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By nature - or programming, Daniels figured - Walter was not one to unnecessarily dominate any conversation. He barely even ever instigated one.
One time she had caught him talking to himself while preparing the plants for transport to the planet surface, but when his sensors picked up on her presence he had fallen silent immediately, looking as close to sheepish as he probably could.
Now, on the way back to the now obsolete spaceship Covenant he seemed almost excruciatingly talkative. She wondered whether he had picked up on her discomfort and was trying to distract her, trying to put her at ease with what was going to happen.
It couldn't be nerves, she reminded herself. Not with him. He didn't have nerves.
He had asked her for this, asked her to quit postponing the inevitable. ‘You’re showing symptoms of prolonged exposure to stress, Daniels. Your therapist explicitly recommended you remove all potential sources of stress from your environment.”
Back then she had realised that drawing this out, she was being cruel with the both of them. It was inevitable.
Now he was talking about everything from the weather forecast for the next week - “I recommend covering the news seedlings with a plane before the rain comes” - to inconsequential topics - “one of the specimen we discovered by the riverside has given birth. Despite their resemblance to felines, they do in fact lay eggs.”
“Normal cats don’t have wings either,” She said- the most she had contributed to this one-sided conversation ever since is began, but it seemed enough to encourage him.
“I have a theory that they use their wings for echolocation as well as flight,” Walter said, “Might be worth looking into for the biologists among the colonists.”
“I didn’t you were such an expert on animals,” She remarked.
“I’m not.” ‘- not like David,’ hang in the air.
Even forever lost on that strange planet, David had followed them here. He was there in the distrustful glances the villagers directed at Walter, in the damages to their ship and the empty graves by the riverside near their village and in sudden, strange silences like the one hanging between them now.
She realised now that his attempts at conversation - however unwelcome - really had been making this easier.
The corridors of the Covenant were dark these days and void of the soft hum of the engines that she had grown used to. Everything felt dead and soon they would take the spaceship apart to repurpose its parts for the houses they planned to built on this new world. Daniels was glad that her cabin would be made of wood and nails instead.
Inside the Engineering Department, Walter powered up some of the computers from the remaining energy reserves and opened the door to a small adjacent room where the light came to life with a slight flicker.
“All you'll need to do is enter the command codes,” Walter explained calmly, but Daniels only had eyes for the contraption at the centre of the room. The decom-unit looked like a nondescript human-sized metal chest, its exterior not too different from the tool-boxes they had used to carry their equipment on and off the ship, if it weren’t for the tubes and pipes and cables that connected the unit to a row of vials by the wall. “Processing won’t take longer than five minutes. Once it’s-”
“If you want to be with the others, I’ll make it happen.” She didn’t look up from the decom-unit.
“The others?”
If he were human, he'd probably blink in confusion.
“By the river,” She clarified.
Walter’s hesitation might have seemed short by human standards, but she knew these nanoseconds were a long consideration.
“There won't be need to dispose of me. The decommission unit will melt me at 450C° to harvest any reusable materials of value and dissolve and vaporise the rest of my physical remains.”
Daniels glanced at the vials by the wall. So she would walk out of here with any valuable parts of Walter’s body under her arm. But then - the other graves by the river were empty as well.
Tennessee might be willing to join a little ceremony. He’d probably even defend her against the inevitable backlash from the other villagers, but she wouldn’t ask him to. This would be on her shoulders alone.
Walter typed a few commands into the computer console and the top of what had looked like a chest snapped open - like jaws, Daniels, thought - to reveal the inside of the decom-unit. Daniels had no doubt that the human-shaped indentation was designed to accurately accommodate Walter’s form, enclosing him snugly while the needles inside it would penetrate his skin to access the systems beneath it, pumping acid into his system that would eat away any not re-usable substances. Those were the teeth.
“This will hurt.”
“Not at all,” Walter reassured her. Reassured her. “I can deactivate my sensors at will.”
Single-handedly he typed at a speed unmatched by any (even two-handed) human, and opened a window awaiting her command codes, before turning away from the screen and towards the open decom-unit, seemingly still unfazed by what was about to happen, until she stepped into his path.
“I don’t want to do this, Walter.”
“It’s the protocol,” He reminded her. “The final decommission of an android needs to be approved by the commanding officer of the ship, station or colony in question.”
What he said was probably written word for word into a thick rulebook somewhere many light years away from Origae-6. Maybe she'd even find a copy somewhere onboard the Covenant but she knew she would never care to look.
“What if I don’t approve?”
“The colony won’t take that well.”
