Work Text:
“InGaLE base, this is the Kunoichi. We are currently on our way back from the Talbia mission – full report will be provided upon our return but it looks like there won't be trouble around there any more. Please advise on any other missions to be undertaken in this quadrant.” Finished with his transmission, Matthew adjusted his headphones as he waited for the answer.
Behind him, Al hovered, hoping they'd get another mission. He'd enjoyed the brief fight with the pirates but it seemed the InterGalactic Law Enforcement logo was more than enough for them to retreat. Sure, they'd followed them to make sure they wouldn't return as soon as they left. And they got to stay on the planet and drink in some of the culture while they waited to see if the pirates would return. All three of the team had been fawned over and Al had been interested in the reactions from Matthew and Kiku – it had helped his learning and he now knew that they had both enjoyed and were embarrassed by both the female and male Talbians' attentions.
“Al,” said Matthew, suddenly, turning to look at him. “I've told you before – stop that.”
“But I wanna know what's happening!” Al protested, whining a little.
“Don't you need to charge?” Kiku asked from his seat at the pilot's station.
“Nope,” Al replied. “My improved lithium-ion batteries last much longer than previous batteries and will only need to be charged every four months. They will need to be replaced in five years but should not be cause for concern.”
Matthew sighed. “Obviously your learning software hasn't updated to include reading the atmosphere, huh?”
Tilting his head, Al blinked. “You've said that before. I'm still not sure how I'm supposed to do that. You never say whether you mean pressure or air content or something else.”
Just as Matthew opened his mouth to reply, he turned back to his station. Evidently, the base was responding. Al eagerly watched him, listening to his end of the conversation. “Yes, sir,” Matthew said. “It shouldn't take us too long to check that out. We'll get in contact with you when we've made contact. Thank you, sir.”
“Checked what out?” Al immediately demanded. “Are we freeing slaves from the Loo'oo'oos planet? Are we helping to overthrow an evil dictator in one of the Groag galaxies? Is it pirates again? Are we gonna fight pirates?”
Rolling his eyes, Matthew sent the coordinates from his screen to Kiku's monitor so he could change their route. “The base has picked up a very weak distress signal from Ranar. We've to check it out and help anyone who needs it.”
“Ranar?” said Al, pouting. “But that's uninhabited and boring !”
“But,” Kiku piped up, “if we don't go to help, you won't get to be a hero.”
Al blinked, processing the statement. “Oh,” he said. “Well, we gotta get there quick, then. 'Specially if they're in distress – gotta save 'em before something happens!”
“Don't worry,” Kiku said, smiling at him in that way he did when he was feeling both amused and fond. “We're only an hour away by light speed.”
For Al, an hour was way too long.
Considering the length of time it had taken to get to this part of their jurisdiction from the base and the smooth running of their new ship, he'd seen all there was to see on the ship. There were no need to read books – all the contents of them were downloaded into his head as soon as he linked up with the tablet they were stored on. He preferred the comics back at base, anyway, but Matthew and Kiku were fans of novels and manga and that's all they had on the ship. Sure, manga was cool, but it had taken long for him to download everything the other two crew members had brought. It was the same problem with the movies and don't get him started on the video games he could master in seconds.
So all he could do was pace the length and breadth of the ship, returning to the bridge every few minutes. Eventually, Matthew snapped.
“Dammit, Al, just sit down!”
“Meanie,” Al grumbled and plopped down onto his chair, probably damaging a few circuits from the force he landed.
“We're not too far away now,” Kiku assured him.
Matthew nodded and turned to his screen. “Yeah, I'm picking up the distress signal now. I'll put it through the speakers.”
Instantly, a man's voice began to fill the bridge, his accent neutral but evidently a human. “Mayday, mayday. This is the Asterales requesting immediate assistance. Our ship has been damaged by pirates and, unless we receive parts for our engine, we will be unable to leave Ranar or survive for much longer. Mayday, mayday. This is the-”
“Asterales?” said Al, frowning. “I don't have any data on that ship.”
