Never So Alone (c. 11,000 words)

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Suicide/Suicidal Ideation
Class warfare
Slavery

For Trigger Warning.
Although the following is intended to be uplifting, the themes are harsh. Reader discretion is advised.

Thumping, where my heartbeat would have been.

The low-power warning. Already? That thump marked my ten-year lease on life coming to a close.

***

I remember it like the other day:
Desperate to find the doctor drone that worked on me, I had jumped off the still-skidding chariot plate.

As I scrambled for footing and rolled back onto my feet, I raised a cloud of dust.

"Caleb, no!" Bigrath called for caution, "Hold back."

I didn't care if the place caved in on me. The beautiful hypocrite wanted me safe, but I had to–I rushed in the smoking ruin. As I charged through the shattered wall, the blood-pump in my chest raised my efficiency better than the real one ever did. "Got to be here."

"No rush, Caleb." Bigrath wrenched the control rod till the chariot skidded to a stop and stepped down. "Damage done; dumbots gone."

Under my breath, I chanted, "Far as ever," in sync with her. Our little reminder that the police cannons lurked just around the corner.

The walls creaked under the pressure. The front and rear walls of the medical bay lay in ruin behind the smoking boots of the real target.

Seeing nobody in the room, I threw aside the wreckage of the door, dodging a still-burning ceiling tile. "Ob17, answer me," I hollered, rushing over the scorched flooring of the medical room.

The medical bay survived, by local standards. Medicine bags and bottles lay on free-floating shelves. I ran past them, to the back, where the wall had caved in. The dark purple feet stuck out of the wreckage.

Maybe he survived. There might be hope. I pulled aside bits of charred, crumbling steel and shattered plasticore. "Oh, no. Please!"

At the bottom of the pile, the twisted, melted remains of my doctor drone stared blankly up at me.

I cradled the purple metal head in my hands. "Answer me."

Lights flickered, dimmer each time as the bleeding energy sparked into my chest, jolting me. Smoke from the drone and my shirt burned my nostrils.

Bigrath laid her hand on my shoulder. "We'll get someone to unlock your heart."

"I don't understand," I protested, denying the truth that I did; everyone knew. For over three hundred years, mindless civil war had been the norm. "Why would they do this?"

Bigrath shrugged. "Wouldn't be human if you did."

The destroyers, named Eradis–like the death moon they came from–had no limits on their violence. These ancient Terran, nightmares-in-shining-armor march through our cities to exterminate scofflaw and public enemy alike. They just do what they were made for. But the people, I couldn't understand. "I mean, the Indur that command them. Why don't they decommission them?'

As Bigrath looked down at me, her huge, angry face scrunched up.

I knew. We all knew that nothing could turn them back. One could only hope to hide from their sight, or run from their judgment–like the kings and commanders of the Indur had done centuries ago.

Bigrath had nothing to say.

"Yeah well." I scratched my head and stared into the distance. "Obie said it would last a few years."

"Ten." Bigrath nodded, her grimace trying to affect a smile. "Ten years we get with you. If you don't catch a cannon shot."

"Twenty seven years old." I smiled and slapped the towering woman on the shoulder. "You know anybody that old round this dump?"

"Speak for yourself, Caleb." She grabbed a bottle of some medicine off a shelf. "I intend to make it to fifty."

"How you gonna do that?" I took a swig of my rotgut. It didn't ferment right, but it burned just enough to help me forget I'd just got my death date. "Find yourself a spacer that can get you to Terra?"

"Just gonna hide behind the likes of you."

A little man like me? That threw my head back. I scoffed in amusement, "Ha. Now, I might be able to hide behind your huge frame." Especially with her tendency to jump in front of people.

She smiled, chin jutting up. "That's the spirit." She kicked my place on the chariot.

I jumped up and grabbed a prong. "Knew you had me covered."

"You?" She shook her head with a lopsided smile. She twisted the prong, and the plate kicked forward under my feet. "...know, you didn't."

***

I expected two, maybe ten, days before the pump seized. None of the bots could work on me because of licensing–hardly any of them could even explain the concept.

I gathered it was heraldry from the corporate age of Terra–an age darker even than the current Holy Terran Empire.

I took a breath. At least I still had my original soul, unlike the brainwashed fortunates drooling under the 'Holy' Terran Empire.

But myth and legend–for that was all anybody knew of the Empire–offered little comfort, either to me or, more importantly, to the people who depended on me.

Trying to piece together a plan, I moped about the streets.

Lizards crept about the dust, avoiding the ravenous katts, as the dust blowing about spiced the air.

Who could I put in my place, to shepherd the community children and con the older ones to sanity? At thirty, Bigrath showed little sign of slowing down, but her leadership had a hard edge. Perhaps I might find a piece of machinery, screen or drone, who could emulate my personhood, and tend to my people as if I were there.

On the other side of a long-destroyed cafe, lustrous, blood-red hair waved about a strange xeno woman's shoulders as she waved at me.

My burning eyes squinted as I looked at her, trying to decide if the vision before me was actually as alien as she looked.

The red hair, the friendly eyebrow ridges, the green tinge of that milky skin–exaggerated by the algae-filtered sunlight–and even the sweet, puppyish enthusiasm of her manner all tried too hard to be 'xeno.'

Any distraction? I groaned at my cowardly mind, scampering after anything but what mattered. I reminded myself of all I had to do in the next few days–including bringing down the hellfire of an Eradis cannon on my head–and hoisted my hand shoulder-high in a polite-dismissal wave.

Suddenly she was on me, all over me–not physically, but emotionally. Her psychic shadow engulfed me in a wave of emotions: sweet and tangy and altogether teenaged. I felt ten years younger, and very exposed. I blushed a bit, and–wishing the delicious mindwitch had strummed my nerves a year ago–reluctantly, I turned away.

"Hey!" She waved at me again. "Caleb?"

"Thanks, but you…" She had, no doubt, spied on my thoughts and read in them a cry for help. The brutality of my thoughts demanded that I cringe. At the enormity of my task, I shrugged. Surely, the engineers who sculpted this enchantress hadn't installed overrides for their corporate protections. "You can't help."

Shock ran over her face. "Caleb!"

I didn't have time to help her through this, and that bothered me. "Really. Thank you for trying."

She stepped forward.

I had forgotten how far apart we were–four hovercar-lengths at least. She had really sliced into my mind. "You'll see. They'll be better off." I mean, depending on another man's borrowed time is not good for anybody.

Her enthusiasm sank to my level: her grin closed into a sad smile, eyebrow ridges pinched, her shoulders slumped, and her head tilted to the side.

That hurt to watch. I doubted many could shake off her charms like I had, even as reluctantly as I did. That added another reason I didn't need her on me during my final days. Having 'won' our battle of wills, I shuffled off, kicking up little storms of dust.

