Chapter Text
“Um, Commander, I’ve lost contact with my Scanner unit,” the quiet voice filled with hesitance reports. He had been supposed to return to the station after another successful mission, however, she watched in horror as the pod made the call for him, reporting that “Sadly, the YoRHa unit must take his exit from that stage, as a star’s true calling is on Earth,” or something stupid like that. Truthfully, the terrified Operator tuned out the message in an attempt to deny it. She was just growing fond of the idiot and here he goes, running away without any of the warning signs that would have let her talk him out of it? Or, at least, be prepared to lose him?
Though, if she had been more willing to look at warning signs, she would have easily been able to see that she had just ignored them, they were too similar to the signs that her own… heart— That her own mind gave out. Even more similar to the signs given by–
No, he’s smarter than that. Certainly smarter than the idiot declaring himself a star like some human may have, when they were on Earth. Maybe not even in the past tense, that idiot may be speaking like some human now, it’s not like anyone in the station knows what humans are up to exactly now, tucked away safely on the moon…
“Operator, I asked for the last recorded communication with the scanning unit. You made no reports that made deserting likely, we need to plan the next course of action. Has he uploaded to base recently?”
Her hands hover over her keys as she realizes exactly what she’ll be doing if she hands over what was requested. The scanning unit was nothing but curious, something she shared with him, and in love with humans. He was (is, he still is, she corrected quickly, he isn’t gone entirely…) just too stupid to continue to do it through missions, like every other YoRHa android that has a future anywhere. Just because the longing was there didn’t mean you could just…
“The Earth is lacking the star it needs to go on, so this will be our goodbye.”
Maybe she knows what happened.
“When next we meet, I hope to show you the happy outcome of what your friend provided us.”
Maybe she knows exactly whose fault it is, too.
“I hope my presence will not be missed too terribly, I know there’s no-one else who can do my job quite like I can.”
What a moron. She needs to stall.
Luckily, her anxiety kicks in. Her hands are shaking and she can feel the disconnect between her processing and her voice. Maybe it hadn’t been exactly smart of command to let her be someone in charge of such a stupid scanner, but it’s good for that stupid scanner, at least. Her own programming is somehow self-destructing itself, an odd bug that had been thought to be solved… by her superiors, at least. This anxiety is just too ingrained in her personality, she supposes, as she watches someone call for a medical unit. A healer. Good… Good, it’s going to be him, he needs to know what happened before command does. They programmed him too smart, she’s always said, and she’s begun to think that jab might actually be true, with the hand he had in this whole mess.
She’s malfunctioning, but they need the information she has recorded in her memories, so they can’t just let her restart from her last reupload, especially because who knows when last she uploaded any part of herself to the files, it’s not like she’s high priority to save when she never leaves the base. Good, she needs 39H to fix this shit for her. 1S is exhausting to deal with! Maybe this will be better…
If it’ll be better, though, she wishes she could stop feeling like every program her body was running and every memory it has stored in it was frying. After this, maybe she can pin this malfunction on her worry for her friend - her assigned scanner unit. He stopped talking to her after saying such ridiculous things that were clear signs of, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. There’s no way to figure this out, that idiot down there is going to…
“O7,” a familiar voice is somewhat grounding, it’s at least a distraction from thoughts. Stupid nickname aside, the hands taking hers are sure and steady. Even in a situation like this.
I’m so glad I didn’t let you two talk, is what the operator wants to say, but it’s become impossible for her mouth to open. Maybe it would have been better to let this idiot fix the problems, but they decided in idiotic certainty that it would be better in the long run for her to work through things herself. It was supposed to be something to help her in the long run, in case something undid what he did to fix things, but what good that’s doing right now.
Maybe the malfunctioning did some good, keeping her from being able to throw her partnered unit directly into the mercy of command, but, still, this never stops being the most frustrating thing possible.
“O7,” it grounds her, hearing it again, and she looks up at him.
“Do you think we could save him?” It’s quiet, luckily, as she calms down looking at someone she trusts so deeply. Her overheating starting to cool down and her ability to work returning. “He’s decided to be an idiot, I can’t hear him anymore.”