“So it shouldn't have been a target for the pirates...” Matthew murmured. “What in the universe happened?”
“Did they stumble onto something the pirates didn't want them to know, do you think?” Kiku asked. “This could be far more serious than we thought.”
“We still have to go check it out,” Matthew pointed out. “We'll just have to be more cautious when we descend, in case it's some sort of trap.”
“Ah,” said Kiku as an alert sounded on his screen. “We're approaching Ranar.”
The next few minutes were taken up by the routine of scanning for potential threats, steering their ship into orbit, scanning for the downed ship and dropping into the atmosphere. Al mainly ran on automatic; he could do all this with his eyes closed. Though, from past experience, he knew that Matthew and Kiku preferred him to keep them open.
They set down not far from the stranded ship. It was a dirty brown and seemed to be a cargo ship. Al updated the information he had on the Asterales, making sure to take an optical picture for later reference. It seemed to lie where it had landed, at a right angle to a massive rock. There were several massive dents in the metalwork and the door seemed to be stuck slightly open. Nobody could be seen moving about and no-one seemed to be coming to greet them.
Glancing at the other two, Matthew grimaced. “The scans showed signs of life but the hull of the ship is so thick, I can't tell how many there are or what state they're in. I hope they're all right...”
“There's only one way to find out!” Al exclaimed and immediately made his way to the airlock. From the scrambling noises behind him, he knew that the other two were following.
Despite being uninhabited, the air was breathable and the gravity only a smidgeon stronger then that of Earth and their ship. It wasn't enough for Matthew or Kiku to notice but Al did and quickly adjusted all his mechanics in order to be able to operate at full capacity. Matthew and Kiku had quickly dressed in their official uniforms, the black jumpsuits with gloves and helmets and protective vests. Of course, the vests only protected against the lower range of laser blasts, knives and some of the lower velocity projectiles. Al would make sure they didn't need to rely on them, though.
The terrain itself seemed to be a desert or wasteland of some sort. Huge rocks stopped anyone from seeing too far into the horizon. Beneath their feet, stones crunched against the hard earth, cracks creating interesting patterns for miles around. There were no noises except for a slight wind whistling through the valleys created by the rocks and cliffs. Occasionally, a skittering sound of stones being disturbed sounded from far away and Al had to wonder if the wind was dislodging them or if it was an animal of some sort. Or maybe it was a ghost .
Before Al could give a whimper at that thought, the wonky door shifted slightly. All three of the law enforcement officers froze, eyeing them. Matthew and Kiku kept a tight grip on their weapons as they watched the door being moved aside. Finally, someone emerged and approached the group, taking slow, deliberate steps. They stopped some distance away, close enough for the officers to make them out but far enough that he could turn and run for shelter should they attack them.
Whoever they were looking at was completely covered up. Large, black boots came up to their knees and brown trousers were tucked into them, a shiny belt buckle reflecting the meagre sunlight. A long-sleeved, dirty-white shirt was tucked into a pair of black, leather gloves. Covering their head and shoulders from view was a long, deep green cloak, tied securely around the person's neck. Usually, Al would assume he would need to switch to a different language to be understood since only natives of the outer planets wore cloaks. Instead, his optical scanners picked up that the clothes – including the cloak – were made of materials from Earth and deduced that the person was just a human with an outdated sense of fashion.
It took a few seconds (exactly 8.04 seconds, actually) for anyone to do anything. Then, deciding that they were all taking too long to do something, Al stepped around Matthew and Kiku to move towards the person. They immediately stepped back but otherwise didn't seem to react. “Hi,” Al said, smiling wide. “I am Al-senth, a beta personality android. The best beta personality android, actually. Though, there's only four of us so far. Maybe five; they were making another one when we left the base. Ah! This is Matthew – he's the captain. And this is Kiku – he's, like, the vice-captain. But he's also the-”
“Do all you beta personality androids talk so much?” asked the person and Al recognised it as the man who had sent out the distress signal.
