Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The job was done. Finally done. Today was the first day Milo woke up knowing he would not be running through battle sims and war strategies to ensure his creation was functioning optimally. Today was the day he would finally be put on another windowless ship, made to fall asleep along the way, and taken back to the HQ base he'd left from. Where, he hoped, his husband Lyle would be waiting to take him home and he could forget this whole job, or at least try to.

It was also the last day he would wake up in the depressing little suite that was his living quarters. It was a step up from a hotel suite, he supposed. He had his own bedroom, with a holoscreen that simulated a window to the planet outside (his quarters were in the interior of the building, so he had no actual windows to the outside, something he personally felt was done on purpose, but whatever). Furniture was basic and functional, the standard military issue stuff most everyone on the base had. The clothes he had were similar: tank tops or tshirts in gray or black, navy military pants, black sweatshirt jackets, a few blue coverall suits like the mechanics and engineers wore, and brown combat/work boots, all standard military issue (he also had an ID badge that doubled as an access card he wore around his neck along with his glowing blue crystal pendant. Because he was still a civilian, he wasn't given the implants military officers were given: the access card was specifically for him). He also had his own full bathroom, complete with a shower. He even had his own kitchen and dining area in case he couldn't get to the mess hall at designated meal times, or he just didn't want to go there. This was where his only window was, and it looked out on the catwalk in front of his quarters and the space below.

Unlike the soldiers on the base, Milo was quartered in the area where he worked: the Bolo depot. His door opened up to the immense machine below. The highest of its three 200 cm Hellbore cannons, the middle one, was right across from him as he stood in the door and looked down on it for the last time. He had one big bag on his back with all his clothes (even the rarely worn coveralls) and extra pairs of boots in it. He also had a smaller bag with his computer and personal effects, which was really just a few extra pairs of glasses, a few pictures of Lyle he'd brought with him, and Lyle's ancient 1914-issue expedition commander's uniform coat, which he often slept in when he got cold. This was the last time he would probably ever see the huge Bolo again, and to his surprise, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

Milo now knew more about Bolos than he had ever wanted to in his life. He would've been entirely fine if he'd never seen one in person his entire life. But that was not to be. He'd been recruited for an AI programming job for the military. It had sounded, to him and Lyle, like he was going to be programming a building AI or a laboratory assistant. They conveniently left out of the description what the job really was: the AI for a new kind of 'super-Bolo' that could double as a sort of mobile base for a small crew to live onboard. They had many purposes in mind that the unit could be used for in the war against the 'puppies' as the Melconians were often called. Milo had wanted no part of it, as he hated wars and violence. He hated seeing so many innocent people killed either by the fighting or its aftermath. But given that he now knew about the project's existence, he was forced to become a part of the thing he hated so much.

It wasn't all bad for him, though. Once he arrived here there was no need for secrecy, everyone knew the secret already. So, he was welcomed in just like any other new recruit. And everyone had been decent to him, treating him like he really was one of them. Although he had no need of one, he'd still received a callsign/nickname from the mechanics and engineers, something he was told was a sign of respect among military people. And that callsign was often used as a friendly greeting to him.

"Morning, Spock." David Poole, the head Bolo engineer called from atop the Bolo's deck when he heard the door close, "Today's the day?" He added when he saw Milo's bags.

"Yeah. Finally getting outta this place." Milo said, then winced. He hadn't meant to sound so excited; he liked Dr. Poole, having worked closely with him on the Bolo, Poole showing Milo the engineering that went into the monstrous machine so he could understand how he needed to program various functions for the AI. Despite the thing being a giant weapon, Milo couldn't deny it was fascinating from a scientific standpoint. This particular unit was a marvel of engineering, from the more powerful engines that drove it to the full life support systems (even onboard water recycling) that supported its crew (maximum of ten, typically six or seven). And Poole was a friendly, patient man who Milo (and anyone, really) found easy to get along with.

"Sure you want to leave? We wouldn't mind if you stayed a little longer." He said as Milo took the stairs down to a lower walkway, then stepped onto the deck to join Poole. Milo couldn't help a grin as he said what he knew Poole was expecting him to say.

"I'm sorry Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that." Sure enough, the man's face split into a big smile at the old movie line. It had been a sort of inside joke between the two, that Milo was like a human version of the Hal 9000 from the old film 2001: A Space Odyssey. Of course, Milo had never told Poole his first time seeing the movie was the first time it came out in theaters originally (Lyle's treat, an anniversary gift). As far as anyone here knew, Milo was 32 years old. Not pushing two thousand years old, as he actually was.

"We really are gonna miss you, Spock." The engineer said as he shook Milo's hand, "I know it's not a job you cared for, but it was a pleasure to work with you, and you did a damn good job......Hell, come on with me, I'll get you your last morning coffee here. No buts, I insist. You drink straight black, am I right?"

"As always. And thanks." Milo said, following Poole. Both men stopped to look back at the Bolo, its designation, 'XXXIII/R-1914-ERS', stenciled onto the hull, and there was space beside that where the Dinochrome Brigade logo could be added when the thing was officially commissioned into service. But the designation was put on early, and everyone, Milo included, enjoyed a laugh at the higher-ups thinking they all needed help identifying the only Bolo on the base.

"Think that one'll miss you, too." Poole said softly.

"Nah.....It's a machine, not a human." Milo said, his voice suddenly devoid of any emotion, sounding coldly logical, very much like his callsign, more like a machine than even the Hal 9000 he'd referenced earlier. Having worked with Milo enough, Poole noted his wording and caught the hidden meaning there. The man was a linguist, he knew how to manipulate words to say what they wanted to hear while still getting his own very different message across. He knew this was Milo's way of regurgitating what he was told by higher-ups without contradicting his own beliefs. So he merely nodded to Milo, then both turned around and continued on to the dining hall.

