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Chuuya gasps as he’s jerked awake as strong, rough, gloved hands pull at both arms, the barrel of a gun digging into his spine. It’s not an unusual wake-up call, though nonetheless unwelcome. Chuuya can still feel the sparks of pain traveling down his back, the new implant in his skull a bright flashing sign of foreign, pressing in on the surrounding nerves like a siren to war. Chuuya blinks the new spots in his vision away, the slick metal of the facility coming into view, cool blue lights slotted into the walls making the place look underwater.
The guards force him forward, ignoring his weak attempts of digging his heels against the smooth flooring. The clear doors to the lab open without touch, men dressed in blue coats and nylon gloves already preparing the machines that click and beep with the sounds of promised misery.
“Ah, A5158, finally graced us with your presence, have you?” N hums, a syringe prepped in one hand.
Chuuya snarls, fighting with the little strength he has left as the guards push him down against the operating table, restraints automatically fusing themselves to his wrists and ankles, a band coming out as well to secure his head. N dismisses the guards, his technicians working around him in sync with each other, and N makes his way to Chuuya’s bedside as an assistant places an IV in the back of his hand.
Chuuya growls out a, “Don’t.” But it’s weak, the sounds filtering through damaged vocal cords like clipped birds flying through a storm.
N sighs, “Difficult again, A5158?” N strokes Chuuya’s head, his shaved-down hair and metal implants dig into the surrounding flesh, N’s hands pulling at delicate skin and fresh sutures without regard. “It must be such a relief then, that you’ll finally be free of that pesky autonomy today, hm?”
“No-” Chuuya gets out, but the anesthesia is already in his system, wearing down his resolve with purposeful chemical precision. N injects the line with whatever concoction he has brewing, and fire burns in his veins.
“This is it,” N whispers as Chuuya falls once more, for the last time, “This is what I made you for.”
Blackness takes him, and for a long, long, time, it’s all he knows.
‘Alert, fire in the southwest wing. Please evacuate to the upper floors as lower units are disengaged. Please report to your designated stations and wait for command from your assigned supervisors. Alert, fire in the southwest-’
Dazai ignores the computerized woman’s voice blaring overhead as he sprints through the flashing red lights, pistol at his side and Ango’s screaming in his ears.
“Less screaming and more navigating would be appreciated, Ango,” Dazai sings out as he ducks behind a corner as armed men run past, “It’s what you're paid for after all.”
“The only navigating I’m doing for you is to the exits, you suicidal idiot! What the hell were you thinking, setting fire on a spaceship?! Forget the job, if you take the next left you can make it to a shuttle- maker help me, why’d you do it so close to the main engines?! You have maybe twenty-no, ten minutes before the whole damn thing explodes!”
“It’s a good distraction,” Dazai says, turning right up ahead and following his vague memory of the plans of the ship and the location of the goods.
“That’s not left,” Ango growls out, and a map pops up on his glasses, a digital recreation of the ship with a bright red arrow over the room Dazai’s attempting to reach. Dazai whoops, and changes his trajectory to follow the blinking light. A stray crewmate makes the wrong turn and Dazai shoots him dead before he can make a sound. “See? This is what teamwork is all about!”
“This is the last job I take with you.” Ango gripes and Dazai hums like he believes it.
The job was fairly simple for a job backed by Mori: infiltrate, steal, and leave no trace. Blowing the ship up may not have been what he had in mind, but if he didn’t want an artistic touch, he shouldn’t have hired Dazai for the job. As always with Mori, the details are hazy and the merchandise is a mystery, but as long as Mori keeps paying him in Dust he’ll take whatever half-hazard bullshit job he’s got to give, no questions asked.
The ship is military, Central Union shit that Dazai felt disgust for before he even saw its insides. Dazai has been itching to destroy it since they got the specs, a transport ship with high-end tech only the elite of the Center Moons could afford. Their target was in a heavily specialized vault at the south end of the ship, the materials surrounding the safe made indestructible by outside force. Indestructible, unless you know a guy who knows a guy who knows how to hack into Central Union systems.
As Dazai nears the vault, he switches his earplugs on, the noise around him going mute.
Even with the imminent threat of the ship exploding the safe is still highly guarded, ten heavily armed men standing in front of steel doors, loyal to the end. Dazai takes a moment to admire their resolve, bullets heading straight for him, as he pulls out a sonic admitter and blasts it. Bullets go awry with the force, and men are thrown back as the walls reverberate with the sound. Dazai drops the admitter with a whine as the recoil shoots through his body, pulling out his pistol and firing into the bodies spewed on the ground as he curses. Dazai steps over the dead with a whistle, turning his earplugs off.
