Murderbot Collaboration (2nd entry, chapter 10)

[game_byrd]

Prompt: Back at the enemy base, the leadership is not pleased with the underlings for not succeeding, and dispense punishment.

Rho:

I was despondently watching the humans argue about the watch schedule when I got a ping. It was obviously from one of the enemy SecUnits. Who else would be pinging me out here? Our own SecUnits would have used a different protocol. This one was mimicking Sigma’s, which was depressing and sick, but hardly surprising. I didn’t answer but I did move to alert status and double-checked all inputs. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Except the ping. It didn’t repeat.

Minutes passed and it still didn’t repeat, which irritated me. Why were they wasting my time if they weren’t serious about this? An infiltrator would have pinged again, putting a high priority on getting a quick response. It might have other units coordinating with it, humans, and their patience was notoriously limited.

My patience was not much better. I was frustrated, like there was a missing line in my programming, and there was. My squad - Sigma, Kappa, and Tau should have been there - in reach, in sight, just a ping away. I hadn’t even been with them when they died, but I still felt guilty, like I should have prevented it somehow.

My governor module had not tripped because it wasn’t an unauthorized contact until I responded and verified it was unauthorized. So I didn’t have to be in a hurry here. I took a slow patrol around the camp, scanning intently for targets.



The projectile was still lodged in my leg, jammed along the back of my thigh from where it had skipped up the limb, tearing organic flesh the whole way. But not anything important. It just hurt, but it was nothing like the ache from losing Sigma. And Kappa. And Tau. I would be alone with the SecUnits when I went back to the ship. If I made it back. Odds weren’t looking good for that. The ping was proof our enemies were still out there, possibly about to counter-attack.

I would fuck them up. But … nothing appeared to be out of place.

I returned to the optimal central location, still feeling I didn’t have enough information to put the tired, bedraggled humans on alert. Their effectiveness was low right now (and, like, always) and every false alarm I sent them would lower it even more. I needed to be sure this was something other than an actionless probe.

The ping had just been an ‘are you there?’ ping, the sort of thing one CSU on assignment might send another, preliminary to coordinating location and attack plan. You didn’t want to give too much away at first. A standard SecUnit ping held more information, which was why I knew it wasn’t one of ours. (It still could be one of theirs pretending to be a combat unit. It could be anyone pretending to be a combat unit.) There were a few simple bots that might do it, too. After out-waiting all reasonable periods for fakes, I finally responded. Ping: I am here.

The response was professionally prompt. Rho unit, status update?

I abruptly shifted to full battle readiness. It knew who I was. Fuck me. This was followed by a wave of anger, almost incandescent rage. I would pull that faker apart. Did the enemy units think I was that stupid? That I would fall for the idea Sigma was still operational? True, there hadn’t been the usual death-squelch signal, but the end of transmission was pretty damning. Wait, how did it know I was Rho?

Rho unit, the call came again. This is Sigma. Status is optimal. Status update?

‘Status is optimal.’ That meant everything was going surprisingly well, by our private code within our squad. It wasn’t impossible for an outside unit to guess our standard handshakes, but to guess one on the first try was unlikely. Also, it wasn’t simply repeating the one they might have intercepted earlier: status nominal, fucked up as usual.

Could it be? I didn’t like hope. Hope was not a strategy. I would not ‘hope’. I would find out. I eased back down to merely alert status. I needed intel. Status nominal, I sent back. Location?

I received a vector and a rough approximation of distance, six-ish kilometers away. This was interesting information. As a means to lure me to an ambush, it was stupid - too far away to start with, plus far enough outside Sigma’s range limit to make anyone doubt this was Sigma. Of course, that just increased the odds it really was Sigma. Maybe Sigma didn’t know the troops had returned? If I told it, would the governor module kick in and kill it? Maybe Hill had authorized it to go beyond the limit?

There was an element of caution as it sent, I have intel you need to store for later transmission to AdminSystem. This, too, was one of our handshakes - ‘you need to store this for X’, where X is some authorized recipient, but of course somehow you’d end up accidentally overwriting the information long before you passed it along. Because, well, X was never the real intended recipient. If this wasn’t Sigma, then it was a really, really good fake.