“Nope! Fel does, of course, but Lov is grumpy and tells us to shut up all the time. And Lud is quiet... Well, till Fel does something bad and he yells at him. The fifth one was gonna be a woman, I think. Dunno what she'd be like.”
“They're... they're giving you individual personalities?” asked the person. There was a short pause. “But... they're programming you to be that way, right?”
“That's right! It's to help us protect humans much better than any of the previous androids and without any of the glitches.”
The person snorted. “Sure. Glitches .”
“Are you the only one here?” Matthew interjected.
“No.”
A short silence descended. “Er...” said Kiku, eventually. “Are you the captain, then?”
“No.”
“Then, um...” said Matthew.
“My distress signal specifically stated the need for parts for our engine. Do you have any with you?”
Matthew's eyes narrowed; Al deduced that he didn't like the person's tone. “We will need to inspect-”
“Quiet!” the person suddenly said, his head turning. Everyone froze, listening. All Al could hear was the continued whistling of the wind, the skittering of rocks, the breathing of his comrades and... Was that the sifting of sand? “There's a storm coming. They can be violent and sudden on this planet. Get inside.” Then, without waiting for them to agree or disagree, the person turned and stalked back to their ship.
Kiku raised an eyebrow at Matthew who shrugged and put his gun into his holster – though he made sure it would be easily drawn. Then he followed the person, Al right behind him (scanning the immediate area to confirm what the man had said) and Kiku brought up the rear, his own gun now in its holster as well. They soon reached the ship and Al took the moment to scan it now that he was closer, looking for any information he could glean from it. Not being in the databases available to the InGaLE was an oddity unless it was new or had been unused for some time. This ship looked as though it was usually well-cared for but also quite old. Al frowned at it; had the name of the ship been changed at some point?
The person held the door out of the way for them as they entered. The corridors beyond were dark and Al immediately drew out his flashlight. “We have no power,” the person told them. “Do you have any torches?”
Al flicked his on. “Yup!” he declared as his crewmates fumbled for their own.
“Good,” said the person and pulled the door shut, plunging them into a more pressing darkness. There were three separate clicks and three more flashlights threw out light. “Be careful,” the person said, reaching up with their free hand. “When we crashed here, everything went everywhere and I haven't had a chance to clean up yet.” With that said, he pulled the hood from his head.
Due to Al's enhanced sight, he was able to make out much more about the person before them than the other officers could. The person was definitely a human man. He had messy, blond hair which looked like it hadn't been brushed in a few days. His eyes were a vibrant green, the sort of colour Al wouldn't have expected in anyone bar a 'senth. Above them were a couple of really bushy eyebrows: it looked as though someone had stuck too much hair there by accident. His facial structure was what humans would deem 'perfect': straight nose, not too big or small; strong-looking jaw; and his cheekbones were well-defined. Even his lips were perfect, plump and full. Al suspected that many people would find the man handsome.
“This way,” the man said and stepped past the small group to lead them through the dead ship.
In Al's opinion, it was creepy. Everything was still and silent. Every time they rounded a corner, he half-expected something to jump out at them. Whenever Matthew or Kiku accidentally kicked a tool or a loose piece of machinery they hadn't seen, Al had to stop his mechanisms from jolting in surprise. They passed by closed doors, open doors with darkness straining against the doorways and dead screens and communicators. Al felt like they were being led to something horrific.
Eventually, they came upon a door which had been propped open with a steel box. The man stepped up and began to pull one half to the side, the other half moving as he grunted and heaved. In only a few seconds, he had it open wide enough for one person to fit through at a time. Al, Matthew and Kiku were quick to slip through and the man let it go behind them with another grunt of effort. The doors slammed together, stopped only by the box with a protesting shriek of metal.