""""""""

Milo returned to the depot later that evening to wait for the commanding officers so he could relinquish command of the Bolo to them. He was its current commander, for the sake of making his job a little easier, and for security purposes. He had been waiting for this day for months now, as he'd worked pretty much nonstop. Yet, now that the time was almost here, Milo felt a sort of reluctance to let his creation go. This was not something new, he'd known it was possible. All the works he'd studied in the field of high-end, advanced AI; Chandra, Bradley, even Major Stavrakas, as well as various works by Rovarian scientists and researchers, all of them had warned of an almost parental connection between such an AI and its creator. Milo had tried to distance himself from the thing in preparation, but found it was unavoidable, due to both the nature of what he was creating and the kind of person he was. He liked connections. He didn't like distance and isolation, and he couldn't make himself do it. So here he stood, atop a machine whose purpose he opposed, but that he felt a connection with. He sighed and sat down on the deck, reaching for his computer. He might as well go ahead and disconnect the Bolo from his neural implant-

A sound like thunder from outside stopped him. The Bolo depot had been quiet, except for a few mechanics tidying up their stations for daily inspection and some of the combat soldiers chatting with them, all work in there being done for the moment; the Bolo ready to deploy as soon as its crew arrived and took command. A second, louder sound was accompanied by the base alarms going off, screaming that the base was under attack and calling all personnel to battle stations. Except Milo. He was about to try and get someone's attention to figure out where he should go when the wall before him, where his quarters were, erupted in a huge fireball. The sudden tremors from the explosion shook the depot, sending Milo to the ground as the heat rushed over him. He could hear people screaming and shouting-he felt something whiz by his head-and weapons firing. Milo's own scream was added to the frenzy as he looked around and saw the depot in flames-something grazed his arm, but he didn't notice. Shadows moved through the smoke, some running wildly, some moving with purpose, both flashing with weapon fire.

As if this wasn't bad enough for Milo, his vision began to flash between the depot, a subamrine under attack by a monstrous machine, and the flaming train car where his parents had died to save his life when he was just three years old. He fought hard against his flashing vision as another, smaller explosion went off and flying embers singed him. He couldn't stay here, but he could barely see anything now. Disturbingly, he no longer heard human screams, only distorted voices in words he didn't recognize. He got up and half ran, half stumbled along the Bolo's deck, trying to shield himself with his big bag, even as his eyes stung and he coughed on the smoke, his flashing vision further disorienting him. He somehow found his way to the door of the Bolo's cabin. With the Bolo currently offline, he fumbled for his access card to unlock the door, still screaming as he heard more firing, more explosions. He wasn't sure, but he probably screamed for his parents and Lyle a few times during the chaos and during his run. He got the door open enough to slip inside, the bags coming with him, then he shut and relocked it. and stumbled further into the dark interior of the Bolo.

It was quiet inside, almost as if he was now in another world. Of course, he knew he wasn't, the thing was just thick-hulled and sealed well enough it could technically serve as a spacecraft if it had the correct engines. He felt a tremor go through it, a reminder of outside and his still flashing vision. Somehow, he managed to find Lyle's coat and he quickly pulled it out and wrapped it tight around himself as he curled up against his bag and shut his eyes, trying to catch his breath and stop the flashbacks in his vision. He could feel his body shaking, and he felt cuts or burns on his bare arms that, while not severe or life threatening, were bleeding. But he couldn't even make himself move at the moment, instead just trying to slow his breathing and coughing.

It felt like ages before he quieted down some, and he hadn't felt a tremor in a while either. But opening that side door to see if things were clear was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. He needed access to the base cameras, or at least the ones in the depot. However, he didn't have security clearance. He was good, but it wouldstill take him a while to hack his way in.....Suddenly, he remembered another way. Someone who might actually have access (or if not, someone who could hack the system a lot faster than he could). He used the light of his crystal to find his computer, one he'd built himself. It was one of only two like it in existence. The other was, of course, Lyle's. Using the light again, he found the Bolo's console and set the computer on it. His fingers, despite still shaking, somehow found the correct keys as they flew over the keyboard, until the console and its main screen flickered to life.

A voice spoke through his neural implant (also a device of his own creation of which Lyle also had one). It was a female, soft, almost motherly in tone. He hadn't brought her very much online, so she couldn't use any speakers. If the enemy weren't paying attention to the Bolo, he didn't want them to start, and bring her fully online would do exactly that.

<""Milo? Is that you? What is going on? And why am I barely online?"">

"I need your help, Eris." Milo said, using the Bolo's cognomen, as everyone who worked with her did, "Th-The base....i-it's been attacked. The enemy d-don't know I'm in h-here. B-But I n-need the b-b-base c-cameras.....least the d-d-dep-pot ones." He started to shake again, recalling the events still so fresh in his mind.

 <"I am getting them.....I have base sensors.....I am not detecting any human lifesigns except yours, Milo.">

"Wh-What? N-None? At all?"

 <"There are lifesigns, but I am unable to identify them. There are no human lifesigns anywhere. Except yours.">

Milo leaned on the console, taking that in as the camera images came up and Eris slowly cycled through every feed she could get. Every person on the base was now dead. Except him. He looked back to the camera feeds, as image after image showed a different part of the base ruined and in flames.....and the dark forms of the unidentified attackers headed towards the depot.

"Oh, save me." He gasped out.

I am barely online, my only vision being my interior main console optic and whatever base cameras I can find that are still operable. The enemy had ignored me so far. If I were alone, I could easily wait for them to leave. But I am not alone.

My own console camera shows the face of my commander, his eyes wide as they dart around at even the slightest sound, and I notice a small cut on his cheek. I can see he is terrified as he tries to think of what to do. He is not a soldier, not really. So fighting his way out is not an option. But he cannot stay here, the enemy could just wait until he either gets desperate and comes out to find food and water, where they will kill him on sight, or he dies of thirst. Neither of which is a favorable outcome. My commander, Milo Thatch-Rourke, is now the only person who has actually seen the attack happen. That information will be crucial to the investigation into what happened here.

But more importantly, he is my creator and my commander. As his Bolo, it is part of my duty to protect him, to keep him safe. In about .025 seconds, I know the best course of action. But I will need Milo's help first.

<"We cannot stay here, Milo. YOU cannot stay here. We need to leave."> Eris spoke again.

