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You are speeding towards the atmosphere of a planet you only know of from stories, pursued by a foe that doesn’t dare come near your own planet, but will gladly attack this one. Volunteers to help this planet are scarce, and you are younger and smaller than the cutoff, but the organization has grown desperate. The Shargs are smart enough not to attack your own planet, which has hundreds of thousands of your kind ready to defend it, but if they gain a foothold on Earth they may be able to grow the resources to attack your world.
So the organization sends volunteers to Earth, to defend it as a strategic defense of their own planet. You have always wanted to go, for all that you are even less suited to combat than most of your kind; you work in transportation, twisting gravity to send yourself rocketing through the atmosphere without disturbing the environment. You are young, and possibly stupid, but you want to fight. The requirements to join the defense force at home are even stricter than the ones for Earth, so to Earth you go.
There’s another reason, of course. You know that the dominant species on Earth is uniquely compatible with your kind, able to share minds and provide their own training to help you fight. The descriptions that the organization gives out are utilitarian, scientifically accurate and focused on the practical. But you read between the lines and find something you’ve always yearned for, this connection with another person that you could never seem to find at home.
The older two lead you along a path long since marked out by previous volunteers, headed for the small portal in the shield that protects the planet. The Shargs are on your tail, having spotted you as you were passing Mars. The others assure you that as long as you are fast enough, you can make it safely into the atmosphere, and the shield will do the rest.
You follow their lead, but something doesn’t feel right; you spend every day flying through the highest reaches of the atmosphere at home, and you know the physics of space travel intimately. The Shargs are messy, organic beings with no elegance to them, but they can move through space with an ease that few beings possess. You calculate their speed and trajectory, compare it to your own, and know that they will catch up just before you reach the shield.
You could race ahead and leave them in the dust. But the other two are not as fast, and if the Shargs do catch up you will need them for protection, so you maintain your speed and prepare to fight.
As you predicted, a Sharg slams into you as you approach the satellite. You pause, trying to throw it off, while the other two continue on as if nothing is wrong. You call for help, but it’s too late- your communications are scrambled by the shield, and you’re left to plummet through the narrow hole in the sattelite on your own, desperately directing your fall towards an empty area of desert in the hopes that you can defeat the Sharg on your own before it hurts anyone.
You hit the ground hard, only surviving by lightening the gravity to cushion your fall. Rocks and dust collapse on top of you, leaving you buried with no visible way out. You strain, but you’re low on power from the long flight, and it will take a moment before you can claw your way out.
You lift yourself up, dust and rubble falling off of your frame, and find someone standing in front of you. You’ve seen pictures of humans before, but this one is so small- are they all like that? You know that only their young can form bonds with your kind, but you didn’t expect them to seem so… fragile.
The little human smiles up at you with awe, lifting its hand and waving it back and forth. You remember this from your research, too- a human greeting. Wishing you could return its smile, you wave back.
The ground begins to shake, and you realize that the Sharg must not have been killed by the impact like you thought. You scramble to your feet, scooping up the human in your hands and running out of the cave. You end up in a canyon, tripping and stumbling as the Sharg sends you flying into the opposite cliff. You keep your hands clasped tight, desperately hoping that the human is okay.
You land far enough away from the Sharg that you can take a moment to check on the human. It seems fine, so you drop it carefully by the cliff and turn to fight. You have no combat training, no weapons, but you know that others of your kind have done this and surely you can do the same. The Sharg lunges at you, and you wrestle with it, trying to slam it against the cliffs until it dies. But the Sharg is armored, more strongly than you expected, and it crawls onto your back and starts slicing. Your armor holds, but it won’t do so forever- you try to throw it off, but to no avail.
At the corner of your vision, you see something flying through the air. A moment later, the Sharg has been knocked off of your back, and the little human is falling through the air. You dive to catch them, and they grin up at you again, breathless and exhilarated. They saved your life, you realize; this tiny, fragile human helped you where you couldn’t do it alone.
You decide then and there that this is the human you want to bond with.