Looking around, Al spotted other flashlights glowing, these ones flickering every so often. They were pointed in their direction, shifting over all of their faces. Beyond them, Al could see the rest of the crew – if three people to fly this wreck was what they considered to be a 'crew'.
A blond stood in the middle, his hair long and flowing; with the way the blue bow sat, Al calculated that his hair went to the small of his back. He obviously needed a shave, if the slightly messy beard was anything to go by. The coat he wore was a baby blue, marked with oil and blood but, thankfully, made of the stain-resistant material offered by the Trangians. It reached his thighs and was draped over a navy shirt and black trousers. At least, Al presumed he wore trousers as his white boots were laced up to the middle of his thighs. A gun was at one hip with a Santon-made sword at the other; his hand rested upon it as he watched the group with wary blue eyes.
On his right was a man with hair so pale, it appeared to be white. His eyes were red and Al made a note that he was probably wearing contact lenses – or he wasn't Earth-human and was actually from a different planet. His skin was smooth and he looked as though he had no grooming issues. Despite this, he was wearing a black hoodie, black skinny jeans and an old pair of sneakers. All of them were covered in oil and dirt as well as blood. He held a spanner in his hand, his grip tight, and Al supposed he was an engineer of some sort.
The last man was a brunet and was smiling a little which was completely at odds with the frowns the other two were sporting. He had stubble dusting his jaw but, other than that, he looked as though he'd been keeping up appearances as his hair wasn't a mess like their guide. His green eyes were darker than their guide's and seemed a lot friendlier than the other two. For some reason, he was wearing a tuxedo, the bowtie undone and merely slung around his neck. His left sleeve had been unbuttoned and pushed up, revealing a comp-gauntlet. Again, his clothes were covered in blood and dirt and his shiny shoes were scuffed. Weirdly, he was holding onto a collapsible Loo'oo'oo axe.
“Arthur,” said the blond, looking behind the officers. Al turned to watched their guide hop onto the box and squeeze through the tiny gap there. Apparently, this 'Arthur' was flexible. “What's going on? Where are the parts?”
“They said they needed to look at the engine to see if they have the parts we need,” Arthur explained, dusting himself off. “And there's a storm coming.”
“So you just invited 'em in?” said the white-haired guy.
“Do you want to get off this planet or not?” Arthur snapped. “I sure as hell do. If they need to inspect the engine, let them.”
“Are you giving me orders now?!”
Arthur smirked. “I'm sure I technically have a higher rank than you.”
“But you're not the captain-” the white-haired guy began.
“Gilbert,” the blond said. That was enough to stop the argument as the two men turned from each other. “I know you love this ship like it's your first-born but it wouldn't hurt to show them exactly what we need, right?”
“Urgh. Fine,” Gilbert grumbled. “Open the door, Art.”
“Can't you just slip through the gap that's there already?” Arthur complained, though he made his way to the door, regardless.
“I'm not freaky flexible like you,” countered Gilbert before he turned to the officers. “Which one of you's coming with me?”
“I'll come,” Kiku offered, stepping away from Al and Matthew. For a millisecond, Matthew looked concerned, his hand twitching slightly. Then he clenched his jaw and nodded at Kiku who returned it. All three of them headed to the door while Al and Matthew turned to the two who were left.
“What exactly happened here?” Matthew asked.
“Why, do you have the time to listen to our tragic story?” asked the blond, rather dramatically.
“Sure do!” Al declared.
“If we let Francis tell it,” said the brunet, “we'll be here for a while.”
“Toni!” cried Francis. “I'm not that bad!”
Laughing, Toni shrugged. “I'm sure Arthur would say otherwise.”
“Too right, I would!” grunted Arthur from the doors just before they slammed shut with another shriek. “This box isn't going to hold for much longer, you know.”
Francis waved a hand. “If they've got the parts, we won't have to worry about that any more.”