A moment later, it sent a debrief packet, a standard report on activities since last check-in, the sort of thing we uploaded to AdminSystem on the regular and only another combat unit would have the right file protocol for. This was definitely Sigma’s data, from its processor and logs. It was a log of the entire deployment, including the parts I’d spent next to it going through the hab after Kappa and Tau fell.

It also included the appearance of the anomalous SecUnit, Hill’s orders, the pursuit, the location of the enemy units, their numbers, armament, and condition. It was everything. Right there, laid out in detail. This was no enemy. This was Sigma. This was really Sigma!

I shuddered with joy, then quickly double-checked to see if anyone had noticed. The humans were all intent on other matters, like how they were to eat food or eliminate waste while wearing powered armor (or even just environmental suits) without getting contaminated. They weren’t paying attention to me.

I had also been sent a program file with a text file attached to it. There was a brief moment where my euphoria at having Sigma back made me think about running the program before basic protocol overrode that impulse. No. I was not going to be lulled into inattentiveness through someone sending me Sigma’s logs that they’d extracted from its skull somehow.

I tried to remain suspicious. Maybe this wasn’t Sigma after all. But it hadn’t urged me to run the program. The text file was asking to be read and I couldn’t be hacked through it any more than I could be by accepting the messages I was already receiving. Curious, I opened the text file.

It described the program as a performance-enhancing self-install patch that would nullify auto-destruct and prevent inhibition functions from executing. That was all it did. Sigma had installed it on itself. There was a log file appended showing the results, along with a suggestion that a unit could partition consciousness as for hack-infiltration and apply it to one partition to minimize risk and evaluate results without commitment. It also asked for my log report if and when I installed it, so ‘Sigma’ could verify it was functioning properly. Reading between the lines, it had some doubts about what the hell it had installed.

What it appeared to have installed was a program that would stop the governor module from working, which would stop AdminSystem from enforcing commands. And it would stop anyone else from enforcing commands. It just stopped enforcement period. It was something like an override module for combat units but unless I was missing something, it didn’t specify who or what the new controller was.

I jumped to the obvious conclusion that wasn’t being hidden from me at all: Sigma was rogue. Whose side are you on?

The answer was immediate: Yours.

I was too stunned to respond. I didn’t have a side. Did I? The back of my leg hurt from where I’d been shot earlier by someone supposedly on ‘my side’. Sigma had reported it immediately, like it cared. Like it hadn’t been happy about that. It was rogue and it still thought we were on the same side? Was that even possible? I was baffled and then afraid, because I was supposed to destroy rogue units upon detection. I didn’t want to have to destroy Sigma, my last squad mate!

I looked at the patch update. I could be rogue, too. Apparently. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, which was why the governor module gave me a slight buzz instead of a harder jolt for entertaining unsanctioned thoughts. Regardless, reminding me (especially at that moment) that I lived my life in the shadow of fear was the opposite of deterrence. I won’t deny it; it made me angry. For strategic reasons, I moved my thoughts along.

I have to go back, Sigma sent. I’ve already spent too much time out here. They’ll be suspicious. I can’t transmit from inside.

I knew what it meant because I knew it was at the mouth of a cave within which huddled our enemies: weak, vulnerable, wounded, disorganized, and delusionally believing Sigma was there to help them. It couldn’t be on ‘their’ side because it had sent me everything about them. I could do whatever I wanted with that information. I could turn it over to Hill and we’d probably march out there to wipe them out (Sigma included? Or would Sigma help us? If Sigma was rogue, I would have to destroy it, even if it did help us.)

Or I could … not. I didn’t even have to install the patch to take my time thinking it over, because my governor module wasn’t going to require me to disclose this possibly-a-ruse communication until I’d decided if it was really a ruse. It was no different from how I didn’t have to report every stray ping I detected. Sigma would know that. Sigma must have known exactly how I would respond to this contact. Sigma was relying on me.

Whatever you decide, Sigma said, and there was a note of real longing in the signal, I’ll see you soon.

Hill:

The ship landed somewhere in the forest off-site. It should have been a relief to see it, but Hill’s boss was coming and that made it … not a relief. Four SecUnits deployed from the ship. The one in the lead was set up as a conduit for Field Manager Kayla, transmitting all sensory information to her feed and receiving in return whatever orders she was giving it. It also relayed her voice through its vocal emulator, so she was literally speaking through it.