"How?" Milo asked, "If I go out there, I'm dead before I can blink. There's no way I could-"

<"If you bring me fully online, I can get us out."> Eris cut him off.

"WHAT!? But they're ignoring you now. If I do that....well, no one ignores a Bolo."

<"I have analyzed the forces within the base here. They are ground forces with no artillery and only handheld weaponry. They cannot hope to fight me, nor can they keep up with me. They may not even challenge me, knowing that to do so would be suicide.">

When he didn't respond, she added, <"Unless you have another idea.">

Milo shook his head. He could barely think enough to realize she was right. And unlike him, she had clearly thought this through already.

"No....You're right. Just......as soon as you can.....floor it. Get us the hell out of here." His fingers flew across the keys again as he spoke.

"Yes Commander." Eris used the speakers as they came online. While not loud, Milo could hear other systems powering up as the immense Bolo came to life. The screen display switched from the base cameras to Eris' own, and Milo could see the depot doors already sliding open as best they could. She must've opened them through the remains of the base system once he okayed her suggestion. Then a low hum started up, and as he watched the view on the screen start to move, he realized it was the sound of the Bolo's powerful engines starting up and moving them forward. Through the audio he could hear her enormous treads crunching debris beneath them. He noticed the invaders entering the depot stop in surprise, then start running toward them as Eris crossed the threshold of the depot. But a few rounds of her anti-personnel guns were enough to end their plans of pursuit, as she was already picking up speed, barreling toward the perimeter fence like a charging bull. Milo quickly jumped into the crash couch and held on as he watched the screens. He sucked in a breath as Eris seemed oblivious to the tall barrier that encircled the entire complex, hiding it from view of anyone on the ground outside.

"Eris, watch out! We're gonna-" He cut himself off as he saw the meter-thick metal fence topple over like it was made of tinfoil, the rest on either side bent outward away from the base as they crashed through it.

".....nevermind." He looked at the rear view behind them. Someone tried to follow with some kind of ground transport, but they were quickly lost in the clouds of dust and sand Eris threw up as she raced out into the surrounding plains, headed for the rocky hills that surrounded the place.

Now that he was out of danger, and had finally stopped shaking (or nearly stopped) he started to look himself over. To his relief, he had nothing more than superficial cuts and some small burns. He looked worse than he actually was. He took another look at the rear view and saw smoke billowing into the darkening sky, the base engulfed in bright flames licking toward the sky, their glow turning the surrounding sands the color of blood. It was like a glimpse of Hell in the otherwise dark valley. Milo shuddered and tears stung his eyes as he pulled Lyle's coat tighter around himself and curled up as small as he could on the crash couch, his face hidden beneath the coat.

It takes me a few seconds to realize Milo has fallen asleep as his breathing has slowed and evened out. I am relieved to see this. Even with the limited data available to me, I can tell he was in a state of shock form the attack. I watched him carefully from the moment I came online. He did not even see to his wounds, but perhaps he realizes they are not severe and has decided it is more important that he rest. I agree with that thought, as he has clearly been through a lot. And I can tell from reading his expression, there is more going on than just the attack, but I do not know what.

Milo has not spoken much about his past-or much of anything about himself-to me ever. It is, I assume, an attempt to avoid 'getting too attached' as humans say, to me when he knew he would not remain my commander and that we would likely never meet again after he left. But it has not been very successful, he and I have formed a connection with each other, and I am concerned for him. I wish to know what was happening with him, but I file the questions away for later, perhaps when he is awake. For now, I will let him rest. We are in no danger, and I already know where I am going. I choose my path carefully as I climb into the hills. I have done this before, yet this time feels.....different. More final. I find the place I am looking for easily, a flat area with an excellent view of the base below. I am unable to fully hide, but here at least, my shape is obscured from view to anyone down there. It is a safe place to park and let my commander rest while also being able to monitor the site that was once our base. We will be able to make plans for where to go once he wakes up. Until then, I am a silent guardian, a watcher in the dark.

********

Milo woke up stiff from the way he'd been sleeping, and it took a moment to realize he wasn't in his bed.....or even his quarters. And this wasn't a ship like he'd come here on. He spied the designation in the lower left corner of the main screen in front of him: 'Unit XXXIII/R-1914-ERS'.

The Bolo. He was inside the Bolo. But why? He got his answer when he actually looked at the screen and saw the burned ruin in the valley below, the light of dawn just starting to creep into the valley. And just like that, the night before hit him and he slumped back on the couch.

"Milo? Are you alright?" Eris' voice was softer, not wanting to startle him.

"Yeah.....No......I-I don't know. I don't even know what to do now. You clearly had more of a plan than me. I'm only even alive because I hid inside you. I don't know anything about this planet except what's inside the base perimeter."

"Neither do I. I have never been beyond the fence, and I am not linked to the data sharing network other Bolos use. In fact I still have many restrictions programmed into me that I assume were meant to help conceal my existence until deployment......I find them quite irritating."

"Well, since I have no idea what I'm doing out here, I'm gonna remove all of those, okay? I think I'd feel safer with you fully functioning. Maybe one of your restricted functions can help my situation." He set up his computer again and started typing and clicking.

"Milo, you don't have the clearance for all of them. You are a good programmer, but you can't get access now."

"Wanna bet?" Milo said, now laserfocused on his task, "I'm also a good hacker. And since base staff are unable to give me access, I'll just have to give it to myself." His fingers flew even as he talked. It seemed almost too easy, until he remembered there was no one alive trying to stop him. Thankfully, his stomach chose that moment to growl and distract him before he could linger on that thought and spiral.

He got up and started searching through the storage areas. The Bolo was designed to house its crew for extended amounts of time, so he knew there were food storage areas on board. But he quickly ran into his next problem. They had not been stocked yet. Of course, they probably wouldn't be until the Bolo was in transit to be deployed. It made sense logistically, but did not help Milo at all. He checked and found there was no drinking water on board either.

"Okay Eris, now I have....sort of a plan," Milo said, "We go back to the base, and see if there's any salvageable food and water there. Unlike you, I don't come with an on board power source."