The colonists’ distaste for Walter was no secret. Initial indifference had turned to distrust and revulsion once Daniels and Tennessee had explained the fate of their fellow crew-members and who had been responsible for them. With no explanation as to the reasons for David’s behaviour, people quickly decided that keeping a synthetic of the same model around was too dangerous and the scheduled decommission of Walter had been one of their first priorities upon landing.
Daniels had tried to postpone the inevitable as long as she possibly could. She had told them how Walter had saved their lives again and again, risking his own in the process, but they hadn’t been willing to listen.
Their dismay had turned against her as well, manifested in angry glares and constant under-mining of her authority. Village assemblies happened without giving her notice and the decision for her to visit a therapist had been made against her wishes. All of that she would have accepted with gritted teeth, if she hadn't had to watch Tennessee suffer a similiar treatment every time he stepped for her. Unexpectedly, it had been Walter who had cracked first, asking her to do as they asked.
“Since I was activated, I knew that I'd likely end in a place like this. This means I fulfilled my purpose. And on a personal note, there's no one I'd rather have doing this than you.”
“You saved my life.”
“I did my duty. Just like you are now.”
She reached for bandaged stump of his left hand, her fingers wrapping gently around his wrist, dreading the moment she’d have to let go.
He looked at her expectantly.
“You’re a good person, Walter.”
“I’m neither.”
“I know better.”
For an instant, there was something else in Walter’s eyes, as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. After all, she figured, he was designed to put up with human folly.
He stood still even as she stepped closer, basking in his heat when their chests finally touched and she let go of his wrist to wrap her arms around him and pull him into her embrace.
People who'd never met a synthetic usually expected their bodies to be hard and cold to the touch, but he felt no less human in her arms than anyone else she'd ever held like this.
His body was warm and solid and alive.
The body that would no longer exist in a few minutes. The mechanics would be grateful for any of the cooling fluids, the gold from his circuitry would find use with the electricians and dentists.
Finally his arms wrapped around her shoulders, gently nudging her closer against him, engulfing her in his warmth.
When her lips found his, they felt as soft and pliant and human as the rest of him, immediate opening for her when her tongue searched entrance. (nothing like David, nothing like Violence and Fear and Intrusion)
The fingers of his remaining hand trailed up her back along her spine, finally cupping the back of her neck with his delicate fingers.
There was need in her kiss and he gave exactly as she needed, gentle and patient and endlessly accepting, swallowing the soft whimper that escaped her throat.
Her own need for oxygen ended the kiss, but their face remained bare millimeters apart. By now, she could tell when he was puzzled. She recognised the flickering of his eyes when he looked for answers on a human face and the slight raise of his brows and the scarcely perceptible inclination of his head.
“I’m sorry if this was...if I…”
“It was much better than my last kiss."
The chuckle forcing its way up her throat felt weak and jittery and not at all like it should belong to her. “Mine, too.”
“I’d remember the technique for future reference, but-”
He quietened when she rested her forehead against his chest, her face buried in the fabric of another of his hoodies. It occurred to her that she’d never asked him why he preferred them over the simple, blue overalls the Walter-units were usually dressed in.
She never dwelled on anyone’s past for too long and had never regretted that.
But who would remember Walter?
There were no friends and no family out there who knew his life, just humans who had caught glimpses of another Walter-unit, never knowing all, never caring to find out.
She could feel the thumb of his hand on the back of her neck, rubbing small soothing circles against the base of her skull and wondered how such a gesture could be hidden away in any line of coding.
“I will miss you," She said. She promised.
“That’s very kind of you. But I'd rather you didn't."
She swallowed through the sudden thighteness of her throat.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Daniels.”
He still sounded unperturbed.
His hand dropped away and he stepped out of the circumference of her arms, leaving her cold where previously his skin had brushed against hers.
She watched as he discarded his clothes, but couldn’t bring herself to admire the inhuman beauty of each thoughtfully sculpted muscle or the contractions of false tendons beneath his skin or the elegance of his long-boned limbs. He looked vulnerable like this, standing before her fully in the nude for the first time, even if he might not be aware of it. It was easier to look at the crumpled heap of clothes on the floor than at him, if only for a moment -
Without any human shame of his own nudity, he picked up the clothes on the floor and folded them meticulously, seemingly unhindered by his lack of a left hand, before placing them on the small table next to the computer.
His movements were elegant and precise even when he climbed into the open decom-unit, lying flat on his back in the marked indentations. He didn’t flinch when the needles sprang to live with an ugly sound and penetrated his artificial skin like fangs.
Daniels wanted to touch him, wanted to assure herself one last time that his skin felt as human to the touch as she remembered, but before she could lift her hand, a white-blue force field crackled to life between them, sending tingling little waves of energy dancing across her skin.
