Chapter Text
Day 1, hour 1.
I wake up to a belated alarm on my transport Crate. Something tells me I should hurry anyway, something primal. Although the memories from before are... tangled. I remember getting into my crate. I remember the boredom. Then… I must have lost consciousness? No time to worry about that now. I push out and find the world on fire.
So, huh. Good instinct.
Some notes I make as I try and navigate through the flames without burning too much of my skin off:
First, I am definitely on a planet. There’s a dark sky overhead and everything. An atmosphere and trees and the sound of a forest at night. I can hear the noises of an abundant fauna just beyond the roaring of the flames. I usually like forests, I think. I was on a planet with forest before and spent a lot of time patrolling them.
Yes, yes. I like forests.
Second, I am also on a spaceship. Or, what is left of one. The debris of walls and panels, and—oh look, another open SecUnit transport crate. But I check the feeds and channels, and find absolutely nothing to indicate another SecUnit might be alive and nearby.
Third, there is no feed. There is no feed. There are no channels, there are no SecSystems or HubSystems or PilotBots or Planet Control. No cameras or drone channels. There is no feed. There is also: no feed.
(yikes)
Fourth, and maybe that should have first, but I am afraid I am not the best at this part of my job: the alarm might have been a call to fight off raiders. Yes, it must have been. Yet, by now, there are no raiders left to fight. If these charred remains I keep tripping over are actually what is left of the raiders, they will not be hurting anyone ever again. Right now all I can do is search and rescue my clients.
Which is actually kind of a relief. Client search and rescue is something I can do, and am sort-of good at.
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Day 1, hour 3.
I was perhaps a little premature in saying I was good at search and rescue. Most of the fire has gone out by now, and in the wreckage, I’ve located and identified the four other SecUnits that had served their contract with me, including ‘Central,’ the Elite or Combat or whatever SecUnit. All four were armed but not outfitted in armor. They must not have had time before the raiders were upon them.
I have also found and located seventeen of said raiders, heavily armed and armored. although in such a poor state that their armor, at least, is beyond use.
(At least my fellow SecUnits went down fighting. Apparently that’s all they can ask for, and all they want. Not that I ever dared ask.)
I have also found and dug out a total of three clients.
So, pretty good at finding shit. Rescuing? Maybe not so much. Because everyone of those clients I have found and uncovered is unfortunately very dead .
I thought I’d be good with that; the whole emergency rescue thing. I thought I’d be happy to at least make it to the site of the disaster and be able to try and help. How often have I wished in the past that I’d be allowed to a cave-in or road accident, and Central told me blatantly not to bother and keep to my designated patrol route? How often did I add dead humans to my tally? A tally that was only allowed the “human resource” marker because they were not assigned clients?
Well, now I’m here, and it’s actual real clients. And I suck at this too. A little blood and a few burns don’t really bother me. But every time I realise a client is dead, I feel a little more hopeless. It’s not even that my fate is connected to these people. I should have been there to help, and yet I wasn’t. I don’t even know them, don’t even recognise them. But they died, and I wasn’t even there to try and prevent that. Because of some fault in my crate, but I cannot help but think the crate’s fault is also my fault.
Day 1, hour 5: (day2, hour1?)
The sun is slowly rising when I give up. I cannot find a single living thing, and the window of a human surviving in these conditions has already closed. Perhaps if I had had my drones, I could have been faster, saved at least one. Yet, it’s hopeless. In defeat, I drop myself to the ground.
What happened is reasonably clear. The crew must have taken over our client-privileges as an emergency procedure when they realised they were being raided. But they were either too late, or never had the time, because the other SecUnits had not been prepared before the raiders started shooting everyone. Still, the raid must not have ended in success, because they didn’t even manage to lift the transport-crates. And seventeen raiders sounds like a steep price to pay.
Anyway, that’s all over now. And I wasn’t even there for it. Which is fine. I hate shooting stuff. But I wish my Governor Module would get the hint and fry me already. I am aware of my failings without it giving me time to reflect, thank you very much.
Day 1, hour 6:
So, I’m pretty sure Governor Modules are not supposed to wait until I am sorry before they fry my brain. Also, I was already sorry. So, I might have to comb the area one last time.
When I do I hear a faint scratching sound coming from one of the transport Crates. It’s closed, but its code assures me there’s no SecUnit inside. Still, I realise this is the best place for a human to survive the crash, so I open it up,
and promptly get shot in the face.
I’m not mad.
I’m not even sure why I am disappointed.