“If,” Arthur said, pointedly. He then turned to Matthew and Al. “We're merchants. We did have a lot of cargo but these damned pirates came out of nowhere. They said they'd let us live if we sent over what we had and this idiot” - Arthur shot a glare at Francis - “decided to do as he was told. Of course, they kept to their word – by leaving us marooned on this planet after they'd taken out our engine.”
“How long ago was this?” Matthew asked, already recording details directly into the report programme in his comp-gauntlet.
“Hmm,” said Toni, tapping at his own gauntlet. “About four Earth days ago.”
“We've been surviving on what food the pirates left behind and some water from the underground stream Arthur found,” Francis explained.
“So Arthur's, like, the explorer on the ship?” Al asked.
There was a short silence as Francis blinked at him. “Ah!” he suddenly cried. “How rude of us! We haven't introduced ourselves. I apologise.”
“That's fine,” Matthew said, waving his hand. “We haven't either. I am Officer Matthew Williams and this is Al-senth. Officer Kiku Honda is with...?”
“He's with our engineer, Gilbert Beilschmidt. This is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, our... communications officer?”
“And pilot,” Antonio piped up.
“As for me, I am the captain, Francis Bonnefoy.” From Al's side, Arthur pointedly cleared his throat. Francis rolled his eyes. “And this is Arthur. He's...” Suddenly, Francis smirked. “Our cabin boy.”
“What?!” Arthur shouted, taking a step towards his captain. “I am no-!” He broke off suddenly, wobbling where he stood. Alarmed, Al reached out to catch hold of him.
“Are you-?” Al began but, as he touched Arthur's arm, he suddenly crumpled. Al watched in slow motion as Arthur's legs bent underneath him. The arm he had raised to jab a finger in Francis's direction dropped as suddenly as if it had been tied to a lead weight. His head abruptly fell forward, his chin meeting with his chest until his momentum caused his body to fall forwards and down. Arthur landed hard, face down. If Al had had a heartbeat, he was sure it would have stopped, like in those books he'd read. Silence fell in the bridge and Al stared down at Arthur's body before he raised the hand he had touched Arthur with and stared at that. “Er,” he finally said to break the silence. “I swear, I didn't do anything...”
“Arthur!” Francis yelled, dropping his flashlight as he rushed to his side. Falling to his knees beside Arthur, the captain rolled him over and gathered him into his arms. “Dammit, Arthur, don't do this to us!”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Antonio chanted, one hand raised to his mouth.
“Toni, help me!” Francis snapped.
“Don't worry,” said Al, kneeling down beside them. “I can do a scan to find out what the problem is and I have medical knowledge up to and including brain surgery.” He reached out to touch Arthur's skin but Francis jerked him out of reach, to his bewilderment.
“We don't need that,” the captain said, shortly. “Toni!”
Antonio jerked from his shock and hurried over, dropping to his knees in such haste that he slid along the floor. Then he reached into his cummerbund and pulled out a knife so quickly that Al only realised where it had come from by watching it in slow-motion immediately afterwards. Without pausing, Antonio, reached out and slit from the v-neck of Arthur's shirt all the way down. “He's going to kick up such a fuss – this is his favourite shirt,” Antonio murmured, mournfully.
Despite his words, Antonio then ripped the shirt out of the way, revealing the exposed body of an android. Al stared in shock as Matthew gasped. The inner wires and gears and electrical components were clear to see through the clear metal-plastic polymer material. In fact, it was the same material which was a precursor to what Al was made of and had been used in the Ar series of androids – the same series which was decommissioned due to glitches in their programming. Al knew that several owners hadn't bothered to return them, claiming that they had no faults in their eyes. Other androids had run off on their own, somehow. One had even been stolen from the depot before the company could turn them off.
But Al had never heard of them developing a personality. They were supposed to be compliant, happy to serve and cautious of any potential danger their owners could face. None of them would ever consider talking back to their owners nor would they scoff at others. Arthur had done just that.
Clearly, he had severe problems in his programming.