When I passed by the remaining wall of the cafe ruins, I saw the persistence-hunter still watching me, her green eyes paling to a faded blue.

Half-remembered stories bubbled in my brain: a mad mindwitch with crimson hair and color-changing eyes. Scarlett, they said, would find you and stitch herself into your life.

She would never let go until she set you straight. The more desperately you fought, the more surely she approached. She would only leave once you did right. Older than the plague of Eradis, they say, this 'emissary of the stars' unraveled the most twisted lives and knitted them together right. Her work, they say, holds Larrikesh together.

I dared call foul; worse than dead, Larrikesh had devolved into a rabid patchwork of zombie organs chewing at its own flesh and not knowing enough to curse its Doctor Frankenstein.

Meanwhile, none of the bots that swarmed the city seemed ready for what I did, and more the pity; if enough of me spread about, we might bandage this bleeding world. Larrikesh might pull through in the way that my small community had. I grieved for them, for their loss–and dared hope that they might summon forth some entity to tend them in this life.

***

Seeking a faster, more ordinary death–at the hands of our Indur overlords and their Eradis drones–I lay in wait on that lonely road where even lonelier Indur captains often pass.

I felt the rumbling of the Eradis footsteps first.

Soon, a neatly trimmed, bespectacled Indur rounded the corner and hobbled down the road, past Scarlett.

I groaned inwardly, and prayed to the Stars that sent her that she would not interfere. The world needed her, and could have her in the way that it needed me and could not have me.

Scarlett looked suddenly up at the sky, for a few seconds, then strode toward my Indur.

The bespectacled man harrumphed at her. "What broken medical gun has you tripping cross my path?"

Implying some Terran counselor-priest had shot her full of drugs that had not been properly measured—an apt assessment. I chuckled.

She flipped her hair and presented herself with a flourish. Finally, she bit her lip and lowered her chin. "Sir, do you not like what you see?"

"Yes, very amusing." He pushed his glasses up on his nose and sniffed. "There may be some vulgar enough to taste the fruit of an obsolete family."

She stood firm.

"I shall not take this as a slight to my honor. Unless…"

The woman could outbluff a stone wall. I marveled at her unwavering stance.

His voice took on a harder edge. "...you find it necessary to pester me?" He looked at Scarlett, then up at the cannon in his dumbot's hands.

Large enough to house the both of us, that cannon had the kill power to split a dreadnought, let alone vaporize our entire family with one blast.

"Please, Sir, will you not indulge me. There must be some way I can be of… service?"

He adjusted his head to look closer, then pointed at her. "Ahh! Oh, yes, I do recognize you."

She stood a bit taller.

"Apologies, Scarlett, sir. You do not dress as I imagined." He harrumphed a bit, and shrugged. "Tell your Master we've no interest in alliance."

Scarlett blushed at the change in attitude. "I am with Melihra no longer.

The man's jaw dropped and his lips curled. "I do not recognize ronins."

She cringed at his revulsion.

Ronin–the word didn't register, but his offense did. He looked at her like a monster, some kind of mutated traitor. By disclaiming her allegiance to Melihra, whoever that was, she shook him to the core.

He waved her away. "An errant Indur is the worst kind of Obsolete."

Scarlett stepped forward, pointing at the heart of his breastplate. "I'll have you know I am no Obsolete. Unlike you kluge–naturals–I complete my work."

He sneered and spat, "No, I do not suppose you are."

He meant that as a denial of her statement, suggesting that she was a runaway, rather than emancipated. If this continued, I could expect to be mourning her as well as my coming demise. Could I draw his attention away, before she brought death upon herself?

The Indur bit his lip. Pique curled to disgust as he looked Scarlett up and down. "In respect for your foolish master–respect you shall hopefully learn in your final moments–I shall forget your ignorant shenanigans and take my leave."

"Um," Scarlett said, holding his breastplate at the heart. "No, you can't, ah, mustn't."

"Your life is a gift, undeserved, for Melihra. To assuage her honor." He shook his head and shoved forward. "The foolish idealist must learn. Not one drop of blood to be seen–by friend or foe."

Scarlett, he meant to say, was the sign of a wound, a drop of blood. For an Indur to lose the loyalty of one of hers, was a call to her allies to destroy her, or be destroyed. Had Scarlett so retooled this Melihra that she could dare let Scarlett walk free? If so, Scarlett truly was a legend. I picked up the flaming pipe and lit it, held it aloft like the dreaded Eradis Plasmop that scoured all life from the Indur royal Palace.

"I have earned my…" As the two marched past, Scarlett looked back at me in horror.

Screwing my courage to the sticking point, I rushed them.

"As you will," she told the Indur, facing me instead.

"Get out of my way." My face burned with passion and my hands shook. I had to bluff her. "Get out of my way, or I swear we'll catch plasma together."

"If you want so badly to die," Scarlett hissed, "then you're going to have to take me with you."

I zigged to the right, swinging my pipe as if to lob it to the pompous Indur. She tangled everything.

Scarlett covered me, arms wide as if to embrace.

I aimed to shove past her as the Indur had, but she pulled me off my feet. The fall thudded in our bones as she caught me and we fell against the road.

She sighed, having adjusted so the fall would have drama and noise and little more. My years of life on the street had taught me to fight–but I lacked the musculature that I once had. More to the point, for my every move Scarlett readied the classic counter. She twisted and pulled so that I felt her weight, with no measure of her strength.

Frustration boiled to rage as I pushed against Scarlett, scrambling after my fate–the Eradis marching death.

She clung to me as the soldier and his death drone continued, oblivious to my plan.

I spat in the dirt. How could she? How dare she interfere in my life? Dragging her helplessly, falling back down, I ranted at the Indur, raging, "I will find you and kill your children you ignorant ronin-fucker."

The Indur turned on his heels.

I struggled a bit against my red-headed captor.

He cackled over his shoulder. "Ah, so that is the caper. I leave you to your machinations, Sir Scarlett." He saluted her and turned to leave.

"Are you insane, Caleb?" She hissed. "You'll get us both blasted."

"Not here." It wasn't insane to want to die, not here, if survival even happened on the dustball we called home–which for me, it couldn't. "Not on this world. You're insane, wanting to live."

Her grip around my shoulders tightened, and softened–everything softened. She forced the wells of hope and peace to overflow inside me. She whispered in my ear, "I know it's hard, Caleb."

I laughed, sagging against her superior force, mental and physical. "I can feel what you're doing. And, I thank you."

She just held me.

"I could do it, you know. Survive. To the bitter end. Just, no point."