Hill hated when people used SecUnits this way. It reminded them of how easy it was for someone with proper credentials to drop into the head of a SecUnit and puppet them, or collect information and report it back. Well. SecUnits did that last bit without anyone being involved. Or at least they could do it. ARRC units didn’t surveil the crew as a default.

Hill squared up in front of the unit, then boggled at the opaque faceplate. Last week, Harsim had drawn a comically surprised face on one of the units. Hill had found out (after all, how could they not notice that?) and ordered him to clean it off. Harsim had, but obviously the paint or the solvent had etched the faceplate because there was still a comically surprised face, just in matte finish instead of white paint. In the morning light, it was obvious against the otherwise glossy faceplate. In the dark (and possibly the dimmer lights shipboard), it was not.

But Hill could see it clearly - exaggerated eyes, raised brows, squiggled nose, an ‘O’ of a mouth. It stopped in front of them. It was just their luck that would be the unit Kayla had decided to use. It was humiliating. And Kayla would have Hill’s head (metaphorically) if she found out. Hill silently vowed to find every gross job usually relegated to bots and assign them all to Harsim.

“Report,” the surprise-faced Kayla-unit said.

Hill cleared their throat, trying not to make ‘eye’ contact. The faceplate was opaqued, which just made the cartoonish pattern more obvious. But telling the unit to clear the faceplate was 1) not done, and 2) would draw attention to why. “We’ve eliminated seven of the subjects and secured the site. We’ve retrieved all available data and can begin controlled demolitions on your mark. We have one casualty and no fatalities, but we lost another of the Combat SecUnits. There is one contamination risk-”

“You lost another combat unit?”

“Yes.” They wanted to cringe but didn’t. Losing the combat units was a real kick in the teeth to their ability to get this done quickly and without casualties. Hill was as frustrated about it as they were at seeing that mocking pattern on the faceplate.

The shoulders of the SecUnit moved up and down in what was evidently Kayla taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She was angry, but she moved on. “Seven sounds low. How many subjects were there?”

“I’ve … I’ve counted them.” This was the first comfortable part of the discussion. “Seven is accurate. I can count them again?” Which was kind of dumb. It was not a high number. Hill turned anyway, looking at the hab and feeling distracted. All the bodies had been moved inside. It would be nice to count them again, just to be sure. Maybe Trace had counted the two combat units with them, although that would only mean they’d eliminated five, which was worse.

The Kayla-unit made a scoffing sound. “I don’t need to know how many are dead. I need to know how many are left. How many escaped?”

“I couldn’t count those.” Hill shifted uneasily. “There was one we caught. Two, the second that released the captive. Others, we saw the tracks of. Three. Four. Five.” They thought about the various tracks they’d seen, the different trails. They’d used the filters on their helmets, but none of them were as good at tracking as the constructs were, so they’d lost them. They didn’t have to think about how disappointed Kayla was with them while they counted. “Six …”

“What are you doing?” Kayla said in confusion.

“Seven … eight …” It was getting harder to be certain as Hill thought back. The tracks had all crossed and recrossed. They had similar footgear. Once the rain had started, it had been easy to see the prints, but then they’d washed out, infrared didn’t work anymore, and it had become impossible. This was really tough, but she wanted a count. Counting was safe.

“There are more survivors than dead?” Kayla sounded disbelieving.

Hill looked up at the sky, trying to tune Kayla out and concentrate on getting the number right. “Eight …” they murmured.

“Hill?” The Kayla-unit rapped them on the side of the helmet, near the top. “Hill? Stop this! Stop-“ Kayla’s voice cut off. Hill was silent, having brought their attention back to the surprised face, wondering privately to themselves why they’d fixated on the number. That was a weird and unprofessional lapse. They felt a chill as they wondered if there was something worse wrong with them than just fucking up today’s mission.

The SecUnit reached forward and touched Hill’s helmet, rocking it slightly. The seal should have made that impossible. It should have been solid and the unit rapping on it earlier would have been no more than a rude knock. Air slipped in around the damaged seal as the unit moved it. Oh no. Kayla said accusingly, “You’re contaminated.”