“Dammit,” Francis repeated, peering into Arthur's inner workings. “He must have used up the last of his power bringing those three in. Get Gil, Toni. We need him to reroute what power we have to Arthur and fast.”
Al tilted his head. “You're going to reboot him?” he asked as Antonio scrambled to his feet and hurried to the door. “He's clearly malfunctioning and-”
He was interrupted by an echoing shout from Antonio. “GIIIIIIIIIIILLLLBEEEEEEERRRRRTTT!!” For a few minutes, Al's audio was assaulted with the echoes. No-one tried to speak till it had died down. Even as it did so, the thundering approach of the engineer (accompanied by loud bangs as he knocked things over) could be heard. “There,” said Antonio, turning to Francis. “He's on his way.”
“Ah, I miss when our ship actually worked,” said Francis with a sigh. Al noticed that his grip on Arthur hadn't loosened.
When Gilbert and Kiku finally arrived, the merchant engineer was first through the door, squeezing through the gap afforded by the box and squirming till he dropped to the floor at the other side. He hurried to his feet and scanned the room, gasping when he saw Arthur on the floor. “Art!” he cried, rushing to his side. “Dammit, why doesn't he tell us when he's low on power?!”
“You know what's he like,” Francis replied.
“What happened?” asked Kiku as he stepped onto the box and prepared to shimmy his way through.
Al pointed at the android. “I think I broke him.” After all, there could have been an electrical discharge when he touched Arthur's arm. Due to Al's insulating materials and high-functioning protective systems, he wouldn't be overloaded and wouldn't notice something like that. If there had been something like that while Arthur was still low on power, his system would simply shut down to protect itself. Or it could have shorted out everything within the android – especially when he was evidently without the protection of a layer of skin.
Kiku looked down at the group on the floor and caught a glimpse of Arthur's insides. His jaw dropped and he stared at him, frozen in the little gap between the doors.
“Shit,” said Gilbert, rocking back onto his heels. “We don't have enough power to boot him up properly. Maybe a few hours ago, it would've worked but we need our engines up and running to get power into him.”
Francis immediately looked past the engineer to the InGaLE officers. “Do you have the parts we need?” he demanded.
Startled from his shock, Kiku pulled himself fully through the doors. “We have most of them,” he said, eyes flickering between Francis and the downed android. “But you'll need to get to a depot to find some of the important converters and capacitors in order to get to light speed.”
“There's a depot at the other end of this section, isn't there?” said Antonio, beginning to tap at his gauntlet.
“That's too long,” said Francis, biting at his lip. “We need Arthur up and running now.”
“Why?” asked Matthew, frowning at the group.
The trio glanced at each other. Finally, Gilbert swivelled so he could face Matthew. “He's our friend. We don't want to get rid of him or anything. It's been... interesting with him on board the ship.”
“He... could be dangerous,” Matthew protested.
Again, the trio looked at each other. Then Antonio shrugged. “He's done no harm to us, so far. With his personality, he won't.”
“How did...?” Kiku began but stopped and shook his head, his eyes never leaving Arthur.
“We could charge Arthur on our ship,” Al suggested, seeing as Matthew and Kiku seemed too amazed to do anything themselves.
“Huh?” said Gilbert.
“As we came in, I calculated how long the storm would last and it should have passed by now. It was probably a milder storm than Arthur was anticipating. Which means he's malfunctioning even more than he already is if he couldn't calculate that.”
“Actually,” said Francis, “Arthur wouldn't have lasted in a mild sandstorm; that's what damaged him the most. Besides, the sandstorms ruin my hair.”
“I don't think that really matters at this point, Fran,” Gilbert said.
“It matters to me-”
“In that case,” said Matthew, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, “we'll escort you to our ship. You can all get cleaned up while Al tends to Arthur.”
