shot one three times and barely inconvenienced her. Another one tried to eat my legs. And the third one... adopted a dog and decided to protect me because of the dog."
"That's a pretty accurate summary!" N agreed happily.
"This is the WEIRDEST night of my entire existence."
"It's the BEST night of MY existence! I have a DOG now!"
He scooped me up again, cradling me against his chassis with the protective tenderness of a new parent holding an infant. His wings—those implements of aerial predation—folded around us both like a metallic cocoon.
I should have been terrified. This was a Murder Drone—an entity explicitly designed to kill, to disassemble, to consume. His squad had been moments away from ending Uzi's existence. His loyalty to me was based on nothing more substantial than my being fluffy and having licked his face.
But his arms were warm—heated by whatever power systems sustained his mechanical function—and his grip was gentle, and my canine instincts responded to his obvious affection with the complete trust that dogs had evolved across millennia to offer beings who treated them with kindness.
My tail wagged against his chassis.
My human consciousness finally managed to assert itself over the comfortable haze of canine contentment.
STATUS, I thought, directing the command toward the system interface that had been quietly accumulating data throughout this entire confrontation.
『 STATUS DISPLAY 』
Host Entity: "Biscuit" (designation assigned by bonded entity N)
Vessel: Golden Retriever (Adult Male)
Location: Copper-9 Surface, Bunker Facility 7-G Perimeter, Position: Cradled by Murder Drone N
Current EP Balance: 421 EP
Total EP Accumulated: 421 EP
ENHANCEMENT STATUS:
Category A (Physical Fitness): No enhancements purchased
Category B (Sensory): No enhancements purchased
Category C (Canine Traits): No enhancements purchased
Category D (Special Abilities): LOCKED — Unlocks at 500 EP total accumulated (79 EP remaining)
AVAILABLE AFFORDABLE ENHANCEMENTS:
Endurance I (40 EP), Olfaction I (35 EP), Audition I (35 EP), Vision I (40 EP), Speed I (50 EP), Strength I (50 EP), Agility I (45 EP), Durability I (60 EP), Retriever's Instinct I (55 EP), Pack Bonding I (65 EP), Emotional Intuition I (70 EP), Comforting Presence I (75 EP), Loyalty Aura I (80 EP)
BONDED ENTITIES:
Murder Drone "N" — Bond Strength: STRONG — Emotional responsiveness: EXCEPTIONAL — Threat level to Host: MINIMAL
Worker Drone "Uzi" — Bond Strength: DEVELOPING — Emotional responsiveness: MODERATE — Threat level to Host: NONE
ACTIVE THREATS:
Murder Drone "J" — Status: DEPARTED, promised return — Threat assessment: SEVERE
Murder Drone "V" — Status: DEPARTED, promised return — Threat assessment: HIGH
Unknown corporate interest in Host Entity's biological anomaly — Threat assessment: UNCERTAIN
『 STRATEGIC RECOMMENDATION: Consider investing EP in Emotional Intuition and Comforting Presence to maximize ongoing emotional harvesting efficiency. Alternatively, invest in physical enhancements (Speed, Agility, Durability) to improve survival probability during future hostile encounters. Category D unlock is imminent and may provide additional strategic options. 』
Four hundred and twenty-one points. Accumulated in less than an hour of actual interaction with sentient beings. The system's emotional harvesting mechanism was extraordinarily effective, particularly when applied to entities with high emotional responsiveness like N.
And Category D—the locked special abilities—was only seventy-nine points away from unlocking.
I had options now. Real options. The ability to enhance my capabilities, to become something more than an ordinary golden retriever, to develop the tools I would need to survive in this world of mechanical predators and corporate machinations.
But those decisions could wait. For now, I was warm. I was safe—as safe as anyone could be on Copper-9's frozen surface. I had allies, however improbable their composition. And I had accumulated nearly half of the EP required to unlock whatever advanced capabilities the system had been keeping in reserve.
"So," Uzi said, her voice cutting through my strategic contemplation, "what happens now? Do we just... go back to the bunker? With a MURDER DRONE?"
"I could come see where you LIVE!" N suggested enthusiastically. "I've never been inside a Worker bunker before! Is it nice? Do you have places where Biscuit could SLEEP? Dogs need sleep, right? I read that somewhere. Or maybe I'm thinking of cats. Do cats need sleep? Do you have any CATS?"
"We don't have cats. We barely have survival rations."
"That sounds SAD. Biscuit deserves BETTER than sad."
Uzi sighed—a remarkably human expression of exasperation from a mechanical being—and began trudging back toward the bunker entrance. "Come on, then. Both of you. My dad is going to absolutely LOSE HIS MIND when he sees this."
N followed eagerly, still carrying me in his protective embrace.
And I, Biscuit the reincarnated golden retriever, allowed myself to be carried toward whatever improbable future awaited—my tail wagging, my EP accumulating, my enhancement options expanding, and my circumstances growing more bizarre with every passing moment.
The frozen wasteland of Copper-9 stretched around us in all directions, its devastation temporarily forgotten in the warmth of unlikely companionship.
Whatever came next, I was no longer alone.
『 EP GAIN SUMMARY — CHAPTER 1 CONCLUSION 』
Starting EP: 0
Emotional harvests from Uzi: 96 EP total
Emotional harvests from N: 325 EP total
Ending EP: 421 EP
Enhancements purchased: 0
Category D unlock progress: 84.2%
Bonds formed: 2 (N — Strong, Uzi — Developing)
Survival status: ONGOING