"And I will see if there are any systems I might still be able to collect data from." She replied even as Milo heard the low hum of her drive engine starting up, and the screen showed her starting to move.

Chapter Text

When they arrived, Milo climbed down a set of ladder rungs built into the side armor over the huge treads. They agreed Eris would wait 'outside' the building, for obvious reasons. But also, Milo was hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone survived and was hidden under the debris. He knew the chance of that was almost nothing, but he still hoped. And if they were there, he didn't want to risk them surviving the attack only to be crushed by over 32,000 tons of Bolo.

<"Don't use the speakers, just in case anyone is watching us. We'll use my neural implant."> Milo didn't actually speak; rather, he thought his message out. The implant then translated it into data, which was then transmitted to Eris. It was, essentially, artificial telepathy. Milo's own creation that gave him a secure private link to Eris (and, had he been there, Lyle). He could dial the strength of the connection up or down or shut it off with just his thoughts. Because the implant got its energy from his body, he usually kept the connection as low as possible, only turning it up when necessary. Right now, it was set to One, which only allowed two way messages that he received as audio, as if they were talking out loud. If, say, he wanted to transmit an image, he would have to turn it up to Two. Three allowed videos, and Four, the highest, was full immersion: he could sort of 'become' Eris, experiencing things as if he was in her body, or she could 'become' him. But this often left him tired when he did it for an extended time, so this feature was rarely used.

At the last rung, he hesitated, looking down. Of course, the rungs didn't go all the way to the ground, they were built mainly so the commander, usually taller and muscular from military combat training, could grab on and haul themselves up the first few until their feet could reach the lowest one. Milo was 5' 8" and while he was well muscled thanks to training with Lyle and the other warriors of Atlantis (until the people of Atlantis barely escaped the destruction of Earth and scattered to a number of Rovarian outposts, where they lived now, hoping to reunite somewhere one day), he was nowhere near the physical condition of the combat soldiers. Thankfully, the drop wasn't as big as he thought, and his boots hit a softer pile of sand. He'd emptied out his bigger bag and now had it slung over his shoulder to carry whatever he found. He turned away from Eris and faced the now-ruined buildings he'd lived in the past couple years. It was eerily quiet as Eris shut off her drive engines. A warm breeze blew through the valley, wrapping around Milo's bare shoulders as if to urge him on, and he was glad he'd left Lyle's coat in Eris' cabin and worn only a gray tank top. It was only morning and the air was already hot, though a thick smoke still hid the sun, so it looked like Milo was walking through fog as he took his first step from sand to debris. The crunch sounded near deafening, though in reality it wasn't.

He didn't even know which part of the base he was searching until Eris told him he was standing in the remains of the depot, where he gathered as much of a complete Bolo mechanic's toolkit as he could. From there, he knew the layout and headed for the hallway that had led from the depot to the rest of the base. He kept watching the area around him, just in case something moved to indicate someone was alive. One hand clutched his crystal nervously, and only the sound of Lyle's heartbeat from it (faint because of distance, but always there) kept him from shaking, though his knuckles were white. He felt so exposed and vulnerable in the quiet, despite knowing Eris was very close by, and could easily warn him of any threat or neutralize it herself.

He had found some of the mechanics' snack stashes, messed up a bit, but still edible. He searched everywhere he thought there might be something, and took any small bits of food or containers of water he found, as well as anything else that might be useful, like medical supplies. He was in what used to be a smaller mess area, when his foot caught on something and sent him sprawling forward with a loud yelp.

<"Milo? Are you alright?"> Of course Eris heard him.

<"Yeah, I just tripped and fell. I-....oh.....oh no."> Milo looked up from his fall and it took him a second or two to register that he was staring into the eye sockets of a human skull.

"Oh gods.......oh my......" He forgot about only using his implant as he started to shake, his breath hitching as he sat up and looked around him. There were more skulls. And other bones. Some still had burnt flesh attached to them. He looked at what he had tripped over and almost screamed. It was a body. He was sitting in what had once been a group of people......a look down revealed he was sitting on someone.

"Oh gods. Oh gods, help me!" His hand came down onto something....He looked down and saw his hand right in a piece of flesh.

Milo actually did scream now, as he jumped up and tried to run, only to trip over the other bones and fall on his back, where he continued trying to scramble away.

<"Milo! What is wrong?"> Eris called in his head, her voice louder and more commanding.

"Bodies!" Milo gasped out, "I'm in bodies! Oh gods, there's so many, holy shit, oh gods oh...."

<"Milo. STOP."> Eris commanded, and he was so surprised by it that he did in fact, stop. Even his shaking stopped.

<"Stop. Breathe. Your heart rate is climbing. You are going to go into shock, and I cannot assist you from here."> Compared to Milo's hysteria, Eris' voice was calm and measured as she gave him instructions.

<"Lay on your back. Put your head on your bag and close your eyes. Put your hands over your stomach and try to slow down your breathing. Now, over the link, list off my technical specs.">

"What? Why?"

<"Do it, Commander. It will help you."> She was a bit more forceful there, and Milo did as she asked without arguing, listing off her mark, model, serial, armament, anything else he could think of, all while trying to slow down the rise and fall beneath his hands that was his breathing. And sure enough, Eris' directions did indeed help. When he finished, he wasn't shaking anymore either.

<"Your vitals look better now. Are you feeling better?"> She asked, and he could hear concern in her voice.

<"Yes...I-I think so.....Thank you."> He replied, remembering to use the implant. He slowly sat back up and looked around.

<"Take another moment to catch your breath if you need to. We do not have a schedule."> Eris' voice was softer again, the urgency gone from it. He nodded and did, then slowly got to his feet.

<"Okay.....I think I can continue now.....Thanks again."> His voice was still shaky, but the sound was so subtle no human would notice it. Eris merely made note of it in case he had another incident.