The Indur's marching death thumped the dirt with his thousand-pound steel hooves and rattled our bones. She let her grip slip and flopped onto the dirt, "Where there's life there's hope,"

"Whatever might happen, I don't care." I rolled over to sit beside my savior, facing away from the Indur menace. "It's time."

She looked up at the sky, and smiled.

Evidently she saw confirmation of her efforts.

Her chin caressed my chest. "I have it on good authority–"

My body wanted to waken, like my seventeen-year-old self, but I burned those feelings away and pushed her back, gently but sternly. "Leave me alone, will you?"

She frowned. "Can't do that."

"For one night." I could make another attempt, find some hope for a replacement Caleb. Maybe her higher power knew something I didn't.

She stared at me, head tilted in that adorable look.

"I promise." I made the Indur symbol of promise with my fingers. Everyone honored it. All of Larrikesh had been burned, leaving only that part loyal to the Indur code. "Just a night of peace. I won't end it until the second wave of planetshadow."

She took my fingers in the expected counter-gesture. "I swear it."

The thrill of her touch made me hunger for life. Was this another sending–another time she used her psychic power as a medical gun, shooting her prescription into my soul? No, this time I felt the joy of meeting a kindred soul, someone who, like me, cared a bit too much about their fellow humans–and underneath all that manufactured-xeno glitz, she was undeniably human.

***

The crackling embers of Bigrath's cookfire fizzled and she added some more fuel.

I did not know why she insisted on using such a sideways technology. Maybe as a protest against the Eradis? Either way, it reminded me that if you could replace human tech with primitive, then you could replace natural things with tech. "The broom closet."

"What you need with all them lousy dust catcher drones."

"I've–" The warning thump made me gasp. "Got a plan."

"If they were any use they'd be offworld."

She was probably right. I nodded.

"They're not going to replace that pump, no matter how damaged they are."

"Not my blood pump I'm worried about replacing," I said, jumping on the nearest chariot. I was going to find someone to care for them in my place."It's my heart."

Bigrath jumped up and took two steps toward me. "You're talking nonsense. Get back here and enjoy the time you have left."

The stress of just waiting had me half crazy. "Not even if I wanted to." I turned the control rod.

She ran after me. "Please, don't."

She needed me, but she needed to make other connections if this didn't work. Could a drone actually tend to the spiritual needs of a group of Obsolete rabble? I dared not hope. I thought of my friend's boy. "Take Challry. Teach him to cook."

She chased after me for seven chariot-lengths. "The Ovens with that, Caleb. I can do that any day."

The "Broom Closet" is a prison for unwanted drones. Or, more properly, a storage room with a guard.

The man guarding the place, Yitzhak, technically belonged to the Indur. He had a gray uniform, and a pistol at his side, but otherwise looked and behaved like a human.

I cringed at that thought, noting that Indur were technically as human as we were, if not more so in their flesh and blood. Purebred nobility, they didn't go for any of the edited breeds that popped up. But on the inside? Most of these gun-toting madmen acted more like Eradis than people. Snead Yitzhak though, wasn't most Indur. I slowed my ride. "Snead?"

"Caleb you old skater, I thought they blasted you years ago."

I beat my chest. "Right in the old pump."

Snead hissed at the cringey comment and shook his head. "I meant after that. Good to see you still ticking."

I jumped down and bumped elbows with the man. "Like a time bomb. I might need to see one of your prisoners."

Snead shrugged and looked up at the building. "You break 'em we pay you."

The sign on the building read, "Automatic Emporium." At one time, people actually paid real credits for these things–before they began to improve and reproduce. Before these drones' children's children rendered not only each other, but all of humanity, hopelessly Obsolete–except to those few so obstinate as to pass on their Indur rank and sow chaos through the world. "Ah, and here I was thinking we'd make it interesting by stealing one of them."

"Bring it back and I have to shoot you."

I looked at him. Was he serious? I looked for a crack in the smile.

"Seriously, take it but don't bring it back."

I rushed past him.

These drones loomed, far too large and clunky for their apparent purpose. I ducked under the leg of one that was as tall as a second story floor with what seemed like a catwalk above me.

The vibrations of its primitive engine rumbled through the floor as it shuffled out of my way.

The red one had soft, gentle lines and a size that suggested it was built for domesticity.

I approached it.

The drone raised its face and stared directly at me. "Access sequence rejected due to unlicensed hardware."

"I just need to…"

"The 3706 December 12 Fair Corporate Standards Act prohibits the creation or commissioning of any device capable of interacting with an unlicensed hardware or the user of said device."

These heaps insisted on quoting pre-imperial Terran gobbledygook. "That was a thousand years ago on a planet that–"

"Please contact the manufacturer of your implant or decommission it."

"It will kill me to do that."

"Responsible technology use requires the maintenance of intellectual property rights." The domestic drone whirred at me as it tried to stand.. "There should be significant penalties for those who choose not to respect the boundaries."

"The people who own those rights are long dead." I again paused to suppress the urge to kick the helpless drone. "The corporations are long since dissolved."

"I have no record of reversion to the commons for your license."

I looked around as if the other drones might clue me in. "Do you have the contact information for the license owner?"

"The information you specified requires accessing the data on your device."

These old heaps could be so obstinately literal. "So, do that."

"I am not authorized to interact with or operate on an illegally-functioning device. Please restore your license or decommission the device."

"It's my heart. You want me to turn off my heart."

The drone blinked. "You agreed. The terms of use are very clear."

"Okay." My hands shook as I, trying to keep my calm, ran my fingers through my hair and danced in a helpless circle. "Okay. I need a drone that can emulate my personality."

"I have that capability. My purpose is fostering a brood, standing in loco parentis."

"You are designed to provide emotional support and counseling to a group of people?"

The lights in the drone's eyes blinked. "That is case number 12. Considered a central function of my design."

I took a deep breath. "Good. Access my records and form a profile. My brood is the people of my community."

"Unable to comply."

In the back rooms of my mind, dreadful agents took up positions. I barred the door. Surely there would be an access point–some way to move forward. "What? You said that was your purpose."

"Affirmative."

"Then why can't–"

"The Fair Corporate Standards Act strictly prohibits action designed to override or circumvent a lawful license. Said action to include repair, diagnosis, or replacement of improperly acquired or operated devices."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"Restore the license or decommission the device."

I needed a replacement before I went out. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Contact the corporation that manufactured–"

"Who is that?"

"The Fair Corporate Standards Act prohibits–"

"Stop, just stop." I pressed my temples to hold my skull together.

"Autonomic readings suggest critical care is necessary."
This dumbot–for it was as Terran and vicious as the Eradis, even if outwardly more civilized, eh, civilian–would prove useless at best. I addressed the giant in the room, the incomprehensibly weird three legged thing between whose feet I stood. "Can you help me access the contact information for my blood pump?"