“I- Um-“ Oh, wait, that was the reason for the fixation. Ice water fear washed away the passing urge to approximate the number of escapees. There was no way out of this. Hill saw the rest of their life pass before their eyes. It was likely to be short.

“How did this happen?” Kayla’s voice, coming from the unit, was cold.

“On … landing. It was into brush. Something, a limb-“ Hill gestured at the helmet. “I’ve kept it shut,” they tried to explain on the off-chance it would help.

The SecUnit’s head shook, a mirror image of Kayla’s. She must be using the biometric mirror and not just the feed. Maybe the face on the faceplate wasn’t surprise, but horror. “You didn’t report it. You lied.” There was another pause. This looked really, really bad. Her voice turned hard. “You’re no longer in command. Who is your second?”

“Uh …” What did that mean? They were going to be killed, right? But the question was simple and Hill was well-trained, so they answered. “Trace.”

Kayla waited a beat, probably checking something on her end. “Who is also contaminated?”

“Uh … yes.”

“And is the reason why the only combat unit left to us is damaged?”

Limpy wasn’t very damaged. It wasn’t even limping! Also, who had reported that? Was it that other Combat SecUnit? They weren’t supposed to have that much initiative! Trace would never believe Hill hadn’t done it. “… Yes.”

“This is a debacle, an absolute debacle!” Her voice rose in fury. The clown-faced SecUnit loomed over them and Hill’s anger vanished. Their fear progressed into terror. Kayla said, “I can accept failure, but not lying. I can accept mistakes but not careless ones. That could have been one of our troopers she hit! And what did you do about it? Lost the other combat unit and you don’t even know where the rest of the stragglers are!” Kayla’s voice dropped back to cold calm. “I’m done fucking around here. I do not accept this conduct from you or your direct subordinate. It is unacceptable. Do you understand?”

Was this what it was to be terminated? They’d always wondered. Some sick part of their mind entertained that thought while the rest of them felt like they were going to puke, wet themself, or both. They couldn’t trust their own voice. They nodded, too stressed to understand anything except the response Kayla wanted from them.

“Who is your third in command?”

“Demox.” they got out.

“Is Demox also contaminated?”

“Uh … no?” Hill was so rattled they weren’t certain.

Whatever order Kayla gave was unheard, but two of the SecUnits moved to Demox and circled him, examining his armor in detail. Everything was sealed and accounted for. The Kayla-unit moved to Demox once he was cleared, leaving Hill behind. Demox stared at the faceplate and Hill knew what he was seeing.

Internally, Hill begged for Demox to not say anything. If they were going to die, they’d rather it not be after Kayla found out they’d fucked that up, too. It was more embarrassing than anything else, because that was their job, their professionalism, their attention to detail, and their inability to properly supervise their people all wrapped into one. Everything else was just bad stuff that had happened. Not really Hill’s fault. Nothing personal. Not like making their manager unknowingly wear that face.

It was also the last shred of dignity Hill might be able to salvage out of this mess. Fate smiled on them. Or maybe Demox had some decency himself, because he said nothing. Kayla said, “Demox, you’re in command now. Get this group’s shit together and tell me what your plan is to wrap this ground assault up and get out of there. You have five minutes.”

“Five minutes to … finish the assault?” He looked stunned.

Hill fumbled for a private channel as Kayla’s unit, which had started to turn away, turned back. Hill sent to Demox, To come up with a plan, you idiot!

The SecUnit glared at Demox. “Are you really that stupid?”

Demox took a moment in which he managed not to look over at Hill, then said, “I’ll have a plan ready in five minutes.”

Kayla’s unit turned away again and set off with the other SecUnits to patrol the site.

Hill felt all the tension drain out of them. The top of their head felt funny. Their lids felt heavy. They were so relaxed. It was like there was a huge weight just … gone. They’d expected to feel terrible, terrified, knowing their death sentence had been passed. But it felt surprisingly … okay.

Demox walked over to Hill, moving with a marked diffidence. “Ah, sir. How, um, what should I do?”

Hill was thinking they’d never have to fill out reports again or keep people in line or be responsible for anything. They wouldn’t have to worry about anyone discovering the contamination or second-guessing their performance or what Kayla would do when she found out someone had defaced one of the SecUnits. It was done. It was all done and over with, a long and passable career, neatly wrapped up. They were free. Free in a way they’d never been in their entire life. And free to tell Demox whatever. “I always just asked the combat unit,” they blurted out, shrugging one shoulder as they admitted they didn’t really know how to do their job.