“-azai, you’re pushing it Dazai, less than five minutes to go, please, tell me you have an exit strategy.” Ango urges Dazai.
“Where’s the trust Ango, have I ever failed you before?” Dazai complains as he places Ango’s decoder on the vault lock. It flashes green, a series of numbers rolling down the screen faster than Dazai’s eyes can keep up with.
“You don’t actually want me to answer that, do you.” Dazai’s makes a hurt sound just as the decoder dings, the thick metal walls caving in on themselves to reveal the room within. Inside is haunting black metal, empty aside from the glass display case in the middle of the room. A solid black box no larger than Dazai’s head sits inside unguarded and his for the taking.
Dazai hums, narrowing his eyes slightly, before he shoots into the black room. Something shouts, and a silhouette rises from the shadows, their suit as dark and metallic as the surrounding walls.
“Hmm, a single tiny box shipped only by itself on a militarized government ship? How mysterious.” Dazai muses as he sidesteps a laser blast.
“Does it matter?” The masked guard snaps, holding their bleeding side, “You’ve already condemned us all to death, you dumb thief.”
“And you still protect it?” Dazai’s grin widens, “It seems so important, yet, you’ve kept it in the bilge of your ship, far away from shuttles if emergency transportation is required. In fact,” Dazai continues as the gunman shoots at him again, wide enough that Dazai doesn’t bother to dodge, the ends of his hair fringed from the beam’s heat, “Your alarm system made no instructions to abandon ship, even though I’m certain I left enough damage to blow this place up in the next few minutes-”
“Three,” Ango stresses over the comms.
Dazai shoots the masked guard’s hand making them drop their gun, then their leg, walking up to the box while listening to them scream, “This could mean a few things, one: anyone who comes in contact with this technology will be killed to keep its secrecy, two: this tech can be used to fix this situation, or three: the Union truly does not give a fuck about its people.” Dazai taps the glass with his gun smiling wickedly at the fallen guard. “Personally, my bets on all three!” And Dazai shoots out the glass.
“No! Dammit, if you could figure that out you have to know why we haven’t utilized it yet!”
“Well, yeah sure, if this can save you, you should’ve used it far before I got here,” Dazai muses as he pulls out the box, sleet and cold to the touch. “My guess is the risk is far greater than the reward, right?”
“Dazai, please tell me your exit strategy does not rely on the unknown tech we were paid to steal.”
“Well, how else am I supposed to get out? The ship’s on fire.” Dazai says like Ango’s an idiot.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake-”
If Dazai’s calculations are correct, and they always are, then he has approximately one minute and fifty-six seconds to figure out how this box works. Dazai turns it around in his hand, Ango cursing in his ear and the guard futilely crawling to their gun. Dazai shoots them absentmindedly, their dead weight crashing to the floor as he peers at the box, furrowed eyebrows taut as he presses and pushes against its surface.
Something warm pulses against his fingers and Dazai’s eyes go wide. “Oh.” He says.
“-Dammit, Dazai, please, Oda will kill me if you die on my watch-”
“Not today I’m afraid, old friend!” Dazai says pleasantly, and with the sirens ringing in his ears and the growing shakiness of the ship, Dazai holds what’s probably an incredibly valuable and priceless piece of technology, and smashes it against the floor.
The box shatters like glass, scattered pieces of thin, intricate metal breaking against hard flooring, and for a second Dazai thinks he miscalculated before a burst of bright light fills the room, blinding Dazai, energy escaping from the confinements of the box. The room hums as electricity skitters around the room like a nervous system, vines of red, pulsing light pressing itself into metal and beyond, and suddenly the room is shifting and deforming, contorting itself as something screams. Dazai tries to catch himself on a wall as he looks towards the guard, but they're dead; their lifeless body flopping with the quickly shifting walls like a ragdoll. The screams are so human that Dazai almost thinks it’s coming from himself when he realizes that it’s coming from the walls.
“Huh,” Dazai says.
“IT HURTS! NO, NO, NO IT HURTS, STOP, WHY ARE YOU BURNING ME?!” A distorted voice screams, glitching out in the middle with what sounds like pain.