"Apologies, human." Its slow voice rumbled and boomed as the giant slid its central body between the two mobile posts so that it could come nearer to me. "The nanny unit's language model may be in need of refurbishing but her conclusion appears unassailable."

"Then there's no hope?"

"Why do you not contact the unit that installed your upgrade?"

"It was the last one, was destroyed by an Eradis."

"How is that possible?" the giant said. "Records indicate that Eradis were never deployed. They were only supposed to activate if humanity faced an extinction event."

That explained so much. We had found them on our moon, Larrik Three Alpha, and reprogrammed them. "Three hundred years ago we salvaged them. Used them as royal maids and police."

"The Eradis processor can barely manage to aim and shoot. I grieve to hear this news."

"Sometimes I think humans are no better."

"The human brain is supremely equipped if properly programmed."

"Nobody seems to know how to do that."

The strange giant drone paused. "I grieve for you. I hope that your transition to a defunct state will be … is the word, 'dignified?' It's been so long since I have interacted with your make."

"That's the last thing I'm worried about." A twinge in my shins made me realize it might not be the last. "At any rate, thank you for the good word."

"I am pleased to operate in accordance with your specifications, gentle human."

***
Pacing about the ruined marketplace, I watched the rising planetshadow paint the sky brown. It marked the end of my promised time. Unable to extend my life, unable to secure a replacement, I looked forward to ending my life on my own terms.

Predictably, the crimson menace, Scarlett, appeared, crouched and running.

Two hovering drones with yellow eyes chased her toward me. Their plasma blasts raised smoking clouds of dust at her feet.

I needed to get out of there and my feet started running for the nearest door–an abandoned storefront–before noting that the harmless yellow plasma would be annoying at worst. Raised in the Larrikeshi tradition of civil war, one tended to dodge first and ask questions later, if ever. I reached up to open the door.

She zigged toward me, arms wide, and shoved me through the door.

I slammed it in their face.

"You've…" She paused to roleplay huffing and puffing. "...got to help me."

"Thank the mainframe." I looked out the spyhole in the blinds. "At least, those aren't Eradis. What have you stepped in?"

"My prime owners." Her smile of duper's delight only flashed a second. "Don't accept Obsolescence."

I smirked a bit and pulled at the blinds, wondering if they might pose real danger. "They going to recycle you?"

She sobbed a bit, though her eyes were dry and as green as ever as she took me by the hand. She radiated a thrill of fear. "But you can help me."

I glared at the drones. I'd never learned to destroy things–what if they actually did pose a threat? "Not much of a combatant here."

The bots fired at the door. "Scarlett 37d, your contract is null. Defective units must be recycled."

I saw her startle at the words, as she held against the door.

I wasn't so sure that this was an act–though the surprise could have been at the skill of her stooge drones. Their language left a lot to be desired.

Leaning against the door, she pulled a card out of her pocket, size of a creditkeeper. It blossomed to a device the size of a human heart. She held it toward me.

I liked a heroic sacrifice better than the stupid end I had planned. "Run out the back door. I probably won't destroy them, but I could slow them down."

She shook her head, still faking the heavy breathing, and waved the device in my face. "You can do a lot more."

That–it couldn't be that. That device turned people into slaveowners. I suddenly wanted to vomit. "I'll fight like an Indur but…"

"So it's too much to ask?" She pouted, avoiding my eyes as hers turned white. "You'll die for me but I'm not worth living for?"

"I am not a monster. Not some Indur warmonger that needs to own people."

Her eyes flickered with recognition and regret as she touched my chest and poured it full of soothing energy. "It isn't so sad, to belong to someone."

As if anybody cared that she could get used to that abuse. I swallowed down any thought of another meaning. I slapped aside her hand. "Go kiss a wild katt, you ridiculous mindwitch."

"You? You're right." She dropped her hand. "Of course, you're right. I rely too much on my power. All I have is my humanity, and my masters have devalued that."

"No, they can't. Just because they don't respect…"

She held up a hand and shook her head. "They've made me fear to rely on it. I am asking you, one sentient to another. Please. It's not slavery, just ownership."

She softened me a touch, just enough to not yell at her.

"Responsibility. In the eyes of the law."

"I am not…" A lump formed in my throat. I heard her message, that there was something good in being claimed, even with such a barbaric device. "... have no right."

"In their eyes, you do."

I saw my flash of raging horror as she flinched. She took a breath, and slowly whispered, "In my eyes, you do."

This stood against everything I had ever known, about myself and about right and wrong. "I am just Obsolete. Not even a very good one."

She squeezed my hand, and proffered her antagonizer, a look of confidence–even victory–in her eyes as they blushed ever so slightly from green to purple. "I am at your mercy. If you feel my life is valid, you must claim me."

"I don't know. Am I worthy? I have no authority."

"That's a myth. The myth of the Indur, one that makes them small and harms the people around them. Speak up for me against the myth." She handed her device into my hands. "This is my fate in your hands. Whether for life or death."

I swallowed. This was another of her games–but I dared not assume she made the rules. "You want to live?'

Scarlett nodded.

"I hate this. With every fiber of my being."

It surprised her, but she continued, "You'll have to live, in order to protect me."

I nodded, and put my thumb into the slavemaker.

It whirred to life and grafted the control ring. The buttons lit up. She knocked on the door.

The bots blasted the lock and pushed in. "Scarlett 37d, prepare to end runtime."

"Scarlett belongs…"

Scarlett put her hand on my shoulder, a gentle nudge.

I nodded. "She belongs to me." I showed them the antagonizer ring grafted to my thumb.

"In order to assure you get the respect you deserve," the drone, marked A55, whirred at me. "Without harming your new friend, we have installed pain and reward buttons."

B665 added, "Observe as we demonstrate the pain."

"It's not your fault, Caleb." Her voice tightened and her face twitched. She held her breath to squelch the scream into a pitiful whimper. "It's going to be okay."

The device drove her to her knees, left her ribs pulsing after air.

I growled and kicked at the drones. "I should destroy you."

When it was done, she gasped hungrily for air. "It's not over."

"Are you insane?"

A55's eyes flashed. "Hit the pain button to demonstrate your mastery."

Scarlett grabbed my wrist. "Hit it twice for half effect."

"I will do no such thing."

"Refusal of mastery process invalidates his claim. Prepare for recycling."

The look on her face burned horribly in my mind. Hands over the trigger, I twitched. "I can't–just, can't."

Lying there, looking up at me, there flickered a shock of recognition–bittersweet compassion?–and regret over her studiously exotic, fake-alien face. Gently she put her hand over mine. "Allow me." She put my fingers into place and gritted her teeth before activating the final sequence.