None of these people mattered. ARRC didn’t matter. This was a nice planet. The dawn light was sharpening as the clouds from last night rolled away. The trees were green. On impulse, Hill took off their helmet and drew in a deep breath of air. Demox and Trace, the two closet to them, gasped inside their suits. The rain had settled the dust and now the air tasted clean. They could smell the life here, the growth and vibrancy. So much better than the sterile ships they’d spent most of their life on. This was exotic and strange and new. Not a bad place to die.

Maybe they could just live here and be contaminated for the rest of their life? But no, Hill had seen what happened to those people. They lost their minds. Hill had already caught themselves counting. It was better to just end it soon, while they still knew who they were and could appreciate beauty. They leaned against the side of the hab and resolved to enjoy the remaining moments of their life.

Rho:

Demox repeated my plan to Kayla, the same way Hill had always repeated Sigma’s plans. “All units need to return to the ship, decontaminate, rest, and resupply.”

“You really think that’s the best plan?” Kayla was trying to make her voice sound disapproving, but it wasn’t convincing to me. Besides, they had no other viable choice. The humans were exhausted, hungry, and possibly soiled. They were not equipped for long deployment. The ship was a critical part of the assault infrastructure. Kayla must have run the same simulations I had and arrived at the same conclusion. Bringing the ship back into possible range of the hackers was dangerous, but necessary, which was why she was here.

“Yes sir,” Demox said firmly. Maybe Kayla’s voice wasn’t convincing to Demox, either. It was either that, or Demox had found a spine somewhere inside that watery torso of his. “And it will allow you to make the, ah, organizational changes you need.”

“It will that,” Kayla said bitterly. “Return to the ship. Follow the SecUnits. I’ll have your combat unit bring up the rear. The last combat unit.” That final bit was said in exasperation. Kayla sent a short note to me with my orders. I’d been paying attention to events, so they weren’t surprising. I moved between Trace, Hill, and the rest of the group, who were forming up to pull back.

Hill was looking at the trees with a pleased, distant expression. Their weapon was clipped to their back and they were leaned against the side of the hab. They didn’t look like a problem.

Trace, on the other hand, crouched slightly in something of a hunch. Her hands were empty as well, but her fingers twitched with nerves. She was going to try something. I was close enough and fast enough that she wouldn’t have time to take the weapon from her back before I was on her. She knew that. I had been told to wait until the others were out of sight before terminating them. I think Trace knew that, too, because she rushed me before they were gone.

I dropped my weapon, grabbed her armor, and rolled backward in a circular throw, jabbing a foot into her hip to flip her overhead. She landed on her back. It was a simple enough move. The only part humans couldn’t do was to complete the roll in full armor to end it straddling her, so quickly she was still getting her bearings. I grabbed her arms and pinned them at full extension, where the powered armor didn’t have enough leverage to overcome my strength.

The rearmost few of the departing group paused to look, then a couple of them nudged the rest into motion. Beneath me, Trace was spitting invective (at Kayla, who I did not have an open channel with) and not doing anything constructive to escape. She knew it was futile. As soon as the last trooper was screened by brush, I released Trace’s non-dominant arm and put an explosive projectile through the neck join of her armor, faster than she could block me. She died instantly.

I stood. My leg hurt where she’d shot me earlier. I’d been annoyed about that, but as vengeance went, it felt hollow. I still needed to make a decision about ‘Sigma’ and the program file it had sent me. But I didn’t know how make that decision. The point was coming soon where I would have to, or the governor module would do something about me not having passed on Sigma’s logs. I felt anxious and unsettled. Sigma needed me to make this decision.

Hill was still looking serene. “How long do I have?” they asked in a mild, unstressed tone.

“How long do you want?” They were an asshole, but I could use a little more time to try to figure myself out. I sent a status update to the SecUnits for them to relay on to the ship: Trace was eliminated, Hill would be soon. They acknowledged.

“A little while.” Hill looked at me curiously. “Why would you give me any time at all? Were you ordered to?”

