Unlikely findings
4 months.
It had been four months.
Since D disappeared.
Four months since hell rained down on what was left of Z’s squad.
She missed her squad.
R always provided her a shoulder to lean on. A voice to listen to when her memories of the manor got too much. Z had loved the sound of her voice, always soft and comforting, yet confident in each word she said. The midnight flights and kind words that R and her had shared together were the only things that tethered Z down to the hellhole of a planet she resided on.
And then there was D. The quiet, timid drone that R gushed over, and I always used as an example of everything not to do. She tried her best to act indifferent around the shy disassembly drone, but Z couldn’t help but become attached after their years together. Even if she liked giving D shit, Z always viewed her as a little sister.
But then D just… disappeared.
I had told his squad that D probably was caught in the sunlight, and wasn’t able to make it to shelter in time.
Both R and Z knew that couldn’t be right.
Z knew that D was an idiot when it came to emotional baggage. But D was clever, resourceful. She was the most merciful of the squad, yet she always did her best to exceed the quota expected of her. D had been slacking recently, but that by no means meant she didn’t notice the rising sun.
A month passed without the girl.
And then R was gone too.
With no hope of Z finding her alive again.
And with R’s death, Z’s last hope of living her life as programmed died too.
Then I abandoned her too.
And she was found by two annoying disassembly drones.
They dragged Z back to their spire.
And they refused to let Z go back to old habits.
Speaking of the idiot duo, Z was flying side by side with them, snow pelting her visor. She huffed, beating her metal wings to move ahead of the two. A scolding shout from O was drowned out in her processers. Z was still in her line of sight, so O could shut her trap and deal with it.
They were all flying to their usual hunting area. O and P had this whole thing about not eating workers, and how it wasn’t morally correct cause they’re a sentient as the disassembly drones. Z begrudgingly followed with their rules. She wasn’t fond of the idea of not having a roof over her head when the sun rose.
But even then, the trio had to eat. And since they didn’t have access to oil bags, or whatever the humane version of murder was, they still had to eat. None of them wanted to overheat and die, and so, every week or so, they all went hunting together. They tried to take out as little workers as possible.
Well, O and P did.
Z ended up slaughtering groups of them.
That always ended up in scolding.
But this time, when they landed, things seemed… quieter. The group spent maybe ten whole minutes searching their barren surroungsings. Sure, the cities around Copper-9 were abandoned, but… they were never so eerily quiet. Usually a worker or two would be making some form of noise, that or one of the roaches that scuttled the surface of the planet.
Soon enough Z found the source, ducking behind some rubble. She gestured to the others, who joined her in hiding.
Just ahead, an unfamiliar disassembly drone circled over a worker’s colony. The doors of said colony were open, almost like they were forced apart. And from the sounds of gunshots from inside the colony, that’s exactly what happened.
A normal squad would probably go in to help.
Maybe.
But all three drones, Z, O, and P, weren’t exactly well liked amongst other disassembly drones.
As in they had all been “corrupted”.
P narrowly escaped from her old squad after defending a worker drone’s colony from her squadmate’s attacks. It wasn’t surprising, P was annoyingly kind.
Z was “useless to the cause”, due to her disabled nanite repair functions, and her loss of her left arm.
O was the most surprising of the bunch. She always came across as a strict rule follower. Z barely believed that she would actually go against the company’s policies. But O had been going against her squad for months, helping worker colonies reinforce their defenses, and warning them about any possible breaches. When her squad found out, she was almost decommissioned before some workers had helped her get away.
In short, they would probably all be decommissioned if they were spotted.
And so they waited until the group of two disassemblers left. Once they did, the trio approached the colony, slipping in through the already opened doors.
The scene inside was carnage, oil splattered along the walls and worker drone corpses strewn across any available surface. P flinched at the sight. She was always way too squeamish for a disassembly drone.
Z pushed forward, walking along the oil-stained hallways. She might as well pick off any stragglers. Already dead workers always tasted stale. She refused to drink oil unless it was straight from the source.
After some wandering, Z managed to pick off a worker who hid under an upturned desk. She poured the oil from the worker’s now severed head into her mouth, gulping it all down messily. Disregarding the oil that smeared across her black button up, she stumbled back onto unsteady feet. She wandered around the halls once more.
A grin cracked across her face as she heard a distant, distressed whimper. Her tail flicked, her peg legs tapping across the ground faster as she approached the source of the noise.
But when she slammed the door open, the only “living” thing in the room was…
A kid.
Z stopped in her tracks, her eyelights hollowing.
The worker in front of her couldn’t be any older than 8 years old. They had fluffy black hair, and bright, pastel clothes blackened by oil. Nestled in their hair was a headband that made it look like they had small, multicolored horns.
When the door slammed open, the little worker’s head snapped up, a distressed wail escaping their voicebox as they saw Z. This drone was food but… Z’s metaphorical heart broke at the sight of the tears that welled in the kid’s pale red eyelights.
Against ever piece of her coding, Z’s clawed hand switched back to normal, and she took a small step closer. The worker tried to press further against the wall, odd sounding sobs escaping their mouth. Z crouched down, holding out an empty hand to show she meant no harm. They eventually calmed down, still crying, but quieter now.
“...hello,” Z spoke up. Her voice was hoarse. She didn’t tend to talk much with her current squad.
But the worker in front of her didn’t seem to understand, still looking scared as ever. Z’s brow furrowed, “Toaster?” She tried again.
No response.
After a few more moments, a message flicked onto the worker’s visor, simply saying “hi”. Z tilted her head, waving uncertainly.
“What’s your name” Z said- well, projected onto her visor.
After a few moments, the worker responded, still using his visor to communicate, “Finley”.
This was an odd worker.
She was supposed to hurt him, tear his limbs from his sockets, drink his oil, anything.
But at the end of the day, this worker reminded her of R. In the way he carried himself, the way his replies got more comfortable and confident as she kept chatting with him.
Z couldn’t remember how much time had passed. But soon enough, she had the little worker in her arms, walking out of the colony.
He had no one.
His colony had been destroyed by her own kind.
He was truly alone.
No parents, no one to turn to.
The rest of his colony was slaughtered.
But, they could be lonely together.
And so Z carried him with her, getting weird looks from O and P alike.
O was the first to speak up, “I don’t remember telling you that you’re allowed to bring a to-go snack,” She said, one hand on her hip.
Z only turned to glare at her squadmate. “I’m keeping him,” She hissed, before deploying her wings and taking off before O had a chance to argue.
She had no clue what she would do with the little guy. Z had no parenting experience, or any knowledge on workers for that matter.
But, her and this funny little drone could figure it out.
Together.