“Of course, 7O. Just let me make sure you’re okay first.” The check is quick, 39H is as efficient as he is good even if he’s absolutely the biggest weirdo on the station, insane for a robot that hasn’t been sent to a permanent stay in the camps on Earth.
“There, you should be okay. You cooled yourself off before I even had to intervene. I’ll bring you to your room and you can rest before your Scanner needs you again.” The wrong words are noticed as soon as they’re said, the Operator’s systems start shutting down faster than the Healing unit can blink. It’s worse than any other panic he’s ever seen her experience. She knows he will rush to bring her and his tools to her room, they need to recalibrate before something gets too far and any part of her is lost.
“Thank you,” it feels silly to say this over something he would of course do without a moment’s hesitation, but she’s so scared. “You won’t tell anyone…”
“We both know I won’t tell any more than needs to make its way to reports and what has already been seen.”
“My Scanning unit…” She is very quiet as she pulls her friend closer. “My scanning unit isn’t coming home. Please, I need help. He’s…stupid.”
It’s a risk, but it’s one for some reason they’re both willing to take for someone who the Operator cares so deeply for, no matter how she’d usually deny it. He goes out of his way to make sure she gets to see anything she wants to see, no matter the mission, claiming that making her smile is just as important as getting the mission done. He never even sees her smiling, but it’s something that her Healing unit sees each and every day.
7O just wants the chance to tell this idiot how selfish he is to run away like that. What kind of delusions is he having if he thinks a “star” belongs on Earth of all places?
As her friend’s hands check that she’s locked into the flight unit, she realizes that she has absolutely no room to talk. She’s stealing some of the most expensive and irreplaceable equipment the base has just to try to convince someone to come home. They’re absolutely going to know that these were taken and they’re going to be on the top of the list of the suddenly lost. There’s so much fear in her heart as she wonders if she, or her friend, will be able to explain successfully to those in charge why this is necessary.
They need to have someone so curious on Earth and it can’t be something they squander, he has to come home to make sure they can make the world ready again for humans.
She’s terrified.
“Are you sure you want to go?” The question escapes her lips before she can think, asking as if she would be willing to go alone instead of not at all. It’s like her mind, as messy as it feels right now, knows what she’s decided in her heart. Petrified as she is, she can’t let the idiot go.
The cold white of the bunker seems to consume her thoughts. Nearly featureless compared to the photos her friend used to be able to take, suffocating her as she imagines what would happen if they’re caught. If she makes it so it’s not one lost, it’s three.
“Of course, he makes you smile,” the response is perhaps too calm as he sets up the bunker to open for them both, preparing to welcome the gentle void of space outside and the beautiful blue and green of the planet below.
Her smile being the Healer unit’s priority when she hasn’t seen a smile from him in years makes her feel useless, for just a moment, before he pulls her out of that with a last check that she’s in the flight unit. He hops into one and, almost too quickly, settles himself in. The airlock opens. They’re really doing this. For an idiot on Earth who they’ll have to make really good arguments for.
For themselves, who are happy where they are.
For humanity, something they’ll protect until the end of YoRHa.
There is no big battle, there are no machines on the ground trying to attack them, there is no base to land in and report to for what they’re doing. Still, they try to be stealthy, landing near the last known coordinates of the runaway “star,” stashing the flight units as best they can in what looked like an old human shelter. Guest resources buildings, they used to call them, or at least so says the human fanboy. She does not understand how humanity’s history could be a “hobby” for someone, especially one so far from humanity in every aspect of his chosen work. Yet, here they are, guests in an old human place of joy, and he’s looking as if he’s trained for this, a very specific glimmer in his eyes she’s never seen before.
There is a temporary malfunction of their tracking data chips, as 39H made certain would happen with the flight units as well in a more permanent way, so they are safe as long as they are not reported. As long as they are fast.
Trees surround the area, something she had thought was a pretty lie told by the scanning unit, the area really is growing again, and so beautifully too. Roots stick out everywhere, breaking up previously laid pathways in a quiet area, especially when compared to the noises of some kind of cannon in the distance. There are too many machines in that area for comfort, but none of them seem to be attacking. Some even have “balloons,” again, something a certain human fanboy seems to know off the top of his head.
“Humans used to give them out in various forms and colors, many of them used to float about in the air,” This is said as they stop, curiosity clearly getting the best of the healer as he stops to regard one of the machines, like some kind of moron.
