Chapter Text
Answer
“You couldn’t have told us all of this earlier?” J complained, her visage knotted in a disappointed frown as she stood with her hands on her hips beside Uzi’s bed.
The bedridden android scowled at her. “No. If I did, I’d be dead right now. Doom gleans info from its hosts, remember? It’d be able to know my plans if I told any of you. I’m the only one that can never be its host. It was the safest option! For all of us.”
“I hate that you’re right,” V grumbled, crossing her arms. Her barbed tail irritably twitched, poised to strike.
Uzi replied with a devious grin that was swiftly interrupted by a coughing fit that bubbled out of her oil-slicked throat. Fretting, N placed a hand on her shoulder and looked to her visor with pitiful puppy eyes. She quickly recovered from her bout and pushed his hand away.
“Anyway,” Uzi spoke in a ragged tone, like a gruff elderly person who’d seen more than any youngsters could ever hope to know, “you should really all be thanking me. You’d be goners without your captain.”
“So what’s the freaking plan, then?” Lizzy chimed, standing by V while her eyes were fixed to her phone’s screen.
“Well, first, I’m not ready to do anything,” Uzi informed, pointing to her screen face, which changed to display a depleted battery. “We’re taking a mandatory break from everything.”
J’s bottom lip curled over itself as her dejected eyes glanced away from gurney. Mel, seated comfortably by her audials, giggled at the professionalist android’s childish dismay.
“Then, we fly Starchaser over Treachery. J and Thad will be our scouts. Look for any new info, scavenge, assess new pathways, send data back to Starchaser. Find the best ways in, and the best ways out. Get us any advantages you can,” their admin ordered, her face furrowed into seriousness.
Thad gave her a hearty salute as J nodded. Mel made some sort of bobbing movement in agreement.
“V and Lizzy, secure the perimeter of Treachery.” The admin pointed at the blonde. “You’re working on the ground. Take Sparky and my railgun; you’ll need any protection you can get. V will man Starchaser’s guns and cover you from above. Lizzy’s not allowed in Treachery: safety precaution.”
“What do we need so much firepower for? Not that I’m complaining- it’s good to finally kill some stuff,” the vicious murder drone added, eagerly wagging her tail as she adjusted her round tinted spectacles. Lizzy peered sideways at the drone, then gave a barely noticeable smile.
“She has an army. Doom controls a hive mind of hollow bots. They shouldn’t be impossible to handle: they shouldn’t be particularly fast or strong- they’re basically a bunch of corpses- there’ll just be a lot,” Uzi clarified in a matter-of-fact tone.
J’s eyes narrowed, claws clutching at her sleeves. “Like those zombies back in Gluttony… with Melissa…” she murmured, almost too quiet for anyone to discern. The little bug on the advisor’s shoulders perked up when she heard her name.
“Me and N are going back in. We’re headed for the core. That’s where she is. We’ll go after Thad and J get their intel. Then, our gunners can get to work once she’s noticed us and sends her lackeys out.” She intertwined her hand with N’s, and in response, he kneeled to the bed’s level.
“Is that… the best idea?” V questioned, eyeing Uzi’s poor condition, then looking knowingly to N. Catching her gaze, his eyes went hollow and his grip on Uzi faltered as his hands began to shake.
Uzi gave him a tight squeeze. “It’s fine. Doom can’t get me, and N’s been immunized. We’ll be okay.”
“Whatever the boss says,” J sighed.
“What do we do in the meantime?” Lizzy queried, scarcely looking up from her phone to lock eyes with Uzi.
“I dunno, we just hang out,” she responded rather simply with a casual shrug.
“Here, I brought you something,” N quietly cooed, slipping into the medical room. The flowing movement of his tail trailing after him was akin to gentle ocean waves lapping at the shore. With a careful hand, he shut the door behind him, the sound of which rousing Uzi.
The admin groaned, rolling over in bed to face her guest. She blinked, eyes narrowed. “What?”
He seated himself by her legs, holding an object with both hands. “You still tired?”
“Obviously.” A guttural sound bubbled out of her small body. “Hungry, too.”
N set his item down on the tile floor, by the foot of the bed. His hands moved to Uzi, helping her sit upright despite her sleepy protests. She scowled at him, and prepared to return to her horizontal position until she caught eye of what he’d brought her.