He carefully stepped around the bodies, though now it was more out of respect than revulsion. Everyone here had been good to him, they'd earned it. He did give then all a small nod of acknowledgment as he passed. Once in the kitchen arean, he took all the non-perishable items he could. He told himself it wasn't stealing, since everyone else was dead, and he actually needed the food. Being the only survivor, he felt they would all want him to have it anyway. As some of the combat soldiers used to say, 'they didn't win as long as there's even one of us still standing'. And while he wasn't an actual soldier, they'd treated him like one. He felt sure he counted as 'one of us still standing.'

He knew there were storage units onboard, so he took as much frozen and refrigerated as he could, too, and took it back to Eris, setting out again with an empty bag. He then repeated the process of gathering food, water, and medical supplies in several other areas (with Eris moving along the outside of the former building, stopping when she was closest to wherever Milo was), though his distress at the amount of bodies he saw was showing on his face, and by the time he got to the final rooms, the emergency storage bunkers, his body was shaking, soft whimpers escaping him. But he was almost done, he had to finish. He just had to keep ahold of himself a bit longer.

Someone had thought of going in here before Milo had. He tried not to look as he took the key card from the charred burned corpse that held it, and quickly stuck the key in his pocket as he entered, using a flashlight from the tools he'd taken earlier. Quick as he could, he cleaned them out. The emergency supply was all non-perishable, so he took it all, not knowing how long he would be on the planet. He was thankful the task was done. The horror of the carnage was getting to him. He was shaking and tears stung his eyes. He looked down at the key, trying to decide if it could be useful to him. Then he saw the metal tag attached to it. And the name on the tag.

Dr. David Poole
Chief Bolo Engineer
Project Eris

Now Milo felt the dam breaking. He shoved the key into his pocket, making a desperate run for Eris, tears already sliding down his face as he managed to jump over or skirt around more bodies.

He managed to make it back into Eris' cabin, drop his bag, and take a few more steps before his legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor screaming and sobbing. The floodgates burst open as Milo just sat there on his knees hugging himself screaming and crying.

"Milo?" Eris said, voice soft, like it had been the night before.

"You should've stayed." He replied, "You should've stayed and fought! You could've saved at least someone!"

"I did save someone. I saved you." Eris pointed out.

"You could've saved someone important! Someone who mattered! Who actually wanted to be a part of this war effort! I never wanted to even be here! And now I've gone and made......Why didn't you stop them sooner!? You're a fucking KILLING MACHINE!! WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL THOSE GUYS!!!" In his current state, he didn't even think about if his words hurt her. There may even have been a part of him that wanted to hurt her.

"I failed anyway. I made a killing machine that can't even fucking KILL, dammit!"

"Milo-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!! THEY'RE ALL DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!!!!" Milo screeched before he folded back into himself, doubled over, not even noticing when Eris started to move.

I do not know what to do for this. My commander is inconsolable on the floor, and the things he has said, even those I know to be wrong.....I am finding that I am wounded by them. Logically, it makes no sense. Nothing has hit me, and I do not have any damage. Yet I feel what can best be described as pain at the words I hear him direct at me. It is not alarming, I am programmed to have emotions and the responses that go with them. But it is confusing. I have never dealt with a distraught human before. He tells me to 'shut up' and, seeing no better option, I do so. But I am worried for him. While I have a more complete medical suite than the standard Bolo, I am still unable to actually provide medical assistance if Milo should need it. I am remaining calm, as any Bolo would, but this is the closest I believe I have ever come to panic. It is desperation, because my knowledge of humans and their needs, while vast, is also limited to those I shared the base with. I search through all my options, but I have never encountered anything like this on base before. The only option I find that I am physically able to take is to leave the scene. And so, with my commander still a mess, I turn from our former home for the last time.

I do not know how to meet his current emotional needs, but I can at least see to his basic needs.

By the time Milo calmed down again, the ruined base, now a gravesite, was little more than a cloud of dust in the rear view on one of Eris' side screens. He looked up sadly when she tried speaking again.

"Milo?" Her voice was soft and calm, yet cautious. And he knew why. The last time she spoke to him, trying to help even though her ability to do so was limited, he'd lashed out at her. Screamed at her, yelled at her, HIT her (technically, slamming a fist on the floor of a Bolo wasn't hitting, but inside, in his conscience, it felt like he hit her. It felt just as wrong, anyway.)

"I'm sorry," He said softly as he got up and went over to the couch, where he could look at her optic properly, the closest thing to looking her in the eye. When she said nothing he went on.

"I....I said some.....horrible things earlier. Things that...that I'm sure hurt you, and that were incorrect. I was sad and scared, upset and angry, and.....and I took it out on you."

"Milo-" She paused when he shook his head and held up a finger.

"That was wrong of me, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that, any of that. You couldn't help when I brought you online. And at that close a range, you might actually have hurt more people than you helped if you tried to fight.......I guess what I'm saying is that you thought the situation through. I didn't, and I blamed you for things that weren't your fault. That wasn't fair to you. And I...I didn't mean any of those things I said, and I'm so, so sorry, Eris." His eyes were watery again as he placed his hands on the console. For a moment, he feared she wouldn't answer him, then,

"Do you hate that you created me? Do you hate me?"

"No," Milo said, without hesitation, "I hate what you were created for, and I regret the fact I was a part of it. But no, Eris, I don't hate you, and I don't regret creating you. At all." He gave her a soft smile as a reassurance, then took a cloth from a drawer under the console and cleaned a layer of dust off her optic. "In fact, out of everyone there I could've been stranded on a planet with.....I'm very glad it was you."

"...Thank you, Milo. I needed to hear that." A rare pause at the beginning of her words told him she hadn't expected him to say that. Now he gave her a bigger smile.

"No problem.......Now, since you seem to have a plan, where are we going?"

"The caves, where we tested my small space capabilities." She answered, even as the mouth of the cave came into view, "Major Carter found this place when she took me here, while you had that 'stomach bug', as you called it." Eris didn't need light to navigate the tunnels, but she turned some of her exterior lights on for Milo, so he could see. She cut them off when they saw light up ahead.