You land a safe distance away, hoping that the Sharg is dead, or at least incapacitated for long enough to do this. You set the human down, and it still looks at you with that same awe, but there’s a certain understanding there now, too. You’ve only just met, and you doubt it’s met another of your kind before, and now it knows you as a real thing rather than just an idea; and the same goes for you. In this brief time, you now know this human, know that it’s willing to do reckless things to keep you safe, even at the expense of its own life. And you know that it’s willing to fight.
You kneel in front of the human and place one hand over your chest. It watches your hand, confused, as you slowly move from pointing at yourself to pointing at the human.
It says something; a question, you think. You don’t understand its language, not without a bond, but you think it’s asking whether you’re sure.
Yes, you say, though you know the human won’t understand; not yet. Still, it seems to get the idea.
It steps forward and touches your hand, saying something else you don’t understand, but it doesn’t sound like a no. You take that as permission and gaze at their tiny face, initiating the bond.
The descriptions you had read were scientific, utilitarian. You knew that it would be different, deeper than words can describe, and you find that you were right. You can feel the connection to this child’s soul, flashes of memory and emotion dancing together until the line between you blurs. You feel their awe, their determination, and a sort of desperate joy of a far-fetched dream come true. They must feel your emotions too, your joy at seeing another planet for the first time, your determination to protect it, and your happiness at finally finding someone to truly connect with.
The bond solidifies, and the little human opens their eyes. They shake their head, then look up at you, tired but happy all the same.
“Oh right,” they say, and you feel a spark of joy that you can understand their words, “A name. You need a name.”
They glance to the side, then back up at you. “How about… Buddy?”
It’s perfect, you say, and your human can’t quite understand you as well as you understand them, but it’s good enough for now. You shift your facial display, mimicking the human’s eyes, and blink at them.
“That’s what my dad used to call me,” the little human continues, and you feel just a twinge of sadness before they shake it off. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Buddy. I’m Stanford.”
Stanford: a perfect name for your little human.
“I guess we’re now a team,” they say. You don’t get a chance to respond; the Sharg growls, clawing its way up out of the canyon to attack you once again. It’s larger than before, having undoubtedly consumed some of the earth to make itself grow. You snap to attention, focusing on two objectives: protecting Stanford, and defeating the Sharg.
It goes after Stanford first, this time, perhaps looking for revenge for the well-placed bike attack earlier. You dart in front of it, holding it back long enough for Stanford to have time to run. You would much rather scoop them up and take off, to get out of range of the Sharg, but you need an opening and you don’t have the combat experience to make one.
While you’re distracted, the Sharg gets an arm between you and it and tosses you across the desert. You impact the side of a nearby rock formation, too stunned to do anything before the Sharg charges you and grabs your head, squeezing even as you struggle.
“No!” you hear Stanford yell, and you try to tell them to run, but you know already that it’s no use; Stanford will try to protect you as much as you protect them.
“Hey, you oversized roach!”
Well, you tried.
“Over here!” Stanford shouts, throwing rocks up at the Sharg. “I said over here!”
You grip the Sharg’s claw tighter, trying to break through, trying to keep it focused on you instead of going after Stanford- but you don’t have to. The next moment, a flying object impacts the side of the Sharg and detonates, causing it to stumble away from both you and Stanford.
You can do nothing but try to press yourself against the cliff, out of the way of the action, as another of your kind begins attacking the Sharg with a sword. It takes only a matter of seconds for the warrior to notice the Sharg’s weak underbelly and pierce it with a dagger, finally ending its life.
You stand, turning to face the warrior. They nod at you, but don’t say anything; a moment later, a human emerges from their chest.
“You good?” the human asks, looking not at you but at Stanford.
“Captain Tanaka?” Stanford asks, dumbfounded. You don’t know that name, but you do know that Captain is a high rank, so he must be important.
Hello, you say to the warrior. I’m Buddy.
Tombo, they say. You know you were supposed to choose from the humans at the campus?
I like this one, you say simply, and they shrug.
“Take a sample for R&D,” Tanka says, and Tombo kneels down to do just that. You watch as the two humans walk out from under the Sharg’s corpse, Stanford recounting how you met him. You think he doesn’t give himself enough credit, but Stanford doesn’t understand you fully yet and Tanaka won’t hear you at all, so you can’t say anything.