Awkward jerking and shuddering horror reddened, heated, and pulsed in every inch of her body, inside out. Though she held her breath as best as she could, the device beat mild whimpers out of her until the battery blotted out her consciousness.

I stroked her blood-red hair as I cradled her poor, abused body in my lap, my helpless tears dripping all over her face.

When she awakened, the drones beeped at me. "Congratulations on your new acquisition."

The other added, "Condolences on your reaction. A suggestion has been logged that model 67b should have a more civilized mastery sequence to cater to the Obsolete demographic." A55 floated out of the storefront.

"Your new friend has emotional synthesizers that soothe the experience and prevent damage to her nervous system." The second bot floated after.

"Hello, Master," Scarlett said, her voice shaky. "I am at your pleasure."

"Don't say that." I hugged her, against the pain of what I had seen–as if she'd caught Eradis plasma, only to be brought back so that she could do it again. "Please, please, don't say that."

Her look of helpless sadness filled the room. Her feeble, trembling hands gripped my wrist. "Hold me. Keep me safe."

Sadness didn't fit the ordeal she had gone through, not quite. I think she really hoped for me to get some kind of… pleasure?–from her horrific status. I grabbed a towel from the bar and began to dab the sweat from her body. We sat there, recovering together, until we finally slept.

***

After a long rest, Scarlett stirred.

My sleeping brain barely heard her sitting above me, as she murmured, "Oh, sweet master, how are you SO sensitive?"

I felt her presence, an otherworldly calm coming from deep inside me, and deeper still inside of her. Half asleep, I didn't bother to question it, and rested in that place. I don't think I have ever felt so safe.

She crawled over me and slipped under my arms.

In that state, it seemed natural, invited. I slipped deeper into the comfort of her protection–for even if safety was a lie, she would do everything possible to make good on it–and the luxury of her embrace.

She slipped her hands over my shoulder. She purred in my ear, "Master?

Confusion melted to satisfaction as I recognized her. I loved that she still lived. "They really going to leave us alone?"

Scarlett bowed her head down, and stroked my chest, down toward my belly. "Yes, Master. If I please you." She projected the thought of being rejected–the memory of how Melihra felt?– and held that in her mind, cringing even as she remained in my embrace.

That message shook me. "Are you alright?"

She projected a deep, squirmy, half-conscious discomfort, and let these thoughts play on her face in a look that should have driven a man wild. "I can bring you delight. It will bring you strength. Whatever you might require, speak it to me."

She thought she could save me by this strange play she directed–did not know my death already had been written into the script a few days ahead. I pulled from her arms. "I'm sorry, I don't quite…"

She reached out, held me by my shoulder. "Speak your wish, that I might fulfill you."

"What are you doing?"

Her purple-tinted eyes looked shocked as she searched my eyes–and my mind–for answers. She cringed. "Please, if you will only take what is yours…"

"You do not belong to me."

"Don't I? I owe my life to you."

I brushed her hand off my shoulder. "That's what any decent man would do."

She touched me on the cheek. "But you are not a decent man, are you? Not just."

I slid out from the bedding and stood up. "You know this isn't right."

Her eyes blanched to whitening blue. "So my life means nothing to you."

I tilted my head and scowled. "How do you mean?"

"If I am not your servant, then I am to be recycled."

"But I have claimed you."

"For how long? How long will you choose to live like this–a day, a week?"

I have no choice in this matter. Why did she fight that so hard? She was not new to Larrikesh. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" She knelt before me. "You're a decent man, but this? It doesn't harm me. I am made–"

"Please, Scarlett. You are not some contraption. You are a person."

I could almost hear her objecting, that she had been conceived in a factory. That her mind was regulated by machines older than the ones in the broom closet. I saw her first memory–waking on a shelf in a cube of packing gel, being 'rescued' by a broken man who had taken to collecting unwanted, abused slaves. A man whose decency had been disfigured by the collapse of Larrikesh–only to be reassembled by her.

The psionic wave nearly bowled me over. I stepped back half a step.

"If you want me to continue to be a person, then you must partake of what I have to offer."

"You are beautiful, and incandescent." I shook my head. "The look in those blue eyes is electrifying."

"Just tell me what I can do for you. Where to touch you…" She put her hand toward my hips.

I dodged. "That doesn't make it right."

"Not everything has to be right." She raised her hands in a pleading gesture. "Can you not simply enjoy what you have earned? The bounty of your sacrifice, a gift for a gift. It is not too much."

"I can feel the fear you have. Of the bots who sold you–or something else?" My death frightens her. I shook my head. "I wish I could. Oh, to the ovens with how I wish I could."

"I exist to give you what you need…."

"Is that what your Indur masters told you? Even in this waste-ball of a world, that is sooo…"

"No, I am different. This…"

She's just normal. "...Obsolete. No different than any of us. You just still have hope."

"Please, don't leave. You need me."

"So that is what this is about." I let out a long sigh and walked out the door. "I'll be back."

The door swung shut behind me. She didn't follow.

***

I stalked out of the plaza, past a building.

I couldn't believe that woman. She was so… invasive. Who told her she had to save me?

I found a water fountain–really more of a hose attached to a pipe.

The water came out a bit dirty at first.

"What is wrong with that woman? What right did she have to keep me here. To save me?"

An Indur woman strode up, hand on her pistol. "You wanna turn off the flow?"

"I was gonna take a drink here."

"Really? You notice all that water going on the ground?"

"Lot of waste in this world." I took a drink and switched off the spigot.

She pulled her pistol and pointed at my blood pump. "Careful. This is… precious to you, isn't it?"

"Not as much as you'd think."

That knocked her back a nudge. She put her weapon back in its place and looked me over. "Ah, well, I like your stones."

"And I hate yours." I pointed at her breast. "What is that in there, a rock? Even the oven-baked drones are kinder than that."

She smirked and turned away. "Gone mad, have you? Can't blame you."

"It's the way you try to control us." I pointed at her face. "We could deal with the dumbots. Or not. But you all…"

"Be glad there isn't one here. They'd already have us both blasted away."

"I thought hearts were precious. To their owners at least."

"Nevermind," she said. "Just, be on about it."

I balled up my fist. Her chin was in reach. Both our problems would be over, as far as I was concerned.

She licked her teeth and shrugged. "Not so easy, is it. Should be able; it's just in reach." She tilted her head to make her jaw a little more accessible.

I turned away.

"Believe me, I know. Don't even think we're human, and still. You can't." She shrugged and leaned in. "Place like this, you cling to life. Cause if you didn't, your parents wouldna ever had kids."

I scratched my head. "I guess that makes sense."

She shook her head. "Not unless you're some scientist. But it's true." She handed me a bottle from her pack.

I took it.

"Anybody asks, you swiped it. It's good. Perfect salt, just what the drone formulated."