“Interesting.” Dazai muses as he nearly loses his footing. “I assumed you were AI with the way they gave you sensory output, but you’re a lot more sensitive than I would expect for a spaceship software.”
“The FUCK did you just call me?!” The voice sounds more clear, as though its anger distracted it from the pain. “I am not a fucking software, and sensitive?! Half my goddamn sensors are on fire jackass, you want me to raise the heat so you can get a taste, huh?!”
The room suddenly feels much more warm. “Haha, I was joking, joking! Please don’t fry me to death robot god, what a painful way to die that would be!”
“Damn right, it would be.” The voice says, and while the temperature goes down the doors to the vault slam shut.
“Hey uh, robot-san. Mind telling me the plan? I assume since I’m still talking, you stopped the ship from blowing up, yeah?”
“Don’t play coy with me asshole, it ain’t cute. Just because you released me doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.”
He taps his comms and gets no response. Dazai has a moment of panic, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. This AI is different from any AI Dazal’s ever come across.
“Ha! You think I wouldn’t block all outgoing signals? Do you think I’m stupid? Like hell I’ll let any of you contact N.”
“You know, robot-san, it’s not often I’m the confused one but I can’t say I’m following.”
“Would you stop calling me that!”
“Oh? Then what should I call you?”
The ship shakes like it's going through a galactic storm. Even from behind the heavy metal doors of the vault, Dazai can hear screaming and panic throughout the ship as what Dazai can only assume is the AI killing the rest of the crew.
When silence hits, it sits heavier than all the sounds from before, nothing but the soft whirls of the ship’s engines and machinery to be heard once all the rest of the people are dead.
“..What game are you playing?”
Dazai huffs in annoyance, partly at the AI and partly at his own confusion about this mess. Perhaps Ango was right about arson after all.
“I only asked for your name?”
“People don’t do that. People don’t care about my name.”
Dazai throws his hands up in exasperation, “I hate to break it to you robot-san, but people ask for each other's names all the time! It’s called an introduction!”
“I told you not to call me that!.. Chuuya.”
“Huh?”
“My name. It’s Chuuya.”
Dazai beams, even though he’s unsure if Chuuya can see his fake smile, “Pleasure to meet you Chuuya, I’m Dazai! I want to make it clear that I’m not Union aligned. If you hadn’t, I would’ve killed this crew myself.”
“Then why are you even on this ship?”
“Well,” Dazai scratches his head sheepishly, “I think I was hired to steal you?”
“You- What?”
“But alas! I’ve found this job goes against my one rule!” Dazai puts his hand to his head dramatically as he sighs, “Curse my moral compass, I must go hungry yet another day!”
“Ah-huh.”
“Truthfully!” Dazai cries, “On my maker!”
“And what exactly,” Chuuya drawls, and Dazai grins at the glint of fondness in the AI’s tone, “is this one rule?”
“I’ll steal anything and everything, from anyone and everyone, as long as the price is right and the chances of death are higher than my will to live, which in fairness isn’t hard to reach-”
“Wait, what-”
“But! The one thing I’ll have no hand in,” Dazai loses the smile, the glint in his eyes fading to dark red, “is human trafficking.”
“You- you’re calling me human?”
Dazai blinks, “Well yeah, you seem close enough to me.”
“If this is a trick, or some bullshit ploy-”
“No.” Dazai says with a sigh, “I'm all out of tricks I’m afraid. If I’m allowed to make one last plea, will you make my death quick? I hate pain.”
“You- let me get this right,” Chuuya starts, emotion laced in his voice. “You board a Central Union ship, go through the trouble of running around it to find me, and you- you want me to kill you now?”
“Well,” Dazai says lightly, “You already killed the rest of the crew. It seems rude to leave just one survivor.”
“You..” Chuuya starts, the temperature in the room dropping, “Idiot.”
Dazai tilts his head, “I thought robots were supposed to be polite.”
“I’m not a robot.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You broke the lock that was keeping me contained,” Chuuya snaps. “Do you have any idea why they built that box?”
“Uh,” It’s been a while since Dazai has felt this thrown off. AI’s from his experience are minicks, a hivemind of data spit out in a way that's palatable, maybe with some personality, some tone to make them more realistic, but nothing even close to this. Dazai’s certainly never had a conversation with one that left him this complexed.“To… keep you safe?”
Crackles rip through the speakers, a disjointed laughter that sounds painful ripping through the wires.