It gets easier, Tombo says, as if they know exactly what you’re thinking.
I know, you reply. Tombo doesn’t seem to believe you.
“Let’s get back to campus,” Tanaka says.
“What? me? Go back to campus?” Stanford asks; you feel a fragment of a memory there, something that went wrong, but it disappears a moment later.
“Buddy bonded with you, right?” Tanaka says.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Stanford says.
“We’ll never fully understand how the Robos choose who to bond with,” Tanaka says, “but that bond can’t be broken, and Buddy chose you.”
“You’re a mech cadet now,” Tanaka says, and you take the cue, kneeling down and offering your hand to Stanford. He laughs and runs forward to jump onto your palm, remaining steady as you carefully stand and hold him near your chest. You open your chest hatch, revealing the compartment you’d had installed before you left, and wait for Stanford to jump in.
“The ride can be rough without an exosuit,” Tanaka says. “Hang on in there.”
Stanford nods, then jumps forwards, exiting your field of view. You have all manner of sensors pointed at him inside the cockpit, so you know he’s perfectly fine in there, but you still worry; these alterations to accommodate human pilots are far from experimental, after twenty earth-years of refinement, but you don’t trust the new installations as much as your own eyes.
“See you back at base,” Tanaka says, and you feel Stanford finally climb into the chair. You shut the hatch, sealing him in, and hope that he’ll be okay during the ride.
You ready? You ask, just to be sure.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Stanford says. “...I think.”
You consider that good enough, because Tombo is already taking off and you need to follow them. You match their speed, which is far less than your own top speed, and hope that Tombo knows better than you what speeds an unsecured human can take.
Then Tombo shoots up into the sky, and you follow them, and when you see them turn off their thrusters and start falling back down you realize that they’re just showing off. This can’t be that good for Stanford, but his vitals are still fine and he hasn’t injured himself, so you keep following Tombo for lack of a better option.
The rest of the flight is smoother, giving Stanford a chance to reorient. You spot the landing pad and do your best to land smoothly, though you skid a little bit; you aren’t used to these large metal surfaces. Back home, metal is used exclusively for building more of your kind, not for building structures.
Stanford jumps out onto your palm dizzy, but none the worse for wear. You hold him carefully, unwilling to put him down until he gets his balance back.
Tanaka emerges from Tombo’s cockpit, entirely at ease.
“Well, Buddy’s small, but they’re certainly fast, I’ll give them that,” he says. You sort of take offense to the “small” comment, but agree with his assessment of your speed; after all, it’s what you were built for.
The sound of motors whirring draws your attention, and you glance to your right to find a massive platform raising itself to match the level of the landing pad. Two humans are standing on it, and you can tell just by looking at them that they are mech pilots- or cadets, rather, as they look to be the same age as Stanford.
“I told you, new robo,” one of them says to the other.
You watch as Tanaka hops down to meet them, easily using the thrusters on his exosuit to break his fall.
“Maya, Frank, I want you to meet the newest member of your team,” he says, gesturing back to you. Once again, you take his cue, and gently set Stanford down on the ground. You keep your hand beside him, giving him something to lean on since he’s still clearly dizzy.
“Stanford?” the short-haired one says, glancing between him and you.
“And his Robo mech, Buddy,” Tanaka continues. You squint your eyes in an approximation of a smile, trying to seem friendly.
“That Robo bonded with him?” the longer-haired one asks.
“Yes,” Tanaka says, leaving no room for doubt. “Stanford is part of your cadet class now.”
Tanaka continues explaining something, but your mind is stuck on their reactions to Stanford. Why is the fact that you chose him so strange? Stanford will undoubtedly be a perfect pilot- he’s able to think on the fly, you saw that yourself, and that will pair well with your own speed and mobility. These other cadets are undoubtedly good choices for their Robos, you don’t doubt that, but they lack the edge that Stanford has. They have training, but not grit.
Maybe you just value different things than the other Robos do.
The two cadets approach Stanford, leading him onto the platform that you now realize is a massive lift, large enough to accommodate even the largest Robos. You follow them, carefully placing yourself at the back of the lift and standing still. You watch the desert as you descend, listening quietly to the cadets’ conversation.