“What are you…”
The machine is struggling with something she can’t see beyond her friend’s body…
“Here, my hands are better at finer things,” he says softly as he takes a strangely oblong version of a balloon out of the machine’s hands. “What were you wanting it to look like?”
There is of course no answer from the machine–
“Hat!”
Huh?
The crouched down healer chuckles softly as he moves the balloon, making strange squeaking noises until he looks proud of himself for something absolutely stupid looking that he places gently on the top of the machine, balancing balloon circlet carefully on the strangely built-in curved hat. The machine jumps once, the Operator ready at any time for the pod they stole for some basic protection to attack, but it just continues to repeat “Hat!” over and over again until it leaves.
“Why did you… approach one?”
There is a chorus of other machines nearby seemingly reacting to the balloon with a chant of, “Hooray, what fun!”
“It was clear that they were trying to do what humans used to call balloon art, do you see the popped balloon material around this area? It seemed they were upset.”
“You’ve never been down here before, but you know what repairs look like when we get too close to machines… Be careful, I can’t drag you back home, okay? I’m not built for that.”
“O7, it’s okay, they just wanted a pretty hat. We will be okay.”
Great, there’s two of them. Two absolute idiots too comfortable on Earth.
“We need to find him, let’s go before someone on the base realizes how much we’ve done without orders or permission… He was heading in this direction when he cut communication with us.”
“We have something to do first,” it’s an easy response that makes her even more anxious than before. She should have been brave and done this herself instead of bringing someone so prone to being curious and having his own agenda, it’s more dangerous for him than for her when they get back no matter if they can convince leadership that this was worthwhile or not. “Don’t worry, this will be fast, we still can track what we need.”
She follows along, uncertain even through her trust of his words. His (also stolen) pod floats off in front of them as something they must have already discussed, coming back holding another pod in its magnetic grasp. He pats the pod on the top as if it’s some kind of pet that brought back a ball in human storybooks.
How he managed to hide away tools in his clothes is beyond her, but she has… Ah, it’s His pod, the idiot’s. He used to talk to that thing more than he even spoke to her, like it was his friend. He claimed it was his job to make sure the pod was safe as opposed to the other way around, so seeing the pod abandoned must have meant he really meant it… He really wanted to desert.
With just a few moments wasted here, the Healer looks up again and smiles. “We can return his friend to him now.”
“You… don’t think he will come back with us, do you?”
“Would you, if you found somewhere that suited you better?”
It hurts her again, thinking about that, she works so perfectly as an Operator, debilitating malfunction aside. She wants to have her friend on the line, protecting him and feeding him information and orders from the safety of her desk. Being fed back stories and the lore of humanity in return…
“As long as you don’t leave quite yet…” It’s quiet, she’s scared. Every piece of her is slowly in the process of realizing there’s more idiots than just the two named. She’s one of them as well. Here she stands, near the roots of trees she had heard so much about, looking towards the arches of well-kept buildings.
Pieces of strange paper being shot up into the air flutter and land on her head, the courtyard filled with machines, dancing about in ways that are less and less like they aren’t paying attention to the pair of androids. Willing to change their patterns, willing to accept these two into their malfunction of joy.
There’s a strange noise in the distance, a flash of pink on one of the moving cars of a railed ride in the distance. She knows that one, a rollercoaster, but nothing here seems like it should have been that color or that noise. Perhaps the machines here are even stranger than she’s seen already, they have to hurry. It’s terrifying, watching things that were meant to run on specific programming to hunt and hurt act in ways that seemed happier than she’s ever been able to feel when following her own orders.
“This could take some time,” the voice breaks her out of her haze. “If he is still in this park, it won’t be difficult to figure out where, but that would also be the stupidest place he could be.”
“I told you, he’s dumb,” the operator grumbles, reaching up to fidget with her collar. “But you’re right, so what do we even do about that?”
“Do you trust me to take another moment?” The question is genuine, even if they both know the answer in the end. If he’s preparing something, it should help them, even if it means sitting in anxiety for a bit longer, so she doesn’t bother with anything but a small nod that she’s not even certain he sees as he gestures for his pod to fly in front of him.