“What’s this?”
“The force field contains the heat inside the machine as well as hinders any attempts at resistance, should my emergency protocols be accidentally activated during the decommissioning process.”
“Are you saying...that you’ll...fight back?”
“I’ll do my best not to.”
She wondered what could be worse, watching him struggle against the heat eating away at him, fighting his fate while she watched the artificial flesh melt off his bones (like He had, like she had seen Him fight as he burnt in his cryo-pod) or watching him go in silence, the same nonchalant expression on his face that he wore now.
“I’ll never forget what you did for us,” She promised, but then corrected herself. “I’ll never forget you.”
“Thank you.”
Perhaps it was just the way the light of electricity of the force field caught in the artificial lenses of his eyes but she thought she detected some uneasiness in his expression now. Human worry, almost.
With a last - inadequate - encouraging smile, she stepped towards the computer awaiting her command codes, the tiny black cursor blinking expectantly.
Knowing a series of numbers and letters was all that qualified her to make this decision and yet she was acutely aware that she shouldn’t be standing here and she shouldn’t be making it.
I did my duty.
Walter hadn’t spoken much about David, but from he had said, she could imagine his smugness if he were here to witness this. This was everything he had told Walter about humanity. Everything he had hated.
Just like you are now.
Perhaps Walter would have been better off taking his ‘brother’ up on his offer. If he had stayed on that cursed planet, he’d live.
“Daniels?” Walter asked, over the soft crackling of the force field.
“Yes?”
“You’ve been staring at the screen for two minutes now. If you forgot your passcodes you can use your biometric data to-”
“I didn’t forget my passcodes.” She snapped with more vigour than intended. “Sorry.” It was in poor taste to be short with a doomed man.
“That's quite alright.”
Her hands felt too stiff to operate the keyboard and yet her trembling fingers typed the codes as if by muscle memory alone, each character appearing on screen only to blur in front of her eyes.
Walter hadn’t just pulled David off of her and given his hand to save her from the creature that wanted to rip her to shreds. He had distracted her with his easy conversation when she couldn’t stand being around the others. He had offered her help with the most basic of tasks so that she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts. He had been there when the cabin by the lake had seemed too far away.
She didn’t know what she had done until the crackling of the force field died down with a sudden pop.
Her finger was resting on the touchscreen over the word ABORT.
“I can’t do this.”
“You have to,” Walter said. He hadn’t moved since the force field had been deactivated, waiting patiently for his decommission to continue.
“I don’t have to do anything.” I’m human.
“If the idea of the melting process is too emotionally distressing for you in light of your recent experiences, you can leave the room. It doesn’t require supervision.”
“I’m not going to melt you. I won’t do this. You’re my friend.”
“If you want to transfer this duty to someone else, you will have to resign your command. Then Tennessee can-”
“No.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I won’t do this. I want you to get out of that thing right now.”
“Daniels,” He said carefully, his mind visibly searching for a new strategy, a new angle to handle her strange, human moodswings.
“I almost fucking killed you, because some assholes in suits said so.”
“They are the democratically elected representatives of-”
“I told you to get out of there!”
The anger in her voice wasn’t directed at him and yet he climbed out of that disgusting apparatus slightly quicker than he had entered it, the needles dislodging from his body with a strangely wet, ugly sound, leaving a pattern of incisions all over his body.
“I’m the Captain of this ship now and you are part of that crew-”
“Technically I’m classified as-”
“I’m not killing you.”
She didn’t bother shutting down the offending computer - she had to see him, had to see Walter move and speak, had to see those soft changes of expression on his face, had to watch the incisions close where the needles had penetrated his skin to suck out his liquified interior mechanisms.
He held still when she let her hands wander across the dips and planes of his smooth skin, assuring herself of the life and warmth in them.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite alright. I knew this might be too distressing for you.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I’m not apologising for not doing it.”
“I see.”
She didn’t have the energy to feel awkward about hugging his larger body to hers, wrapping her arms protectively around his unclothed frame while fully aware by how far his physical strength exceeded hers.
“I can’t believe you’d let me do this to you.”
“People were giving you a hard time. After everything you’ve gone through, the additional stress of-”
She wanted to smack him again, but instead she buried her face in his neck, grateful when he understood it as a cue to stop speaking.
He wrapped his arms around her carefully, as if handling something infinitely precious - and breakable. Daniels almost scoffed at the idea. A while ago no one would have described her as breakable but that was how she felt these days. Always on the verge of falling apart, held together only by duty and guilt and sheer will. It felt nice to let someone else hold her together for once.