“Captain Tanaka. Pretty amazing to meet the very first pilot,” Stanford says.
“Get used to it,” Long-hair (maya?) says. “He’s our Robo instructor. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of him.”
The cadets stand in silence for an award moment. The other one you don’t quite know breaks it:
“So, Buddy, huh? That’s a cool name,” he says.
You look down, realizing that he’s talking about you. You can’t respond, but Stanford can, and the question is really addressed to him anyway.
“Yeah, my dad used to call me that,” Stanford says.
“He doesn’t call you that anymore?” Maya asks.
“He’s dead,” Stanford says shortly.
You feel a sort of numbness from Stanford, a well-conditioned suppression of years-old grief. You want to say something, but there isn’t time; the other cadets turn around, and the solid rock gives way to a large, open room: the docks.
“Whoa,” Stanford says, thoroughly distracted from the previous topic.
“You’ve probably never been down to the docks before, have you?” short-hair says.
You glance over your shoulder as the lift nears the bottom, spotting another trainee (not a cadet, doesn’t have a bond) waiting on the ground.
“What?” the trainee says. “What is that? Is that a new Robo?”
She sounds… desperate. And angry.
“What is he doing here?” she says, addressing short-hair rather than talking to Stanford directly. You already don’t like her.
“What are you doing here?” short-hair counters. “Planning other ways to stab teammates in the back?”
She glares at him, then shoves her way towards Stanford. “That’s my Robo,” she growls.
“Whoa, take it easy,” Maya says, getting between them.
Ha. Her Robo? You’d never choose her, even if you made it to the selection as planned.
“They’ve already bonded,” short-hair says, smirking as he turns away.
“They’ve what? W-with mop boy ?!” the angry cadet says.
“I can’t believe it either, but that’s what Captain Tanaka said,” Maya says, leading the angry cadet away.
“This is garbage,” she hisses. “I won selection, I deserve the Robo.”
“Yeah, well, Buddy chose me,” Stanford says, and you know this won’t end well but you’re afraid to step in, in case you hurt someone. You want nothing more than to defend Stanford, and to defend your own choice, but this isn’t your fight.
The angry cadet glowers at Stanford and throws herself forward, her fist stopping inches from his face as Maya steps between them once again.
“Whoa, Liv, chill,” she says. “Come on, let’s walk it off.”
They leave, and you finally move, carefully moving off of the lift as you watch them go.
Short-hair comes back, glancing up at you. “So, aisle or window?”
You glance around at the dock, and realize it was a joke a moment before he confirms it:
“I’m just kidding, there are no windows,” he says.
Short-hair leads Stanford deeper into the docks, and you follow them. You half-listen to short-hair talking about the purpose of the docks, more concerned with the other sleeping Robos in their spots. The red Robo that you came here with is sleeping in a slot to the right of the main aisle, entirely unaware of the world. You wonder what their name is; names are a human concept, but you’re happy to have one now. They must have one, if they have a pilot.
You keep walking, glancing around, and only notice the conversation going on below you when you feel anxiety coming from Stanford.
“Buddy didn’t get to check out anyone else,” Stanford says. “Maybe there’s someone… better?”
You act like you’re not listening, resisting the urge to defend your choice once again. You can remind Stanford again and again that you chose him for a reason later; right now, it seems like short-hair is doing a pretty good job of reassuring him.
You carefully look over the docking station, finding the controls to open it up and then lock yourself in. You are tired, low on power, after the long flight through space and then the fight with the Sharg.
You carefully step closer to Stanford, about to ask if you should go to sleep now.
“You’re good here,” Stanford says before you can even ask. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Well, maybe he does understand you, even if he doesn’t know what you’re saying.
You wave and step into the slot, letting it raise you up and lock you in. It’s different from the sleeping pods back home, but you don’t mind it; you like the platform where humans can walk at your eye level, because it means Stanford can come up and talk to you if he wants.
Stanford is still talking to the other cadet, but he feels calm, more sure of himself. You decide that it’s alright to finally get some rest and go to sleep.