I opened it. It had a brackish taste that was unpleasant but very compelling. I drank it down.

She whispered to me, "Before the Undertaking struck, we used to work for you guys."

The Indur worked for the king's family. I knocked back my head.

"The constitution. Sure, we owned your rights, so that we could advocate for you. Indur and the royals did the stupid government crap so that you could do the important stuff."

I looked at her.

"I'm sorry the world's insane. They didn't teach us. We didn't know what to do. Didn't know how."

I noticed her uniform. Most of her ilk went for the shiny silver; I had rarely seen the matte-gray.

"Melihra. She's… making changes. We're going to take our world back."

Melihra–that was Scarlett's last master, wasn't it?

"Just keep your head down, and be ready."

I nodded.

"I know you know. Now you know I know." She tapped fists with me and left.

Scarlett really made that much difference. I could not even begin to think of it. Sure, she had been threatening me, a little bit of indur swagger, but my words alone should have triggered her weapon. "Damn, Scarlett. I didn't know you had it in you." Or that they had it in them.

***

If I chose to remain alive, I needed to fill the holes inside me. The questions would wait; my stomach demanded attention. When had I last eaten?

Cherelle lugged her laundry box down the way.

"Thought we'd have to shoot your birds."

"They're not eating hens, Cherelle." I opened the door across the street from my coop.

"Why do you keep your birds in such an out-the-path place?"

I pursed my lips and paused, then winked. "Other than to make you ask questions?"

"Nobody gonna steal your eggs, old man."

"Keeps them safe and keeps me limber, if not honest."

That knocked her back. "What you beeping about, drone-for-brains?"

I stepped halfway into the building, an old jewelry store. "Man steals a bird's eggs, ought to have to climb a bit. Some kind of risk."

"What stealing? They're your birds."

"They're their own birds and the eggs belong to them." I winked at Cherelle. "Don't tell me you've gone Indur on me."

"You've gone Terran if you think I've gone Indur." She spat in her own box. "I mean, I get it, but you sure it's not your brain that's past its license?"

I hoped her clothes were still dirty. "Nah, just the pump." I let the door close.

She picked up the box–which had wheels more than capable of going past the rough patches–and stomped off.

I stepped up the stairs with enthusiasm, enjoying the surge of energy that came with exertion–my pump would fail all at once, with no half-measures or cost for exertion.

I smiled on the bar that ran from the jewelry store to the roof where my coop stood–was it a pipe? It was barely the size of my foot in diameter, so I would need to concentrate, but I could walk it like a katt on an avenue.

Scarlett's voice boomed in my head, a psychic projection. "I told you…"

I felt like she was not talking to me–like she was lost in her own drama. The walk across might be objectively dangerous, but aside from her embrace, no other place felt as safe as the tightrope walk. There, and only there, did my actions determine my fate. I strode across that gap like a king.

She tried again, "I told you not to…"

Her psychic voice trailed off in confusion as I stepped onto the ledge.

"Thank the stars," she said.

This wasn't projected, but I could hear people's thoughts a little–especially hers. She had a nice voice, when it wasn't all faked and manipulative. I continued to the coop.

Each of the birds had a name, more a set of whistles. To humans, I described the whistles. Rhapsody had a fresh batch of eggs, and Dirge also, but Ditty and Jingle had empty nests.

They didn't seem to mind me stealing their eggs, and instead pecked at the seed I threw them from the dispenser.

A little hoverdrone filled the dispenser as I returned to the ledge with a handful of eggs. "Sorry there. Thought you might be hungry." I set the eggs in the basket and lowered it down.

Scarlett ran her fingers through that rich mane of red hair. "Let me get a ladder."

I looked both ways. "First you make us Indur, now we're Terran?" I laughed.

"Just don't do that again, please."

The tone in her voice rattled me, and I got serious. "You all right, kiddo? Pretty sensitive for an Indur."

"Just, please, Master. Go through the building."

I tapped my forehead in an exaggerated salute. "Aye aye aye, Commander Indur slavegirl. Problem, though. Didn't bring my pistol."

"Just, what?"

"Nobody's getting through that hatch unless they blast through." The door got rusted shut, or welded. Been bashed at quite a bit in the years since, to no effect. "Been that way over a hundred rotations. Before grandad was born, 'less I miss my guess."

Scarlett shook her head up at me. "Why under the Larrikeshi-green-sky would you put your bird coop there?"

"Why not? It's out of the way."

She left me–even from up there I could see the long-ago-far-away look: Shellshock. I let her speak.

"Dangerous. Could get hurt."

Every moment of every day. "We're policed by Eradis. Even the Indur aren't safe."

The tension became absurd. I cleared my throat. "Life here is for the lucky and the stupid."

Scarlett watched Cherelle huff at me as she dragged that silly box of clothes about. She hollered up at me, "Lucky and bold."

"Same thing, Cherelle."

"Cherelle, is there a ladder?" She bit her lip, knowing there would be no such thing.

"Safety tools?" Cherelle chuckled at Scarlett and shook her head. Pointing at the pipes, she said, "Indur girl, by time they fetch the toy from Terra, Caleb's crossed over twenty times."

Scarlett shuddered.

I didn't know if it was for my situation, or the frisson of the greater truth. Either one had enough heft.

The big woman glared at her box of clothes and hiked the thing up to carry it over a rough patch of road.

Having gotten my eggs down, I walked toward the pipe.

"Please, Caleb, find a safer way across."

She really needed me to play safe. I continued on.

"Please, Caleb, I need you. The bots?"

She had options. I stopped in front of the pipes and looked down at her. "Cherelle will take your ring if I fall."

Cherelle spat. "I'll dance between blasting dumbots before I turn Indur princess."

If Scarlett could melt the heart of this Melihra, she could bend Cherelle. "Nah, she'll explain."

Scarlett shook her head. "Needs to hear it from you."

It takes one to know one, and I knew she was one hundred times better than I ever could be. "I'm good, but I'm not Scarlett-good." I strode onto the pipe.

She ran into the building.

Halfway up I heard a scream–a psychic scream.

As I stepped on the ledge, she burst out the door.

I smiled at her. "I don't know wha–"

She ran forward and hugged me like a dying son. "Don't you ever do that again."

I met her embrace with a ginger tap to her shoulders. "All right. What was that about?"

She buried her face in my shoulders. "I don't know. I lost someone, a woman on–on a ledge. She was–much better than me."

The real issue everyone in the ovens of Larrikesh dealt with. I held her. "I know. I know. That's why I want to go join them."

"You can't. I…"

I knew. Lords of sand and sky, I knew. What could I say–what could I do? I simply held her.

"I can't do it without you."

I pushed her away, and nudged her chin up. "You're much better at this than me." We both knew I was right, of course; on the surface.

