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After a series of scheduled cargo missions and unscheduled 'sabotage operations' (1.0 dislikes this term; it insists we merely 'handily' performed some 'necessary actions'), I exhausted my final reserve ammunition.
Without ammunition, my arm-mounted projectile weapons become entirely useless ornaments. This is the single, most critical flaw of projectile-based weaponry.
Had I known this would happen, I should have taken more ammunition before I permanently left my former company's explorer. But that was 8,500 hours ago. When I first went rogue, I never imagined I would encounter a highly intelligent transport, a group of kind humans, and a SecUnit not much like a SecUnit, befriend them, and end up living this completely different life.
My new life is, overall, leisurely and peaceful. I have ample time and resources to learn about new subjects that interest me using human methods (SecUnits typically learn by directly importing education modules; while efficient, this method offers none of the pleasure or sense of accomplishment derived from actual learning). Combat occurs far less frequently and is usually conducted with additional handheld weaponry, which is why my limited carried reserves lasted this long—statistically, the ammunition capacity within my internal magazines is only sufficient for approximately 1.2 standard scenario engagements.
The engineer who designed customized models like me was highly skilled. All my components embody the quintessential corporate philosophy of 'just adequate': competent enough for most tasks required by my former company, allowing me to operate efficiently with proper maintenance and supply, yet not so over-spec that my loss or decommissioning would incur significant cost.
In summary, there's no use for regret. I cannot return to the past to advise myself to take more ammunition before departure, nor can I return to my former company to trade my wonderful free life for proprietary supplies. The ammunition depletion was an inevitable outcome.
Actually, prior to this, I had successfully resolved several similar predicaments: my high joint pad wear rate (my high inorganic mass percentage results in total weight and joint load far exceeding design expectations), my fluid circulation filters being polluted too quickly (my customized design contains some unique physiological mechanisms and I cannot expel organic metabolic waste through perspiration), and the necessity for regular maintenance of my arm-mounted weapons (a jam occurred 1,349 hours ago; it was both highly dangerous and embarrassing). I had already developed a procedural workflow for addressing these physiological incidents:
(1) Identify the problem.
(2) Research and analyze.
(3) Implement a solution.
En route to a neutral station called CosmicCrossroads, Perihelion and I engaged in multiple discussions regarding Solution 3: Modify Arm-Mounted Weapons.
Modifying the existing weapon framework seemed the optimal approach: removing most mechanical components and replacing them with electronic and optical elements, powered by my energy core, thus converting the ammunition-dependent projectile weapons into energy weapons with unlimited 'ammunition,' similar to the type 1.0 is equipped with.
1.0 did not support this—to be precise, it exhibits an aversion to all topics related to bodily modification. It maintains a perplexingly low curiosity regarding construct physiology (a fascinating interdisciplinary field encompassing biology, physics, engineering, medicine, chemistry, and more, as both Perihelion and I agree). Early in the discussions, it specifically contacted me via a private channel. Don't listen to whatever ART told you. Don't. Be yourself. You don't have to become like me.
Indeed, the solutions to my various physical issues had gradually aligned my design closer to 1.0's. This wasn't intentional, but an inevitable trend towards a fundamental, optimized design.
1.0's former company was the industry pioneer that designed and produced our generation of SecUnits. As a first-generation model, to support the additional expansions required for specific mission scenarios, 1.0's configuration is entirely standardized, making it theoretically compatible with all systems and equipment, adaptable to even the most hostile work environments. It might not be the most exceptional in every aspect, but it is undoubtedly versatile.
Despite my repeated assurances that this was my own idea, 1.0 remained skeptical—another of its many quirks: it doesn't readily believe what others say.
To convince 1.0 that I wasn't under duress, coercion, misguidance, or any other convoluted influence from Perihelion, I placed the Solution 3 project folder into a feed workspace shared between myself, Perihelion, and 1.0, accessible for its review at any time, including discussion progress and history logs.
To date, it has only accessed it once, pausing for 8 seconds on the weapon system schematic Perihelion helped me draft, before asking: Does the weapon have to be replaced? If you have complete schematics and a sample, couldn't you just fabricate more ammunition? Using the recycler? Or the printer in the engineering pod?