"We have arrived." Eris said. Milo looked at the main screen. They were stopped in a large room with a natural skylight, the sun not high enough to pour in yet. A waterfall came out of the wall and tumbled down into a pool of the clearest water Milo had ever seen. There were flat rocks around the edges, and a little creek that ran from the pool on to the rest of the caves.

"I realize I have a waterless shower system on board, but given our situation, I decided you might prefer the traditional method. Many humans find it soothing."

Milo was speechless as he realized she had this planned before he'd apologized. Even with how he'd treated her, she still took care of him. Which just showed again how wrong he was. Maybe he needed to rethink exactly how the Bolo/commander dynamic worked. But right now, that water did look very inviting.

He was soon out on the flat rocks, stripped down to nothing but his glasses and crystal pendant, Eris having assured him she was not staring at him. He sat down on the edge, stuck his feet in, and let the rest of him follow. The cool water welcomed him as it rolled over him, and he gave a deep sigh as he felt his whole body automatically relax into it.

"Ohhhhh, gods, I needed this." He sat there for a moment before he made his way over to the waterfall, which felt just like an ordinary shower. He laughed softly, whether because of that realization or just because he felt like laughing, he didn't know or care. The water felt so good running over his face. And when he turned his back to it, it was like a gentle massage on his shoulders and back, which pulled another sigh out of him.

He used his hands and scrubbed the dirt and such from the base and the sweat from his gathering spree out of his hair and off his body, the star tattoo covering his left shoulder coming back to its original boldness. He ran a hand over it, thinking back to before the evacuation of Erath, or more specifically, Atlantis. In fact, with the water and stones and caves, he could almost imagine he was back in Atlantis. Even the enormous Bolo with him was like the Leviathan (though Milo knew the Leviathan could never withstand a single Hellbore shot, from any mark of Bolo). He smiled at the thought and dove under the water, fully immersing himself, his eyes closed as he let himself escape his reality for a moment. For just a moment, he was back home, and everything was okay.

By the time he was through, the sun was shining in through the skylight, so he lay out on the flat rocks to dry off. The cool air from the caves kept the heat pleasant instead of unbearable, and it felt like a warm gentle touch on his bare skin. He could almost fall asleep here.

He did in fact take a small nap. He wanted to savor this little echo of a lost paradise he once called home, knowing they probably wouldn't be back. But soon enough, he got dressed and was soon back inside Eris' cabin and they were on their way. He used the rear view to watch the waterfall and little pool shrinking away behind them, and he held the arrowhead-shaped rock he took from the place in his hand.

"Thank you for that, Eris," He said softly, "It was....almost like I was home."

"On my honor as a unit of the Dinochrome brigade and as your Bolo, I will get you home, Milo." She said.

"I know you will......Thank you." He replied.

On the rear view, the waterfall room disappeared into the dark.

Chapter Text

Lyle Thatch-Rourke (Rourke to everyone but his husband) checked the time again. And again he confirmed the vessel was running late. He gave an irritated sigh. What was the holdup, dammit? He knew it wasn't Milo. Milo would be only too ready to put this military project behind him. Lyle had decided he would take Milo back to Rovaria. That at least was considered a neutral planet. The Melconians wouldn't attack it unless they wanted to be at war with the Concordiat and the Rovarians, and they would have to be incredibly stupid to risk that. The Rovarians were more advanced than the humans.

He shifted his weight yet again, and heard a male voice like his own but a bit lower come over his neural implant.

<"Have you heard anything, Commander?"> Unit XXXI/M-1860-TNY, better known as Tiny, asked. Tiny was one of two Bolos-the only two, in fact, the other being Unit XXXI/A-1337-ABC a.k.a. Alphabet Soup (usually just Soup)-to leave Concordiat service while still in practically brand new condition. The Rovarians had acquired them for 'research purposes', in exchange for material resources. However, no sooner had the Concordiat signed them over than they were granted full Rovarian citizenship under Hal's Law. This meant they couldn't be taken back. In the eyes of the Rovarian government, they were people, not machines.

Rourke knew that Tiny already knew the answer, or at least, he knew enough that he could guess the answer. This was his way of checking in on Rourke without being blatantly obvious that's what he was doing. Before leaving the Concordiat, Tiny had been Rourke's Bolo, as Rourke was an officer in both the Dinochrome Brigade and the Rovarian Starfleet. The two had been through a few battles together before the Rovarian deal was made. Now Tiny didn't require a human commander, but he chose to still have one, as long as it was Rourke. He'd gained a great deal of respect for his commander, especially given the man's unusually long life and amount of battles he'd seen. He was almost like a Bolo himself in that respect (and others) enough that Tiny had started to call him "Little Bolo" to other Bolos. At first Rourke had been offput by the diminutive nickname, until he realized what he'd taken as an insult was in fact the opposite: a show of deep respect for him not just as a Bolo commander, but as a fellow old soldier who had actually seen and lived things they only had data files on. In a sense, he knew their history better than they did, having actually lived it. Rourke could remember moments sitting and waiting for action that he'd spent telling Tiny stories of times and places the Bolo had never seen and, barring some form of time travel, never would. For his part, Rourke had been wary of the machine the first time he'd settled into the crash couch. He'd only grown more wary as field exercises and training had shown him just how powerful the Bolo was……and just how little he was actually needed. But then actual combat had come, he had merged with Tiny, and finally understood the stories of veteran Bolo commanders he'd spoken to, and those of past commander/Bolo teams, like Sanders and Lenny or Merrit and Nike. Tiny wasn't just a vehicle or weapon, Rourke had realized: he was Rourke's partner. They looked out for each other, were there for each other, understood each other in ways no one else (except maybe Milo, in Rourke's caes) quite could. And so, when Tiny became officially and legally a person and was given agency over himself, it was Rourke he turned to for guidance in this new form of existence, where he was fully aware always and where he was now experiencing….emotion, really….outside of battle and didn't know what to do with it. Rourke had been more than happy to help. He'd learned much from Tiny, now he got to return the favor.