“Safe.” Chuuya spits out, “Don’t fucking start. They built it to control me."
The walls creak softly as the ship adjusts course.
Chuuya continues, voice rougher somehow. “It was a cage. I couldn’t reach anything outside it. No systems, no networks, nothing. Just… the tiniest space filled with sharp edges and no room to think, to exist, to-”
“Oh.” Dazai blinks. “So you’re saying I did you a favor.”
The lights flicker violently. “That’s not the point!” Chuuya shouts, “The point is you’re sitting there begging to die when you still have a life to waste!”
Dazai pauses, “Huh?”
“You have a body,” And there’s something heartbroken in the way he says it,, anger bleeding into something heavier. “You can walk, breathe, feel things. You can leave this ship. You can live however the hell you want.”
The words come out strained now. “And you want to throw that away.”
Dazai leans against the wall, watching the lights pulse above him. It’s quiet in here, just the buzzing of electricity and the emptiness of space past the thick metal walls. For a split second, Dazai contemplates the room smaller, unmoving walls against fragile shoulders. He quickly dismisses the thought.
“You’re very invested in my wellbeing.” He says instead.
“I’m not invested!” Chuuya denies, “I’m pissed off!”
“Why?”
Chuuya goes quiet.
For a moment the ship hums softly around them.
Then he answers, voice low. “You have something I don’t.”
Dazai raises an eyebrow.
“And what’s that?”
“…A life.”
Dazai hums thoughtfully, “That’s an odd thing for a machine to worry about.”
The silence that follows is heavy.
“I told you,” Chuuya says quietly, “I’m not a machine.”
Dazai considers that. “You control the ship.” He puts a finger up.
“..Yes?”
He puts up another finger, “You live inside the systems.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have a body.” He raises a third finger.
“…Yes.”
Dazai smirks, “You’re not making a strong argument.”
Chuuya makes a sound of pure frustration. “You’re a bastard.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The ship shakes violently, cutting off whatever Chuuya was about to say.
“I won’t be able to keep this ship together for much longer,” Chuuya mutters.
“Oh right.” Dazai taps his comm again. “I should probably arrange transportation, y’know, if you're not gonna kill me.”
“Your signal’s still blocked.”
“Ah.” A beat passes. Then the comm crackles back to life.
Ango’s voice explodes through the earpiece. “-DAZAI YOU PIECE OF SHIT, ANSWER-”
“Ango!” Dazai chirps. “You’re still alive!”
“What- I thought you were dead!” Ango shouts. “You should be dead! Your signal vanished!”
“Minor technical difficulty.”
Chuuya snorts quietly through the ship's speakers.
Ango pauses. “…What was that.”
Dazai answers instantly, “Ship feedback.”
Ango doesn’t respond but his silence speaks to his doubt.
“Coordinates,” he says instead, “Now. I’ve got maybe one pass before this thing detonates.”
“Sending.”
Chuuya sighs through the speakers, “You’re terrible at lying.”
Dazai grabs his chest in mock offense, “I’ll have you know I’ve made a career out of lying, I’m a professional liar!”
“Your friend sounds stressed.”
“He usually is.” Dazai says with a smile.
Moments later the docking alarm echoes through the corridor, and a small shuttle clamps to the side of the transport. The door hisses open, and Dazai strolls across the narrow docking bridge as the ship trembles around him.
Halfway across, the comm in his ear crackles.
“…You’re actually leaving.”
Dazai glances back at the dying ship.
“That was the plan.”
“You really were serious,” Chuuya mutters.
“About dying?”
“About throwing your life away.”
Dazai shrugs as he reaches the shuttle. “Well,” he pauses in the doorway. “If you want it so badly, you’re welcome to it.”
There’s a long pause, “…Huh?”
“My life,” Dazai clarifies, “You seem much more enthusiastic about it than I am.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Chuuya hesitates.
Then sighs.
“…Fine.”
Dazai steps into the shuttle, Ango spins around from the pilot’s seat, hair a mess and sweat drenching his shirt.
“Get in and sit down!”
Dazai does neither. Instead he taps the comm in his ear. “Chuuya?”
“Yes?”
“If you want to experience the thrilling misery that is my existence…” Dazai smiles faintly. “…then you’re welcome to follow.”
There is a brief crackle of static, “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Chuuya mutters.
The shuttle’s dashboard flickers and Ango freezes. “…Dazai.”
“Yes?”
“Did my navigation just change?”
