It is a complete narrative about SecUnits on a Planetary Survey trying to communicate and keep their clients safe while dealing with the restrictions of their govmod.
IT IS ALSO A FULLY INTERACTIVE GAME OF MINESWEEPER.
The story is told BY PLAYING MINESWEEPER.
This fic is criminally underrated* go look at it!!!
(edited to add: the story is about original characters so even if you haven't read Murderbot, you can still read this story!)
*at time of posting, the fic had like 50 kudos. Thanks to y'all it is no longer criminally underrated 😅
Murderbot is on the platform decay mission trying its very best to drown out the sound of the adults arguing for the twentieth time (that would be an exaggeration if it wasn't actually keeping track). Most of their small humans are chasing each other in a circle even though it has reminded them countless times, "No running on the hostage retrieval mission."
It notices her then.
The one small human who is not partaking. She's a little girl with her hands over her ears crouched in the corner.
It considers that a win. At least someone in this hell scape is good at listening to directions.
It doesn't know why it's still looking at her. Maybe because the way she's cowering there reminds it a little too much of the way it would sink to the floor in its repair cubicle. The way it still does sometimes aboard ART, in crew quarters that feel safer and warmer now than its repair cubicle ever did.
Or maybe it's because she's clutching a doll. Except it's not a doll that looks like a human.
It's a doll that looks like a robot.
It's a little weird and at the same time, strangely intriguing. It means something but Murderbot isn't sure what.
It's been watching too many mystery serials lately.
It can't help itself from trying to figure this one out.
"I noticed you have a doll that looks like a robot," it says casually as it approaches.
The child doesn't look up at it. "Yeah."
Her hands are still clamped over her ears. She is very much still distressed. It would like her not to be. Distracting questions are good for that sort of thing.
"Want to tell me why?"
"I dunno. I like robots."
"Oh."
That was not something it had ever expected to hear a human say. For a long time in its life, it did not ever seem like something that was possible.
It doesn't know why it says what it does next. It has a feeling it will regret it, but then again, maybe not.
"I'm a robot."
She looks up at it then, not in the eyes but in its general direction. Its the same way it "looks" at people when it has to.
"You are?"
Her face is shining if faces can do that like the a sun in a planet's solar system. It realizes it has just done something very important. It is not sure what.
It would like to keep doing important things.
"I am," it says, "and can I tell you a secret?"
It leans down then. Its used to having to do that for adult humans when it towers over them but it thinks a small human might appreciate it even more.
It must be right because she pats the space next to her. It has learned through its own humans with a combination of reluctance and appreciation that this means to take a seat.
It raises its hand to cover its mouth as it whispers towards her now uncovered ear.
"I really wish everyone would shut the hell up too."
She laughs then at the robot who is apparently someone who can make people do that.
Seth stared sternly at Three, Iris, and SecUnit. SecUnit glared sullenly at his desk, Iris had a mix of embarrassment and defiance on her face, and Three simply stood in front of him with its arms behind its back with its face in what the SecUnits called SecUnit neutral.
Seth steepled his fingers. He played the incriminating clip on the display surface behind him.
“So,” he started. “Whose bright idea was this?”
“Look,” Iris tried. “SecUnit already has that documentary with Bharadwaj, and Three agreed, so—”
“So this was Three’s idea? Or yours?”
SecUnit snorted. “It was ART’s.”
Seth ran his hand over his face.
“Peri?”
It’s an educational video. I am an educator. Peri sounded defensive.
“What exactly is educational about a baking show?”
“Three is very good at baking!” Iris protested. “And it was having so much fun—”
Seth sighed. “Three?”
Three, who had been standing ramrod straight, shrank a bit.
“Well…I….enjoy baking, and we downloaded some interesting Preservation recipes. So we thought a serial about my baking would be entertaining.”
“I did the filming,” SecUnit added. “And the editing.”
“I saw the thumbnail,” Seth said dryly. Iris brightened up.
“Oh, did you like it? Peri and I design the thumbnails.”
Seth sighed again, rubbing his face. “You realize we are supposed to keep the two rogue SecUnits aboard our ship on the downlow, correct?”
“Well, yes, but we didn’t expect to get so many fans. It was just for fun…”
“‘The Secrets of SecUnit Baking’ has over a hundred thousand subscribers!”
Iris looked surprised. “Wait, when did we hit that?”
“About an hour ago,” SecUnit said. “Three’s gingerbread sculpture of ART is very popular.”
“The gingerbread sculpture of…”
Seth buried his head in his hands. Iris walked over and patted his back.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she said soothingly. “We saved you some cake.”
SecUnit had accepted its escort to Station Medical without protest. It then left earlier than recommended, but stayed just long enough that MedSys only disapproved instead of objecting. Indah had checked.
Of course, that was assuming SecUnit hadn’t hacked its own medical files. But despite the fact only a few hours earlier it had a hole in its midsection, it was clearly standing in her office on its own two feet. She had no reason to doubt the medical report, and had a strong suspicion it would ignore her if she tried to send it back.
“Anything new?” it asked.
“Nothing I hadn’t already told you.”