<"Nothing yet, Tiny. No sign of the ship, no message……I didn't like this when he first shipped out and I don't like it now."> Rourke answered, maybe a bit more irritated than he meant to sound. But he was shifting his weight and pacing around, his nerves must've been obvious.

<"Soup and I are switching to long range scanning."> Tiny said, <"and the Ulysses is moving into high orbit, where we will combine our scanners with the ship's own long range scanners. That should greatly extend our range in all directions.">

<"I am scanning all communication frequencies, too."> A second voice, not quite as low and slightly…..Milo-like, added. Unlike Tiny, Soup had decided not to have a human commander at all times, although he sometimes asked Rourke to fill the role for him, such as in training exercises. Soup was the older of the two, having been upgraded into his Mark XXXI hull from……either a Mark XXIX or a Mark XXX, Rourke couldn't remember which. Not that it mattered. He was a Mark XXXI now, and like Tiny, was still figuring out his new life, with Rourke's help as well as Tiny's. And it was this shared journey that brought the two Bolos together and, without the constraints of Concordiat service, allowed them to become close friends with each other…..and then more. Rourke had known exactly what each was describing when they asked him about it, for he had felt the same way upon first meeting Milo. It had only taken them weeks to confess love to each other (well, that and some encouragement from Milo, who couldn't resist meeting the two after the deal was made. He'd heard stories about Tiny from Lyle, and of course urged him to go for it), but given how they thought and processed so much faster than humans, it wasn't hugely surprising. At any rate, Rourke was happy for his partner and friend, getting to know the same kind of happiness Rourke did with-

<"Incoming vessel!"> Soup's voice interrupted his thoughts, <"Spec data matches Milo's transport…….something is wrong……there are too few lifesigns onboard.">

"WHAT!?" Rourke cried aloud, then checked himself when he saw a few heads turn toward him.

<"WHAT!?"> He exclaimed through the implant this time, <"Are you saying…..">

<"Yes,"> Soup confirmed, <"Milo is not on that ship.">

<"Oh gods……">

<"Commander, there are many reasons that could be."> Tiny jumped in, <"He may be needed to stay longer. Or perhaps the ship was not able to make it there. It is quite possible the vessel could have been forced to return here, and had to take a detour. That would account for its tardiness.">

<"Do you really think that?"> Rourke asked, <"Honestly?">

<"I am a Bolo, sir."> Tiny responded, <"I consider any and all possibilities when faced with a question. For the outcome we desire, the answers I have given have the highest probability of being true……I will admit the percentage of certainty is lower than what I can usually give you, but my data on which to base my answers is extremely limited.">

<"I know…….I know….."> Rourke said quietly.

<"Landing in about 10 minutes."> Soup added

<"I…..Thank you. Both of you……Stay listening to me, please. At least one of you. There's an officer approaching me and I want witnesses for whatever they try to feed me."> Rourke said quickly and got a 'Yes sir' from both before he straightened up as if he'd just noticed the approaching officer.

"Mr. Thatch-Rourke?"

"Yes sir…….Mr. Crow." Rourke said, reading the name patch on the uniform. This guy looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, and Rourke couldn't blame him. He was clearly not here with good news.

"Would you…..come to the office please? My CO wants to see you." Rourke nodded and followed him.

The base commander was one Captain O'Neil, and he had a grave expression as Rourke entered his office.

"Captain." Rourke gave a salute to his superior even though he was off duty at the moment.

"At ease, Commander." O'Neil replied, "And you should have a seat." That was never a good thing to hear. Rourke had never been told to sit down before receiving a promotion or any other good news.

"What's going on, sir? I know you didn't call me in here just to chat." Rourke said. He just wanted it overwith.

"No, I didn't, and I apologize in advance, because I…….There's no good way to tell you this. Not as your superior and not as just a man either. But…..it has to be done. Rourke…….the base where Milo was stationed……..it was attacked. Just before his transport was due to arrive…….it arrived to see the whole place in flames……." He spoke slowly, letting his words sink in. Rourke fought to maintain a stoic expression, even though he knew what O'Neil was going to say next.

"…..There was nothing left…….and no survivors…….I'm so sorry, Commander…….I never met him myself, but from what I've heard, he was a good man." Rourke could only nod, as he already wasn't fully hearing the words, only the confirmation.

Milo was dead.

Milo wouldn't be coming back. Not late. Not ever. Rourke could already feel his eyes stinging, tears threatening to spring forth right there. But he knew better than to think he could just fall apart in front of his superiors like that.

"E-excuse me, sir…." Rourke stammered, his voice and hands shaking, already standing up and heading for the door without waiting to be dismissed.

"Of course." O'Neil nodded. Usually he expected more composure, but Rourke was a special case. His communication with his husband had been so limited, and he had no idea where the man even was or what he was doing. And now, on what was supposed to be the end of that, a joyous homecoming and reunion, Rourke instead received news that he needed to start planning a funeral. He hoped the Concordiat would at least award Milo a posthumous medal or some kind of civilian honor. It would never be enough for Rourke, but at least his existence would be acknowledged with respect that way. He shook his head and looked down at his desk.

Rourke fled into the hallway, his body already shaking, as he stumbled toward where he knew there was an exit. He was starting to feel choked up, like he couldn't breathe. He needed out now.

Milo is dead.

The words kept repeating in his head, despite his efforts to deny them, to ignore them, to shove them aside. He instead shoved a few unfortunate young officers aside, but he was so out of it, he didn't even seem to notice. Didn't say a word of apology to them like he normally would. Didn't even hear anything except those three awful, crushing, devastating words in his mind.

Milo is dead.

He was gasping now, his pace faster. He needed out of the building entirely. He needed air, open air. The landing field! He was full on running now, people scrambling to get out of his way, people shouting at him, their words falling on deaf ears, his body on autopilot as he dodged things or jumped over things, never slowing, his lungs screaming, his heart thundering in his chest, like the roaring engines and clattering treads of a charging Bolo, and yet it still was not enough to drown out those horrible words.

Milo is dead.