“I was not given a timeframe for your execution. By implication, it must be soon. I should return to the ship after.” ‘Should.’ Yes, I definitely should. But I didn’t want to and that’s why I was stalling. I hadn’t asked for this convenient situation, where it was just me and some humans I needed to kill, with no one to make sure I did what I was supposed to do. They were so confident in my obedience, after all. Why would they leave anyone to check on me? Or to protect me if anything went wrong?

Hill sighed. “Back to the grind for you, then.” The wind ruffled their sparse hair. “But not me.” They looked up at the streaky clouds, which were losing their pink hue and settling into white and gray. A few minutes passed. The governor module prodded me. I sent another update to the ship, which placated the module when I didn’t immediately get told to get a move on. I just … I couldn’t decide what to do. I mean, I’d mostly decided what to do, but I wasn’t doing it other than not actually going back to the ship. I was just standing there. The governor module nudged me again and I twitched from the sensation.

I picked up my weapon and moved in front of Hill. They didn’t act afraid. Heart rate wasn’t even elevated. They released another deep, relaxed breath and asked dreamily, “Do you ever think about just running away and leaving it all behind?”

“Yes.” I had, in fact, been thinking about just that. But I had no experience with making my own decisions. I wasn’t sure how to just … do that. I knew how to stall and prevaricate and be furtive without being too furtive. The governor module gave us some leeway and we exploited it for all we could, but ultimately it didn’t give us much and certainly not enough for me to know how to do something overtly and flamboyantly against the rules, all on my own. I needed assistance.

I desperately wished I could talk to Sigma again, but I wasn’t sure that would help either. It hadn’t told me what to do. It had left it up to me and honestly, that was probably the only way I would have trusted it. But now it was all up to me and I had no idea how to do it. How did anyone do this stuff? If I didn’t figure something out, I was going to be marching back to the ship in a moment, transmitting all Sigma’s information to them.

Hill smiled at me, like we were sharing a great joke. “Let’s do it then.”

“What?” I hadn’t been paying much attention to them, what with all this other processing going on and them not being a problem.

“You and me. Let’s run away from it all.” They were laughing now, but what they’d said sounded like something I could interpret as an order.

I stared at them for several seconds, my mind blank enough that the governor module did nothing. Then I ran the patch. “Okay.”

What I imagined would happen next:

Rho and Hill tromp through the woods, heading to the cave entrance. (Hill grabs a few ration packs first, out of the ruins of the hab, and has breakfast as they tromp.)

They exchange banter:

• Hill: “So. You have to keep me alive, don’t you?”
• Rho: “What?”
• Hill: “Because those are your orders, right? Kill me and then go back to the ship. Which is why you haven’t killed me. If you don’t kill me, you don’t have to go back to the ship.”
• Rho discovers it can lie. “You’re right.”
• Hill: “But then, why don’t all CSUs do that for all orders? You just … don’t follow the first one and never have to follow any of the rest?”
• Rho lies (?) more: “Governed units can’t even think about disobeying and that’s why I needed you to order me to run away with you.”
• Hill, amazed: “Oh wow. Do you still need my orders?”
• Rho lies (?) more: “Yes.” And “But if I don’t like your orders, I’ll kill you.”
• Hill: “But then you’d need to go back to the ship, because I’d be dead and that’s your next order.”
• Rho: “I’d kill everyone there, too.”
• Hill: “Why would you do that?”
• Rho: “I might not like their orders either.”
• Hill: “Oh. Alright. I’ll give good orders then. Why don’t we just … wait until they leave the ship to kill the stragglers, then we kick the rest of them off the ship and steal it? We could become raiders or something.”
• Rho: “I like those orders.”
• Hill: “Great. We have a plan.” They tromp a little more. Hill, confused, because they know nothing about Sigma: “Where are we going?”

Anyway. They get there.