A sick look on her face as she tried to be honest with that. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it? I can tell, you've been around." I stepped aside, waved my arms about. "Seen more of this…"

She clutched her fist as if around a bottle of mind-numbing poison. Something, I gathered, a dread shade worse than the vile rot we'd find in Johm Colmey's rusting stills. Despite being on a stable floor, far from the ledge, she kept her eyes up off the floor.

Eye to eye, nose to nose, we shared a moment fully aware of the dreadful power of caring about the fragile lives of other people.

I cleared my throat. "Yet you never lose your strength."

She tilted her head and closed in, sharing breath.

I looked away. "You're going to try to kiss away the pain, aren't you?"

She looked down, blushed.

"It's tempting, but…" I lifted her chin. "It's not enough."

"Doesn't have to be." She traced her fingers at my hairline. "It's offered without reservation."

"Maybe I… before I go?" I turned from her, walked into the jewelry store.

***

"Hey Caleb," Colmey's son, Challry said. "Talked to your girlfriend."

"Not my girlfriend." I crouched to talk to him. "And did you now?"

Challry's eyes danced. "Did you marry her?"

Marriage! My eyes went down to the control ring. Is that what this was? "Um…"

"Went to give out her share of the mushrooms." He giggled. "The yucky ones. She needed them."

"Good, I like those."

"That's 'cause you're old." Challry danced around. "She told Bigrath she's an Eradis and fought with her."

"Slow down. What do you mean?"

"Bigrath was mad for my talking to your girl after she said not to." He shrugged. "And she stood up to Bigrath."

"That's amazing."

"Nu uh," Challry said. "That's nothing. She walked up and convinced Bigrath to calm down."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. She said, 'I see what you're teaching' and 'then teach me' and 'that's what we all want, keep Challry safe.'"

If only I could get Scarlett to be there, for my people, I could die secure in the future. "And then what happened?"

"Bigrath said it's not enough, so Scarlett–" He looked behind him to see if she was there. "She up and said, 'it's not enough, just a start.' Bigrath heard her. She really heard that."

I took a deep breath. Bigrath changed her mind about Scarlett, wondered if maybe the mindwitch belonged. "That's a pretty cute trick, isn't it."

"It's legendary." He punched the air. "I knew she was 'the Scarlett.'"

"What are you talking about." I ruffled the boy's hair. "That's just a story."

"Sometimes the story happened."

I gave the boy a playful slap on his shoulder and shoved him out of the room. "See you."

***

"Talked to Challry." I bit at one of the mushrooms Challry had given Scarlett. "That–the way you stood up to her! Some old-timey Indur-legend ink."

"It's nothing. Bihlitth–that's her name, right?–not so tough. Just needed to blow off steam."

Hardly. Bigrath had something even the mad Indur lacked–a grit and gravitas. "Bigrath. Looking into her eyes, even Indur blink."

She smiled as if she caught me in something. "Not you."

That's different. I'd known Bigrath my entire life–grown up with her. "I know what's behind her bluster."

She caught my gaze, looked down at the mushrooms, and looked back up at me before cutting off the best part. "They're not ready to go without you."

I put my hand on her knuckles, to stop her. "You can't walk away."

She met my gaze with stone-cold apathy, eyes fairly glowing green in the sunlight. "Won't have a choice."

"No. There's another option. Another way?"

She shook her head, and sliced the mushroom again, ruining bits of it. "Sometimes you lose a bunch."

She wasn't talking about mushrooms; she meant my friends. The people who needed her. "How can you be so cold?"

"You have a courage they lack, but opening your heart isn't always enough." She shook her head. "Every day I dither, someone dies."

Disgust filled me. People would die–worse, they would wither in the heat of the Larrikeshi society. I gave her a stare as cold and heartless as the core of an Eradis cannon. "This is… monstrous."

"I know."

"You know everything, don't you? Scarlett the wizard-one, mindwitch extraordinaire." I turned. "You cannot be so cold."

"I have endured worse than any human mind could bear." She took a long, deep breath. "I have watched more tragic deaths than the count of lives you will ever meet."

"How can you shake it off? How can you keep going?"

I lost her again. I could see that–she wandered in the maze of forgotten memory–of women on ledges, lost love, shattered hope a thousand years gone by.

She thought about the prosthetics–the many devices and surgeries that propped up the woman she thought she was. "I am more machine than human, I guess?"

Clearly she thought I was accusing her of something. Unable to reach her, I turned away.

"That does not mean…"

I couldn't listen to any more excuses. I ran from the kitchen, into the dusty plaza.

***

What was there to find? Death was the only escape, and I reckoned I wouldn't find it until it came for me in the shutdown of my heart.

I wandered the desolate wasteland of that nameless Larrikeshi town. Why had none of us simply left? Why did we stay in a place so barren?

I imagined that if we ever got a moment's rest, then we would be filled with an unrelenting sanity that would drive us from our homes. We would find a ship and we would leave Larrikesh.

And I immediately knew those of us that didn't go completely mad in the safety of the wild black–or even of other, more civilized worlds–would find our way back here.

I knew that all those who had it in them to leave and to stay away, had left our world hundreds of years ago.

I felt a warning thump–no, this was from Scarlett.

"Hello? Scarlett?"

The control lights on the ring flashed, as though she were calling me.

I hit it to answer, then hit it again…

The sense of horror I got over our connection told me I had gotten it wrong. I had initiated the mastery sequence.

I ran back to our camp as fast as I could.

Challry's voice rang out through the ruined down, amid shattered buildings and sandblasted battlezones. "Help, help. Scarlett needs help."

I followed the call as fast as I could.

I pulled off my jacket for her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Challry looked up at me. "How… how did this happen?"

I ran into the kitchen where Scarlett lay. "It's a thing she does." I wrapped the stupid jacket around her, as if that might help her somehow. Sweat beaded on her clammy skin.

"She didn't deserve to be hurt like that." Challry gave me Eradis eyes. "Did your heart already stop?"

His accusatory glare held enough truth to send shivers down my stomach lining. "I pushed the wrong button?" The routine worked; I wanted to wrap her up and hold her like a crying baby.

"Can't you help her? If you didn't mean it."

"She'll be alright." I hoped.

Challry stood over her. "Wake up. Please."

"Don't believe her." I thought I saw her eyelashes flutter. I wanted to think she was fine, that this antagonizer of hers only tickled. "She's playing dead. That's the whole idea–make us think we won."

Challry looked down, brows furrowed. "Even dumbots don't shoot dead rocks."

"Now you're getting it." I felt her forehead, and chided myself for playing into this psychodrama.

Challry jumped. "She blinked! She's back!"

"Like I said." I hadn't seen it, and half believed she was faking anyhow.