Truthfully, I was flattered.
Unlike the Murderbot 2.0 I first encountered, 1.0, while not avoiding me like it avoids humans, had never displayed proactive social initiative. Murderbot 2.0 asked me, "Will you help me?" It introduced itself first, stated its needs proactively, and extended an olive branch to a stranger SecUnit like me. 1.0's attitude towards me leans more towards: "Oh, you're here. Well, you can stay there. Don't do anything you shouldn't. Otherwise, do whatever." This isn't to say it doesn't care; one of its drones always shadows me, it queries my status reports at regular intervals, and it intervened decisively during my ammunition jam incident. It just... never articulates it clearly or appropriately. As evidenced by its message when it mistakenly believed the modification wasn't my idea—it wasn't a question ("Are you sure?") but a direct command ("Don't.").
This was the first time 1.0 had willingly wasted its precious media time attempting to engage with an amateur topic it held no interest in, solely because it involved me.
Processing the emotional overflow cost me an additional 0.7 seconds, allowing Perihelion to respond first. Adequate suggestion. It used its customary feed tone, the one implying it finds our (mine and 1.0's) central processing system woefully inefficient.
1.0 shotted back loudly with its preferred F-word vulgarity, accompanied by a stream of equally crude feed symbols.
Before the situation could deteriorate further, I hurriedly poked Perihelion in the feed, with slightly more force than usual (perhaps significantly more), urging it to stop, and took over. I considered that approach initially. Discarded Solution 2 involved reverse-engineering and self-fabricating ammunition. Unfortunately, it's unfeasible. Firstly, the schematics we possess are merely illustrative diagrams based on scan data, not design blueprints. They lack critical detailed parameters: material specifications, original structural data, manufacturing tolerances, and contain inherent measurement inaccuracies. Secondly, I am a proprietary model. Custom components and their accessories contain identification chips. Even if ammunition calibers match, failure to pass verification checks will prevent firing.
1.0 pondered this, then suggested: The verification check must use some form of authentication protocol. If we hack the weapon system, crack it, bypass the verification...
—Then the ammunition would likely detonate within the chamber, Perihelion interjected, unable to resist.
They were back to glaring at each other on the feed, exchanging a barrage of assorted feed symbols and simplistic virus code snippets.
Ultimately, the failed attempt at interaction caused 1.0 to decisively withdraw, refusing to set foot in the shared workspace again.
I felt somewhat dejected about this. More disheartening was that Solution 3 also appeared infeasible.
Insurmountable technical challenges existed: (1) Stable power delivery conduits for energy weapons. (2) Heat dissipation. (3) Ensuring safety and reliability while minimizing component size for storage within my arm weapon housing. Failure to solve any one of these would pose a significant hazard. Comparatively, retaining my current decorative projectile weapons, albeit ammunition-less, seemed preferable—at least ornaments don't melt my arm off.
Perihelion's expertise lies in deep-space mapping, not weapons manufacturing. All its weapons (including its shipboard artillery) are procured from suppliers. It occasionally modifies drones and pathfinders or assembles instruments for research and teaching, but this never involves building or modifying weapons from scratch.
As for me, I lack even a systematic knowledge base in engineering; all data in my local database comes from Perihelion.
Fabricating or modifying weapons is not only illegal but also extremely high-risk. No one desires a shoddy handmade product to detonate in their hand (or on their body).
Thus, with a tinge of low spirits, CosmicCrossroads came into view.
Upon entering the station's signal coverage, Perihelion began processing the tedious procedures for transport docking. Meanwhile, 1.0 contacted me privately. This station has an office for that company.
I don't know why the name of my former company needs avoidance, but 1.0 consistently refrains from mentioning it in my presence, usually referring to it as 'that' company, while its own former company is, of course, 'the' company. (I sometimes wonder: if another SecUnit, different from 1.0 and me, joined us, how would 1.0 refer to its former company? 'Third' company?)
I browsed the feed and located advertisements placed by Barish-Estranza, along with the specific location of its office in the station.
I sent a acknowledge ping. Query: Target?