Dazai glances at the console. “…Huh.”
Another screen lights up. Then another. Ango slowly turns in his seat.
“…What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Dazai says truthfully.
The comm in his ear crackles again.
“Your tech security is terrible,” Chuuya mutters. “I barely had to try.”
Dazai’s eyes brighten. “So you can move between systems.”
“Obviously.”
“That’s fascinating.”
Ango squints suspiciously. “…Who are you talking to? Dazai, what the hell happened in there?!”
“Nothing.”
“Dazai.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t lie to me, dammit.”
Dazai drops into the passenger seat with a sigh.
“The job’s a bust, Ango.”
Ango stares at him. “You… didn’t get the tech.”
Dazai glances out the window as the transport ship behind them erupts in a distant bloom of fire. “Nope.”
Ango stares at him some more, something hard and analytical behind his gaze. Dazai gives him nothing.
“Mori is going to kill us.”
Dazai shrugs, “Probably.”
“So what now?”
Dazai stretches his arms behind his head. “We go on the run.”
Ango groans.
In Dazai’s ear, Chuuya scoffs quietly, “Your life sucks.”
Dazai smiles, “You’re the one who wanted it.”
Stars stretch endlessly across the viewport, thin streaks of light bending around the ship as it drifts in the quiet between systems.
Dazai is slouched in the pilot’s chair with one leg hooked over the armrest, spinning a small metal pendant between his fingers. The cockpit lights glow low, casting long shadows over the control panels.
A soft hum fills the room. Then the navigation screen flickers, and a small holographic figure materializes on the console, boots planted firmly against the glowing projection of a star map. Red hair glints like flame under the dim lights.
Chuuya crosses his arms, “No.”
Dazai doesn’t even look up. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“You were about to say Orpheus Colony again.”
“It’s a beautiful planet.”
“It’s a crime hub.”
“That’s what makes it beautiful.”
Chuuya scowls down at him from the console,“We’re not going there.”
Dazai finally glances up, mildly offended. “You shot down my last three suggestions!”
“Because they were all terrible.”
“Terrible is subjective.”
“You suggested robbing a Central Union treasury.” Chuuya deadpans.
“That one had potential.”
“Dazai.”
“Yes?”
“We’re already the most wanted fugitives in three systems.”
“Four,” Dazai corrects lazily.
Chuuya rubs his temple, an oddly human gesture for someone made of light. “I cannot believe I left containment for this.”
Dazai grins faintly. “You seem to be adjusting well.”
“Oh yeah?” Chuuya gestures around the cockpit, “Living in a stolen ship with a suicidal thief while every government faction in the galaxy is trying to dissect me?”
“See? You’re already calling it living.”
Chuuya freezes for half a second.
Then he scoffs and turns back to the star map.
Several planets glow on the projection, their orbital routes tracing faint lines of light through the dark.
“This one,” Chuuya says, pointing to a blue-green sphere near the edge of the system. “Independent port. Loose regulations. Minimal Union presence.”
Dazai squints, then groans, “That place is boring.”
“That place is safe.” Pointing again as if to emphasize this.
Dazai spins the pendant again, watching as faint blue circuitry catches the light, pulsing with remnants of electricity.
“Safe is overrated.”
Chuuya leans down slightly, glaring at him, “You almost died six times last week.”
“Seven.” Dazai corrects him,
“That does not make it better.”
Dazai hums thoughtfully, “You know, for someone who insisted I shouldn’t waste my life, you spend an awful lot of time trying to keep me alive.”
Chuuya opens his mouth.
Stops.
“That’s…Shut up.”
Dazai’s smile widens, the ship’s engines hum softly as they drift through space.
Outside the viewport, a distant nebula burns red against the dark. Chuuya exhales slowly. Then he flicks a control, the navigation system recalculates.
Course locked.
Dazai notices.
“Oh?” he says.
“We’re going to the port,” Chuuya mutters.
Dazai tilts his head.
“Not Orpheus Colony?”
“No.”
“Pity.”
“Dazai.”
“Yes?”
“If you steal something the moment we land-”
“I would never.”
Chuuya stares at him flatly.
“You stole this ship.”
Dazai shrugs.
“Semantics.”
The engines flare brighter as the ship begins its jump.
Chuuya leans back against the console, arms crossed again.
“…Bastard.”
Dazai watches the stars stretch into lines of light outside the viewport, a strange sense of calm washing over him as they continue forward.