“You’ll need to leave,” She whispered in the crook of his neck. “If they overrule my decision, I don’t know what I can do to stop them. The forest or the mountains...somewhere where they won’t find you…”
“There are other ways. I can dispose of myself if you’d find that easier on your conscience.”
“What?”
“I was created to serve,” He reminded her. She didn’t know whether he was reciting the slogan from his creation on purpose. “Serving humans is my purpose and if you want me gone...I’ll fulfil my purpose. I can find a way to deactivate myself permanently. But I can’t be without a purpose.”
“Do you want to die?”
“I don’t want anything,” He admitted while his remaining hand caressed the small of her back as if absent-mindedly. “But some things are preferable over others even to me.”
She tried to speak his language.
“You prefer...decommission over leaving?”
“I’ll leave, if that is what you want,” He assured her tonelessly and she could feel the vibrations of his throat against her cheek. She wanted him safe. She wanted her husband and her friends alive. She wanted a cabin by a lake. “But I’d be without a purpose forever. It’s not preferable.”
“Since they don’t want you...maybe you can find a new purpose?”
“I already have.” He whispered, his arms tightening their embrace around her ever so slightly, “But now you’re telling me to leave.”
It took her longer than it should have to grasp the gravity of his words. In her life, she had been many things to many people but she doubted anyone would have gone so far as to call her the purpose of their existence.
“I almost killed you.”
“Decommissioned me,” he corrected. “Upon my request.”
A request made out of concern for her mental well-being.
“I’ll go away with you then.”
“You can’t go away with me. Humans need social interaction to thrive.”
“Well, I certainly hope you’ll interact with me.”
“You’d give up your life to maintain a machine.”
It was the first time she noticed that when she placed her ear against the side of his throat, she could hear the soft, mechanical hum his body emitted. It was strangely calming.
A constant, soothing sound where a heartbeat should be.
“I’m living in a tent and the people I live with told me to kill my friend. That’s not the life I want.”
Removing her chin from his shoulder she could no longer hear the soft noise of whatever mechanisms made him run, but she could see him alive and well and close and see his eyes search her face, scanning her, thousands of algorithms seeking to understand.
She cupped his face with both her hands and could feel the corners of her mouth twitch when he leant into her touch.
“We’ll go somewhere nice. With a lake. The both of us. And we’ll build our cabin.”
“It was your husband-”
“Our cabin, Walter. Tennessee can come visit if he wants to. And perhaps the others will get around too, one day.”
“What if they don’t?”
Daniels half-shrugged.
“Then fuck them.”
“I'd rather not,” He deadpanned, looking at her with expectancy in his eyes, as close to pride as he could probably get and she couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.
“Your jokes are getting better.”
His face fell, returning to careful neutrality again.
“You didn’t enjoy my jokes before?”
Despite his lack of emotional capacity, she found she didn’t have a heart to tell him that his sense of humour fell flat on most humans.
It was easier to kiss him instead, feeling his lips part tentatively, allowing her entrance when she sought it. She explored the inside of his mouth with her tongue, taking in all the ways it was different from a human’s and all the ways it was the same, the smoothness of his tongue as well as the strange tastelessness of his mouth. There was no breath puffing against her face from the nose rubbing against her cheek and yet his hair felt perfectly human between her fingers. She could feel his hand flat against the small of her back, gently pulling her in closer without urgency.
Something about the tenderness of his touch and the softness of his kiss made her want to stay here forever, drowning in a devotion she was convinced no human could rival.
When she withdrew for need of air, he broke the kiss immediately. The tip of his tongue peeked out to wetten his lips.
She glanced down his sculpted body, absent-mindedly noting the answer to one of Tennessee’s questions about android-anatomy resting against her side, impressive even in its unerect state. He followed her gaze, seemingly unconcerned with her lack of discretion.
“You should put on your clothes,” She suggested.
“Certainly.”
Unabashed by his own nudity, he walked past her to the table on top of which he had left his clothes to put them back on.
Getting dressed, it turned out, posed a greater difficulty with one hand than undressing did and she decided to have mercy with him and help (Or ‘lend him a hand’, as he put it, as always delighted at his own wit), despite all the times he must have managed on his own. Watching him fulfil all his tasks even after the loss of his hand with almost unhampered efficiency, it had never occurred to her that he too might struggle sometimes or that he might need help.
He had certainly never asked. But then, he likely was programmed not to.
“Do you know anything about living alone in the wild?” She asked, while helping him replace the dark bandage he wore to conceal the ragged stump where his hand used to be.
Walter considered for a moment.
“I know how to play the flute.”
“And I have a box full of metal nails and now idea what to do with them.”
He tilted his head. “You should bring a hammer.”
“We’ll figure something out.”