He grabbed his gift and offered it to Uzi. “It’s for us to share,” he informed, as she took the sizeable canister of oil in her hands.
Her previously sour attitude evaporated immediately. “Really?”
He nodded.
With a bout of muted sinister laughter, she greedily bit open the container, staring eagerly into the black pool inside. Uzi brought the item to her face, pretending to take a deep whiff of the liquid. Then, she extended her slender, inky tongue from her mouth and began to lap up the sustenance like a dog.
N giggled. “Is it any good?”
Uzi’s eyes suddenly flicked up to see him. A wash of purple lined the bottom of the visor. “No-! Maybe… shut up!”
He held onto the canister, not removing it from Uzi’s grasp, as he inched his face closer. Their heads were nearly touching, visors close enough to see every pixel that made them up. Her violet glow and his golden light swirled into an ombre that bridged them together— a beam of tender pink stretching between their luminescence. His tongue— identical to hers— snaked out of his maw and reached for the oil.
A thin veil of empty space separated the pair. Each could feel every breath of the other, and hear every gulp of obsidian travel down their throats. Neither were truly paying attention to reinvigorating themselves; their focus was entirely on their other half, absorbed in every subtle movement of their face and every little sigh of air they released.
Unknowingly, while their minds were elsewhere, their busy proboscises met. Both jumped, startled at the contact, but when the other did not pull away, they simply continued their mindless feasting. Soon enough, Uzi was no longer hungry for oil.
While N was still focused on feeding, Uzi prodded her tongue against his. Confused, N lifted his head away from the container. His tongue cutely stuck out of his closed mouth, Uzi’s remaining attached. Several diagonal lines illuminated under her wide eyes. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
He withdrew, and opened his mouth to speak. On an instinct, she took the opportunity to forcefully press her lips against his, tightly gripping his furry collar. He gasped, and although she didn’t go further, she caught his taste; it was exactly the high she was chasing, and her brows tilted back at the relief.
The heavy flavour of oil nearly overpowered N’s unique taste, but she could find it anywhere: notes of honey, vanilla, some sort of biotic tartness, and what tasted to be a sour squeeze of fresh lemon.
A long moment later, and Uzi released him. Both panted for breath, visors coated in embarrassed blush of their respective colours. Their hearts pounded so hard and loud that you’d think it was their first time. The medical room was beginning to feel too stuffy for Uzi.
N clutched the canister a little tighter, a dazed look in his optics. “I love you,” he whispered without thinking.
Overcome with shame, Uzi avoided his needy gaze. “Yeah, I love you too, you dummy.” Her eyes slowly slid back to him. She showed off her fangs. “And thanks for the oil.”
Thad idly strolled through Starchaser’s silent, dim halls. He whistled an upbeat tune while he spun his signature red cap around his forefinger, taking casual yet large strides. He heard the typical chatter of Lizzy and V in the workers’ room; from the sound of it, J was also with them. He debated seeing what the fuss was about, but decided his current path was more important. They were probably just senselessly bickering, anyway.
At the end of the corridor was the helm. The pilot’s chair was left unoccupied. The only sound from the room was the quiet, mechanical hum of machinery.
Thad perched himself on the rotating captain’s chair, wriggling into a comfortable position. He heard the sound of a friendly chirp, and looked to the source; an emerald insectoid atop the control panel.
“Hey,” he greeted the keybug, who shook its antennae in response. “You’re extra peppy today, huh lil’ dude?”
The keybug skittered across the panel and onto Thad’s hand, making happy buzzes and beeps to communicate its delight in having company.
“Must get pretty lonely in here while we’re all out, huh?” Thad figured from the bug’s demeanour.
The insectoid bobbed its head up and down in a nod, and then produced a speech bubble containing an emoticon frown.
“Don’t worry, little guy. We’ll be back home soon enough. I bet Mrs. Doorman misses you.”
“Bold assumption, ser-er-erf,” a robotic voice heralded the interjection of the helm’s omnipresent master. “That wretched witch wants n-n-nothing to do with her home-sweet-home, frown.”
Tilting his head like a curious puppy, Thad raised a brow. “Why do you care?”