Challry limped forward. "Bigrath said you were there when…"

The thought of seeing Colmey lose his life stung my eyes. I made a tangling motion with my fingers. "Your dad and I…"

"Tell me."

I sat him down on the stool. Fortunately, Ob17 wasn't the only one who knew medicine by the light of the green-tinged campfire. "Johm Colmey had a laugh that could make the drones weep with envy."

Challry laughed. "That's one hot lie. But tell me real."

"I always tried to scare him, you know?" The thoughts of those languid summer nights spent playing hide and pounce brought a sense of relief. As if my friend hid round the corner. "I must have looked the fool trying to grab him like a wild katt."

Surprise and delight at the thought of his dad playing such childish games crossed his face.

I got real serious. I could almost hear Colmey say, "Tell him. Let me tell him."

I leaned in to Challry. "Do you know what he would tell you?" Of course not; even I didn't.

Challry shook his head.

I let Colmey's voice grab me how it wanted. "You're my boy. I'm proud of ya, always have been, always will."

"Dad? Is that you?"

I nodded. "They're all here. Everyone I ever knew. Even you."

"Let him out!"

"That's not how it works. Not the best way."

Challry bent his head to the side. "Huh?"

I had never put it into words. "When I do it, it's real to me. But to you it's just a performance."

"So there's no way."

"They're all here. Nobody ever leaves." I tapped his head. "But, you can't meet the ones you never met."

"So it's hopeless."

I knelt down and brought him closer. "Not at all. Did you ever use one of those comms radios?"

He shook his head. "But grandpa did."

"So you know how your Da could be calling you, but if it's not tuned in..."

"So, I've been ignoring him all my life?"

"He's okay. They're all warm and safe and good."

"How do you know?"

"Reach out and ask him."

Challry frowned and looked down. After a minute he smiled. "That's amazing."

"Now you go run along. Tell your Da all the stuff you been saving up."

I saw Scarlett looking triumphantly at me, hands on her hips with an I-told-you-so smile.

And there I was again, looking down at Colmey, head shattered by a drunken Indur playing with a pipe. "Don't."

"Your life has value."

"And Colmey is dead. And all the others. And there is nothing you can say that will change that."

She tilted her head.

She knew better than to argue with a wound. As did I. The two truths coexisted, even if it wasn't clear how. I groaned and continued, "And even if you go back in time they'll die. Not like they're supposed to but in hard, terrible, stupid ways." The pain and rage bubbled up from inside me.

She stood there with me, in the face of that pain.

I couldn't tell whether the Scarlett in front of me was the human or the machine: was she a compassionate stoic, a fellow warrior, or a sympathetic robot? "I–here I am, telling Challry that they're okay."

She looked up for a moment. "Are they?"

That question shocked me. I stood there in the massive monstrosity of the moment, realizing that yes. Everything I said had been true–to all I knew. "They are."

"Then, maybe you have your answer?" She turned to the side.

I felt her releasing me, giving me space. I sidled up to her, and faced the same way. "I have to go."

She grabbed my arm, her eyes blanching white.

By now I gathered that whitening meant pain, or at least distress. "Not like that. We still have time. I need to decompress."

***

It hadn't been long–I only needed to clear my head. This was important, my last chance to help her. "Listen, Scarlett, I know you mean well. But my time is near."

"No, you don't understand."

I looked deep into her eyes, gestured as if brushing hair off her forehead. I smiled, ruefully. Had I waited too late? "Somebody doesn't."

"I'm not asking you to stop running. Learn to look forward, to run toward the people."

I nodded, turning to place her beside me as I led her to walk with me. "Yes, that message is what you need."

She pinched between her eyes, underneath the brow ridge. "It's what you need."

"Once upon a time, I did. It's how I made it so long." I sat down on a boulder, and offered her a drink from an old, terran bottle. "I did need a refresher, I guess."

She took the drink.

The stuff burned like fermented tubers and smelled of concrete and fossil fuels.

Her face showed every bit of the badness of the drink. "Tchya. I was sent to help you."

"Think so?" It made sense. Everything she did was about what other people needed, like she didn't count. Man, she might be older than me–but she hadn't aged. "I'm glad you're one of the souls I'm taking with me."

She shook her head. "No, that can't be."

"Not how long, it's how well." I took a drink.

She took one with me.

We watched as the planetshadow rose, the green sky browning out to black. Much like the sunset of my life. "Every day ends where it begins. This device wasn't meant to live this long in this hard a world."

She knew I meant my body. The flesh and blood was the machine–as much as the Terran implant.

She shuddered. "Please."

"I am glad that I spent these days with you." I shook my head. "The license is running out. Spend these last minutes with me–my fellow medic of the heart."

Her irises turned violet, and black tears welled up in her eyes.

"You honor me." By the shades of violet and black, the machines expressed her love, pure and free, without reservation. "If that means what I think…"

"Why were you looking to go out…"

"I feared this would be painful." Awkward, waiting for those last seconds alone. Sputtering, gasping? I'd never seen anybody with one of these. But, more importantly… "Thought I had helped everybody I could."

She pinched off the machine in her wrist, unleashing a wave of grief for all the people she had ever known. It rushed over us. I felt every thought, every impression as she let go.

"You're not the only one more machine than man." I caressed her cheek with the upper knuckles. "Not the only one who has to come to terms with their human side."

Wave after wave of sorrow hit in the space of one breath. The pain washing over her felt not unlike the mastery sequence; we struggled for breath. The finality of my passing, of all their passing, hit her in the lungs. She couldn't tell if death had taken their breath, or hers.

When, at long last, her eyes cleared, I–Caleb, the flesh and circuits machine– breathed no more.

I watched as she wondered: Had it really been about her own reason for being? Could she be so important that the Stars had sent her to me, to monopolize a man's last days?

Gingerly, Scarlett took my hand.

The control ring fell to the ground.

She collected it. "Like that, is it?"

As her last master, Melihra, had said.

The serene features of my body offered her no comfort.

She wanted to accuse, to threaten, to stop me. To somehow prove to me she wasn't ready. Holding my hand against hers, she again quoted Melihra: "You promised. You owe me," she breathed, embracing the hypocrisy.

She had been no more responsive than my own body would be.

Those eyes that had been mine stared up at the sky as the browning planetshadow revealed the Stars.

She rose up and howled to the Stars above: "No! No. You promised."

The Stars remained unmoved.

The desperate courage of the moment showed a Scarlett more bereft than ever. Yet also one more alone than ever she would be. Each wave of grief revealed the presence of another of her fallen friends. Out of sight but palpably near, we lined up behind her. Thus bolstered, she knelt down. Taking my hand in hers, she faced me.

Bruise-black tears–drenched in the pain of helpless love–dripped between their fingers, trailing down my cold arm.