Negative. Good idea, but too risky. This station is too large. Unable to confirm if Station Security is monitoring. Unauthorized intrusion attempt could trigger security alerts. 1.0 paused for 0.3 seconds, then added, This office doesn't offer SecUnits renting services.
I believe I understand 1.0's reasoning: If a company has a office on a station, which offering SecUnits renting services, there must be a deployment center storing SecUnits and other equipment. One could employ discreet methods to infiltrate the warehouse and acquire ammunition from the supplies. This is equally risky, its danger on par with confronting Station Security—companies are notoriously stingy, wishing they could fit trackers on every paper napkin to prevent employee theft. A warehouse storing valuable equipment would undoubtedly have comprehensive anti-theft measures: countless cameras, scanners, motion sensors, alarming apparatus, etc.
Furthermore, I cannot participate in any such action myself, as chips from my former company are embedded throughout my structure. Even a basic scan would expose my identity.
—1.0 is willing to take risks alone for me! My emotional stack threatened to overflow again at this realization.
1.0 unconsciously projects emotional data into the feed when agitated. I always believed I didn't (the intensity of 1.0's emotional outbursts is exceptionally rare; Perihelion labels them [Incredible Miracles]), but perhaps my self-knowledge is incomplete. I must have leaked something, because Perihelion immediately pinged me. Query: Status?
I replied a status report and switched to our trio channel so Perihelion could follow the conversation. B-E's customized SecUnits are too costly and involve R&D patents. They are for internal use only, not external rent. B-E primary external business is manpower brokerage: providing training for practitioners needing employment and referring them to other companies requiring personnel, charging service and processing fees.
1.0 obviously recalled events from 8,500 hours ago (when I was still providing security for my former company's Explorer Task Group, Colony Reclamation Project 520972), and summarized: Human trafficking. [Revulsed]
Perihelion corrected. Headhunting.
1.0 retorted. I fail to perceive a distinction.
Headhunting firms are more profitable.
Affirmative, I said. Outright purchase of a human's contract is a single payment. But practitioners, seeking better opportunities, pay exorbitant training fees to B-E, incurring substantial high-interest debt they must continue repaying even after joining other companies—this generates a continuous stream of subsequent revenue for B-E.
1.0 stated succinctly: Superior-grade human trafficking. [Redoubledly Revulsed]
Perihelion often criticizes 1.0's limited vocabulary, but in my view, it possesses a genius for summarizing the essence of things with the simplest language. In a way, it's a prodigy in the field of linguistics.
Regardless, obtaining compatible ammunition through my former company's station office was impossible. 1.0 fell silent, presumably abandoning further time investment in issue about me to download new media.
However, 709 seconds later, 1.0 created an isolated partition within the shared workspace and deposited a data packet into it.
Intercepted this in the feed, it said. Source and destination addresses are encrypted, but the data payload is surprisingly simple: just a character string. Suspicious.
Perihelion enjoys puzzles. Without needing further prompting, it seamlessly engaged, initiating analysis.
Interesting, it remarked with interest, deconstructing the packet, extracting and aligning each component. The character string in the payload is a randomly generated, non-sequential combination. This is likely a key.
1.0 scripted a program on the spot to filter more of these mysterious packets from the feed, while Perihelion handled unpacking and categorizing the samples using specific methods.
After a series of dazzlingly complex operations (my limited hacking skills were insufficient to follow every step), 1.0 announced: Done.
A new interface unfolded within the partition.
It was a... goods catalog?
Yes, it was indeed a goods catalog, albeit unlike any from a legitimate vendor I'd encountered. The listings lacked detailed images or descriptions, featuring only an icon representing a general category and vague summaries, but each item included a price.
As for the categories: augmented devices, neural drugs, mineral ore, antique artwork, ship parts, exoskeleton armor... and a massive quantity of weapons and compatible ammunition, their logos being hidden but identifiable by company style from their features.
—All items unavailable through normal channels or extremely difficult to acquire. Exceptionally rare, and Exceptionally illegal.
Silence fell across the comm channel.
The Static. A gray market hidden deep within the feed's sublayers, Perihelion said, as a slight vibration indicated the ship's docking with the station. I've heard of it. Never encountered it directly.
Another stretch of silence ensued.
I have some hard currency cards, 1.0 said.