“We were so-o-o close. Very, very close. When i-it was Nori’s turn to have the honour of being the Absolute Solver’s chosen ho-o-oly vessel, the two of us were closer than ever. B-F-Fs, as you might say-ay, smile. Her chest ca-avity was very comfy, if not for all of the horrible words she-e-e used against the Solver’s effortless glory. But then that other p-purple-haired meanie had to show up, sigh. I was banished, and now my Nori-i-i hates the lab and the hu-uma-a-ans and poor little me. Pout,” the Cyn-Solver recounted, straying far from Thad’s original concerns.
She continued, unfazed by the worker’s perplexed expression, “Anyhoo, that little bug-g— though you’re all bugs to me— is fr-from our old home. The one that N-Nori hates. Even a simple, unascended drone like you can understan-an-and the one-plus-one connection there.”
“Then why’d she keep it?”
“Simple: as a memen-ento. You drones have a strange outlook on death— that it is somethi-i-ing to be grieved instead of cherished. You cower in fear at the s-s-sight of a corpse, and mourn at the perceived loss of a comrade. Death is the only-ly method for you simpletons to ascend. Those who cannot and will not acce-ept the Absolute’s blessings must become one with it. It is the only pur-urpose you have: to contribute your worthless bodies to me as food.”
Thad grimaced.
“Nori saw many huma-ans and drones alike d-d-die at that place, thanks to my excellent handiwork, elegant and well-received bow.” Though they had no body to move, the Cyn-Solver continued to voice what actions they would perform, should they be able to. “That ke-e-eybug is the only physical tie she has to her memories of those people. Instead-ead-ead of accepting that they are g-gone forever, she clings onto the idea that they exist beyond their bodies, even ju-ust as a memory. Pathetic, isn’t it?”
“I’d like to believe that, too.”
The screen’s yellow eyes squinted. “Long sigh of disapproval. Of course you-u would. You silly worker drones are all the same: hopeful, stupid, t-t-tasty. Lick. Giggle.”
“You’re worried about them, aren’t you?” J prodded, directing the end of her tail at V to make it clear who she was speaking to.
“W-Worried about who? The purple freak and her dumb dog? Nah, no way.” V deflected, retaining an unbothered, cross-armed stance, but neglecting to swipe away the sweat drops on her visor.
Lizzy poked her side with her elbow. “V, you’re sweating.”
“Way to blow my cover,” the disassembler grumbled, fangs bared.
“I’m worried too, V,” J assured, slowly sitting on a bean bag chair. “But my worry is much smaller than my certainty that they’ll be able to complete their task. We’ll be getting overtime bonuses soon enough.”
V smirked. “We’re not getting paid, dipshit.”
“Surely the toasters back on Copper-9 will be singing our praises as Starchaser lands?”
Lizzy crossed her arms. “It’s not like us workers need the oil. It’s only needed for emergency transfusions, which are rarely done since the killer bots went soft.”
“Well, they should be grateful that we put in absurd levels of effort and workplace productivity in order to secure humanely-sourced oil rather than tearing them all into bloody bits,” J pouted.
“Is gathering up desecrated corpses to be bled dry ‘humane’ to you?” Lizzy queried, quirking her fuschia brows.
“As a matter of fact, it is.”
“I know you’re putting up a tough act for my sake, but I can tell something’s up with you, J. What are you hiding?” V suddenly asserted, cutting through the light-hearted chatter.
The more business-oriented of the three made a noise between a growl and a sigh. “Perceptive as always, V.” She gazed across the room, her digital eyebrows pointed back to convey an emotion made of wistfulness and despair. Her eyes were pinned on a little blue bug, sleeping peacefully atop a pillow. “It’s Mel.”
“You can leave her in the ship if you want,” Lizzy offered. “I’m pretty sure she’s not mission-essential.”
“No, you don’t understand. Back when Thad and I were exploring Fraud, he went offline after being attacked. While waiting for him to boot back up, I scrounged through some old papers. Mel’s not a little human girl at all. She’s a program intrinsically connected to the PLN, made from the same ‘core.’ When the core is destroyed to end the network, she’ll be gone, too.” Tears trickled down her dark visor. “I’m sick of losing! I’m sick of losing the only things I love! A-And I’m not— I’m not ready to lose her again, V. I’m not ready to let go of my Tessa.”
V held a conflicted look across her face. “J, I—”
J sternly wiped her tears away and regained her composure. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not picking a memory of you guys anymore.”