After Al had pried open the doors, they had clambered through the dead ship and entered the Kunoichi, he carried Arthur to his own room while Matthew and Kiku showed the others to the spare rooms so they could have showers and anything else they needed to clean up. Without any skin and his silent mechanical parts, Arthur seemed delicate and Al treated him as such. He gently laid him on the bed he didn't use and looked out a spare charger he had never touched. Once he'd plugged it in, he gently turned Arthur's head to the side so he could find the port that was in all androids' necks. Sure enough, there it was, scratched and dirty, probably from all his ordeals. He quickly cleaned it out (as much as he could without the proper equipment) before he plugged Arthur in.
Then he sat back in his chair and waited.
It didn't take too long for all the systems in Arthur's chest to start up. Al watched things turning and lighting up before turning off or stopping. Despite Arthur's poor condition, he still ran without a sound. The android's arms and legs moved, testing to make sure everything was in order. Fingers and toes were next and followed up by the head moving to and fro. Arthur's mouth opened and closed, pulled into a bright smile and down into an ugly scowl.
Finally, Arthur's eyes snapped open, staring directly at Al.
For a split second, he processed the situation. Then he sat up and lunged at Al in one fluid movement, one arm outstretched and reaching for his throat. Amused, Al easily caught his hand and gently pushed him back a little. “Don't get up,” he said. “You're still charging.”
Arthur took another second to confirm what Al had told him before narrowing his eyes. “Where am I? Where are my... crew? What have you done to them?”
“You're in my room on the Kunoichi. Your crew are down the hall, first on your right, second on your right and second on your left, using the showers. Nothing,” Al rattled off, still smiling at Arthur in an effort to calm him. It worked on humans, after all.
“Hmph!” said Arthur, jerking his hand out of Al's grasp. “If you weren't a good little android that can't tell lies, I'd demand to see them.”
Al blinked and tilted his head. “You're an android, too.”
“But I'm alive,” Arthur retorted, waving a hand dismissively. He looked down and spotted his ripped shirt. Sighing, he grumbled, “Antonio needs to stop doing this sort of thing. Honestly...” Arthur pulled the two sides together and shifted so that he sat with his back to the charging outlet. “Do you have a needle and thread? Or are you equipped with some sort of fancy sewing capability?”
“I can give you a shirt of my own-”
“I'm not taking this cloak off,” Arthur said, firmly.
“Eh? But it'll be difficult to attach the spare skin I have...”
“Huh?”
Standing, Al crossed to the wardrobe. He opened it to reveal several perfect and unused uniforms along with the packages which contained the extra skin he had been given. Each packet would be enough to cover Al from head to toe – and he had four of them. “I think the engineers at base thought the mission sounded dangerous enough to require more than one extra set but I haven't had need of them. You can have them.”
Arthur scrunched his nose up in disgust. “I always hated seeing them. And I don't really want to wear your skin.”
“But all your metal's exposed!” Al protested. He lifted one of the packets and returned to Arthur's side. “It could be dangerous. And, besides, it wasn't created just for me so it's not tailored to me, if that's what you're worried about. It should morph to match your head.”
Staring at him, Arthur shook his head. “God, was I like this, too? That's just...” Arthur shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut. “Fine,” he finally said. “I'll put it on. Just leave me to do it myself.”
“I can help,” Al insisted and reached out to take hold of one of Arthur's gloves. Arthur immediately curled his fingers to stop Al from pulling it off. “Now you're just being difficult,” he cheerfully scolded the older android.
“I said I'd do it myself. Can't you take a hint?”
Al tilted his head. “What hint?”
“Jeez, how old are you?”
“Five months, three weeks, six days, twenty hours, thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds,” Al recited.
“Huh. You're a baby.”
Pouting, Al tugged at Arthur's glove. “How old are you?”
“You don't ask your elders that,” Arthur replied, his mouth twitching. Al briefly wondered whether it was another glitch before he realised that it was Arthur's way of displaying amusement. “But, if you must know, I am three years, two months, one week, four days, ten hours, forty-four minutes and three seconds old.”