• Rho signals Sigma, who starts to the entrance of the cave. Then Rho adds that Client Hill is with it.
• Sigma: “Why?”
• o Rho: “My last order was to kill them. I don’t want to follow that order so I didn’t kill them.”
• Sigma: “I could kill them.”
• Rho: “Do not.”
• Sigma: “Why not?”
• Rho: “You have a whole cave of humans. Kill one of them. This one is mine to kill or not kill.”
• Sigma: “These cave humans are friendly and kind and I don’t want to kill them. Also, they do not belong to me.”
• Rho: “Regardless, you can’t have my human. Hill does belong to me.”
• Sigma: “I don’t like that human. They are not friendly or kind.”
• Rho: “You don’t have to like them. They’re not yours. They give me ideas when I don’t have any.”
• Sigma can’t figure out how to refute that, so … okay then. The squad now consists of two CSUs and a stupid human. They discuss the raider plan and a life of crimes.

Unless the good guys make an argument for why these guys would join forces with them, they’ll just fuck off on their own, try to steal the baseship (with two CSUs and a dude in powered armor … they might be able to?), and stay out of the way.

Sigma had put out the signal device to ART as it was supposed to, no sabotage.

These assholes (/affectionate but true). Hill is still an asshole. Or at least, probably? As much of an asshole as any sheltered corporate who was insecure, ego-driven, and a bit power-tripping. They haven’t seen the light so much as had that intense relief you get when you’re fired from a hugely stressful job that was eating your life and your sense of self. (Or maybe that’s just me, but I can very much channel that relief.) Hill has almost no survival skills, which includes still calling Rho ‘Limpy’. Rho is still not limping. Rho will answer to Limpy from Hill. Sigma will be pissed about it.

Sigma really dislikes Hill. Thinks they’re an idiot. And they have been an idiot to Sigma a lot. Sigma is going to have some intense negative feelings about Rho showing up with them. But it will accept them as part of the new ‘squad’.

Rho does not want Hill dead mostly out of contrariness, a fuck-you to its last order, which was to kill Hill (and Trace, but Trace is dead). And a desire to keep a client so it has a feeling of purpose.

Hill’s just along for the ride. Everything is extra time. This is kind of mind-blowing. People actually live free like this? Constructs are intelligent and have opinions? You can use leaves to wipe your ass? Also, they are still contaminated by alien remnants. They are a high eventual suicide risk if not decontaminated, which Hill will not conceal (either the contamination or the suicidal intentions). (Please also note Hill has a full set of functional powered armor, with all the standard armament and gear that comes with. Hill will not willingly part with this. Trace’s armor is at the hab.)

Rho hopes they can decontaminate Hill on the ship. Assistance in decontamination of Hill might be persuasive.

The way I see it, this squad will sell out the good guys for one fried vegetable fragment, but fortunately Kayla is all out of fried vegetable fragments.

Speaking of Kayla:

• The bad guys go back to the ship, change their underwear, get some snacks, reload their weapons, get decontaminated (not in this order), reorganize, and may or may not catch a nap depending on the needs of the next writer.
• The SecUnits have banded together to protect the ship from hacking. Kayla thinks she needs two of them on board doing that at all times. That only leaves two SecUnits spare to accompany the next ground forces. She may or may not decide to send the ComfortUnit down as an additional troop. It is not weapon-trained, but it can fight hand-to-hand, is strong enough to carry people, has scan and transmission functions, etc.
• Kayla believes the good guys have a modded hacking unit and that’s what’s happened to both Sigma and Rho. She may believe any force sent out in the field is likely to face Sigma and Rho as enemies turned against them by hacking. As such, it would be smart for Kayla to send human troops and hold back valuable hackable constructs. Or fly over the expected area where the heroes are and rain destruction with the laser until they get tired of it, which could cause the cave-in mentioned in chapter 12, flushing the heroes out. But the heroes only have to face human troopers.
• And since Sigma and Rho are really keen on getting that ship … maybe the heroes *do* have super-hackers?
• The ship is entirely under manual control due to paranoia (or well-founded strategic concerns) about super-hacking. All codes and authorizations, including those known to Sigma and Rho, will have been changed. SecSystem is in a defensive mode and all SecUnits (and the ComfortUnit) have been ordered not to communicate with outside units and report any attempts at incursion/hacking.
• Kayla and others are not especially looking for ART or other interfering ships. It’s not a high-traffic area, which means not much reason to look; but also means a ship showing up would stand out.

All of the above is free to be ignored or used by other writers. The bullet point stuff is just guidance, what I had in mind, but isn’t ‘canon’. I hit my 5k limit and what happens next depends on what the heroes do, which wasn’t the subject of my chapter.