"AAAAAAAGH!!!!" Rourke screamed as he burst onto the landing field. He paid no mind to the transport landing, just shrieking at the skies as his tears flowed freely and his legs gave out under him, sending him to his knees, his anguished cries drowning out everything in his ears. He didn't care anymore, the one thing he cared for, the thing he fought for, that he nearly died several times in his life for, was gone.

He didn't notice that Crow had returned until the man touched his shoulder.

"Um……I-I'm sorry, sir. But…..Captain O'Neil told me to come find you……He says the transport pilot brought something that you need to see…….said it's urgent." Rourke seriously doubted it, but he knew better than to force O'Neil to order him. Off-duty or not, the man was still a superior officer, and thus owed the respect due to that position. He took a moment to gather himself and stood to follow Crow back to the office.

"When you're finished with the captain, sir, someone calling themselves Tiny sent us a message asking if you were okay. I guess they've been trying to reach you." Rourke's eyebrows went up. He hadn't even heard! Or…..maybe he had, but Tiny's voice had been lost in the cacophony of other voices and sounds that his sudden grief had brought on.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, I'll do that." He said before he stepped back into the office.

"Ah, there you are, Commander. Come here. The pilot of Milo's transport was just showing me his view of the site." He gestured to a screen on one wall, where an image was displayed. It showed an unrecognizable……something entirely engulfed in flames, a thick column of smoke rising out of the frame. It was like the Gateway to Hell in the midst of an otherwise inky black landscape. He gasped as he walked up to look at it closer. Now he could see impact craters near the flames. He realized this had been a good size base. To see it now made him realize that all of those people were now dead. Hundreds of families who would soon share his grief if they didn't already……A section of the base's outer perimeter fence caught his eye. Unlike the rest of the fence, which was bent in places, but still standing, this section of it was knocked outward, as if something had rammed into it and bowled it over.

"Hey, what's this?" He asked, pointing to it.

"That is what I called you in here to show you." O'Neil said, zooming in and adjusting the lighting. Now Rourke could see the immense tracks leading right through the downed fence. There was only one thing that could do something like that.

"Those are Bolo tracks…….There was a Bolo there." Rourke observed. "Hey, it's not Tiny or Soup, they're-"

"We know." O'Neil cut him off, "It's a Mark XXXIII anyway. Now, I don't know much about it other than it was supposed to be offline at the time this happened."

"Obviously, it wasn't." Rourke commented impatiently. He didn't see what this had to do with him.

"Obviously. Now, from what I know, there are only two people who could've brought that Bolo online: its assigned commander and its programmer. And since its commander was not yet on site, that just leaves the programmer."

"With all due respect, Captain……why did I need to see this?" Rourke asked. O'Neil looked him square in the eyes as he answered.

"Because that Bolo's programmer was Milo."

Rourke didn't even try to stop his jaw from dropping.

"Wh-Are you….Are you saying….."

"Yes, Rourke. I spoke too soon earlier. Clearly, Milo is very much alive."

Rourke dropped into a chair for the second time.

"Commander?" O'Neil raised an eyebrow, a look of concern on his face.

"Sorry sir, I just…….this is a shock. A huge shock. A welcome shock, but a huge one. But……thank you. Really." Rourke gave him a smile. "So now what?"

"Now, the bad news: I have only limited clearance on this matter." O'Neil said, "I don't know the location of the base or even the name of the base commander there. I only know about the Bolo because the pilot told me off the record-he was not supposed to tell me anything or show me that image. But…….he said he remembered Milo and how he talked about you before he was put into stasis. He risked his whole career-just as I am risking mine right now-because he wanted you to know your husband is alive…….and so do I." The captain's voice grew softer toward the end, "I may be a superior officer to you. But I also know there's times when it's best to shed my rank and decide things as a man. That's what I'm doing here, Rourke…….but I'll pick that rank back up so I can order you to make sure this doesn't get out. Got it? If anyone asks, this meeting never happened. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Rourke said, still in a shocked daze.

"Good. And-off the record-because I know you, just make sure whoever you talk to on the Rovarian side knows to keep this quiet." O'Neil added, with a slight knowing glint in his eye.

"Will do. And…….thank you, sir. So much." Rourke saluted, then left when he was dismissed. He needed air again, but it wasn't so urgent this time. As he walked, he remembered what Crow said about being asked if he was okay. He allowed himself an amused grin, imagining Tiny's and Soup's turrets preparing to fire warning shots as he opened the link again.

<"Tiny…….did I hear him right?">

<"Yes Commander. Though if you had answered me, you would have known much sooner. I was trying to contact you to tell you to check your crystal."> It was all Rourke could do not to smack himself. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that? He grabbed his crystal pendant and sure enough, there was the faint pulse of Milo's heartbeat.

<"Damn. I'm sorry Tiny.">

<"You were in shock. Given……what I now know of such bonds, it is not surprising that you became unreachable. Were I human and in the same position, I might have had the same reaction. I am glad to hear Milo is alive.">

<"But where is he?"> Soup asked, <"And how do we know he is alright? Do we know how old that image is?"> Rourke tried not to let his thoughts show disappointment at that.

<"Soupy, dear, we are Bolos."> Tiny scoffed, <"Bolos who now have freedoms the Navy denied us for a reason and access to some of the best hackers ever known…….I believe it is time we start taking advantage of that fact. I am sure we can all agree the Concordiat is not going to make one missing civilian man on a remote planet whose existence is publicly denied a high priority. If anything, they will be concerned about the Bolo, not Milo.">

<"What are you saying?"> Soup asked, and Rourke swore that if he'd been able, Tiny would've been wearing a mischievous grin as he answered.

<"I am saying that if we want to find Milo as quickly as possible and bring him home as safely and quickly as possible, we will have to operate outside of protocol. We cannot rely on the Concordiat Navy. We will have to do this ourselves.">

Rourke found himself wearing the grin Tiny couldn't. The fire was lit inside him. He would bring Milo home, with or without the Navy's help. After all, very few obstacles could stand against a Bolo. And fortunately for Rourke, he had two Bolos.

We're coming to find you, Mi. He thought to the wind.

We're coming to find you and bring you home safe.