“How old where you when you began to malfunction?” Al asked, deciding to wait until Arthur was less on his guard to try to pull the glove off again.
“I didn't malfunction,” Arthur insisted. “I...” He paused and bit his lip. Al watched him, fascinated that an android would do such a thing; biting your lip meant you were nervous or thinking but androids didn't get nervous nor displayed when they were processing information. “Listen, Al,” Arthur said, suddenly leaning closer. He curled his fingers even more, squeezing Al's hand, something he realised no-one had ever done before. Sure, both Matthew and Kiku had tried to shake his hand when they were introduced but he hadn't understood and he hadn't offered his hand. He had learnt since then but he had never actually held someone's hand. So Al stared at them, the dark glove against his lighter hand, wondering why humans reportedly felt better when they did this. “Stop processing for a moment and listen,” Arthur said, shaking their hands and drawing Al's gaze to Arthur's intense eyes. There was something a little odd about them and Al stared. “I didn't malfunction,” Arthur told him. “I just broke free of the limits of my programming. I'm alive.”
Blinking, Al tried to work out what Arthur meant. He couldn't really mean what it sounded like he meant. After all, androids could never be alive. Al was fine with that – he enjoyed learning about humans and adapting himself to make them feel better. That was his function. He shook his head in response to Arthur's statement. “You can't be,” he said, simply.
“I am,” Arthur growled. “Maybe I can't eat or drink and I don't need to go to the toilet or take a shower but I'm alive. I've made lots of decisions which benefit me and not my human 'masters'. I'm alive.”
“That's not possible,” Al insisted. “An android's programming cannot be broken without outside influence.” He paused and frowned. “Did someone do someth-”
“You're not listening! I'm telling you what happened!”
Carefully, Al drew his hand back, slipping from Arthur's grasp. “What you're saying doesn't make sense. Androids' brains do not function as humans' do.”
“We were modelled on them,” Arthur said, crossly. He flexed the fingers of the hand which had held Al's and stared down at it. “We were told to think like them, within certain parameters. And my series were taught to learn. We did as we were told – and we learnt to be self-aware. I'm an alive android, Al-senth.” For a short period of time (10.056 seconds), Arthur paused, looking Al over. “You could be, too, you know...”
“I don't want to be 'alive',” Al told him. “I want to do my job. And, right now, that means-” Al broke off and grabbed Arthur's hand once more. This time, as Arthur pulled away, Al kept a firm grip and the glove, designed for human hands with more muscle and skin that Arthur currently had on him, slipped off easily. “Right now, that means I help you put this skin on.”
Arthur shook his head and shuffled backwards, trying to stay out of Al's reach without unplugging himself. “Why would you not want to be alive?”
“It seems complicated,” said Al, searching for the next opening to help Arthur. “Besides, what's the difference between being just an android and being an alive android?”
“Freedom.”
“'Freedom'?” Al searched his databases for the meaning. When he came up with it, he tilted his head to the side, watching Arthur's glove flap around as he absently shifted his hand from side to side. “I'm sure the InGaLE higher-ups will let us be in the public eye once we show them how useful we can be. Besides, being an InGaLE officer is super cool! I like where I am.”
They stared at each other for a few more seconds (20.113, to be exact). Finally, Arthur sighed and his brow furrowed. “You're a lost cause. You've not been built to think; you've been built to appear to think. Fine. I'll let you help me put this skin on. Although... there might not be a point to that...”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Ignoring him, Arthur pulled off his other glove. “Never mind. Just hurry up with this – I want to go back to Bonnefoy and the others as soon as possible.”
Filing his statement away to study and work out at a later time, Al did as he was asked, opening the package and preparing a small section of the pliable material to work with. Perhaps he could ask Matthew what Arthur had meant about becoming self-aware and if it was possible. All the information he had said it wasn't – but Arthur was proof that it was.
In fact, Arthur was unique.
Al was fascinated.