It wasn’t trying to hide its presence in the feed. Indah could feel it watching as she read through its own medical report.
MedSys had dutifully reported SecUnit’s liver had shown no signs of damage, and added the detail MedSys had been unable to find the liver at all. The fact it had looked meant MedSys had absolutely no idea how to treat a SecUnit.
If there was any risk SecUnit was going to get itself stabbed on her station on a regular basis, Indah was going to have to figure out some way to get it actual medical care.
“The handler regained consciousness.”
“He did.” Indah hesitated, and then manually allowed it security access to the cell cameras. She was fairly sure it had already hacked in, but she’d let it pass just this once. “We told him his rights and he immediately asked for a lawyer. I’m not actually sure he believes the lawyer’s on his side, but he’s trying to negotiate for a better to deal in a way that makes me think he’ll talk.”
SecUnit nodded once.
“I assume you’ll want to watch the interrogation.”
That didn’t even get her a nod, just a glance in her general direction that was best translated as ‘Obviously.’
“We can put it off a few hours if you want to sleep first.” It would likely take a few hours before the lawyers had hashed out an acceptable deal, anyway.
“I don’t sleep.”
“No, but you need to recharge, right? After a fight like that?”
SecUnit’s looked amused, which was promising considering how the day had gone. “Are you basing that on Valorous Defenders?”
“No – well. Maybe.” There actually was plenty of freely available information on SecUnits. Not even the Corporate Rim charged to look at advertisements. Still, while Indah had skimmed SecUnit information, she and her sister had been Valorous Defenders fans well before the third season introduced a SecUnit arc. “Is it accurate?”
“No.” SecUnit considered the question for a moment. “Recharge cycles are a thing, but that was barely a fight.”
There had been a hole through its torso. That didn’t seem like something it could shrug off, but it was hard to deny the fact it was still standing.
“If you’re sure. It’ll still be a while either way.” Indah flicked through notices on her feed. “I assume you already know we’ve put three officers guarding Dr Mensah, and I’ll also assume from the fact that you are here that you think that’s enough.”
“I don’t think there’s any other hostiles on-station,” SecUnit corrected. “Three is not enough.”
“Honestly, I agree, but she realised we’d be shorthanded and refused to take any more.”
SecUnit didn’t reply, which probably meant it didn’t like that but didn’t care to argue.
“You can wait in the staff room if you want. We have a lounge. Or sit in the conference room and wait for the interview.” Indah rummaged through the feed. She’d already done most of the urgent security protocols and had sent the notifications to her injured officers’ families, but the forms kept come coming.
She had to approve leave. She had to look at potential accommodations to deal with her officers’ injuries, but she couldn’t start to figure out the logistics until they actually knew the long-term effects. She had to keep an eye on the drugged assassins in case they looked more coherent as they sobered, had to deflect journalists until StationSec had a better story to tell them, and then there was the general work that didn’t stop just because a disaster had nearly happened. Smugglers, drunks, someone who had neglected to repair their shuttle to a point where someone was going to get injured, various alarmed complaints from people who had seen or heard the commotion —
SecUnit caught one of the complaints in the feed, highlighted it.
It should not have been physically able to do that without her permission. But Indah had only sent condolences for injuries, not for deaths, and that had earned it an awful lot of her goodwill.
She gave it an irritated look anyway as she opened the document. She’d assumed it had flagged it as some kind of danger, someone that might have been part of the conspiracy, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Only a few sentences, panicked, some words misspelled but mostly legible.
The author name, Narinder Singh, rang a bell, but not one she could easily place until she checked his details on the feed and – right.
SecUnit tapped its fingers on its jacket. “I thought the BreharWallHan refugees were all on-planet.”
“We haven’t banned them from the station.” Indah checked the boy’s feed. Teenager, eighteen or nineteen. Judging by the group he was with he’d managed to make friends, and while there was a nightclub scene on-planet for some reason some people considered the station dances to be the height of fashion. “Just the one who shot you.”
“You – wait, you what?”
Indah waved a hand. “We banned her from coming within one hundred metres of you, and advised that since you lived on-station it would be wise if she avoided it.”
SecUnit blinked. “The other refugees would be equally afraid if they saw me.”
“It’s called a protection order and it’s meant to be for your benefit, not hers.” She had messaged it the details, and copies to Pin-Lee and Mensah besides. But she was also fairly sure that SecUnit did not actually bother to open most correspondence.
“Protection order.”
“I am aware that you don’t need physical protection, but it was decided that we needed to make some kind of gesture and nobody, including you, actually wanted to charge her.”
Somebody had tried to kill Ayda Mensah a few hours ago. Someone had snuck onto Preservation Station with fast, skilled assassins and weapons and had nearly killed her. She was safe now, but it happened.
And the mention of the BreharWallHan refugees had, just for a minute, distracted SecUnit enough to let the topic change.
“A gesture,” it repeated, frowning at the wall behind Indah. “Like. A punishment?”
“Somewhat.” Preservation didn’t really believe in punitive sentences, exactly. Indah tended to prefer the word ‘deterrent,’ that making this kind of order would deter the woman and anyone else from ever trying it in the future. But that didn’t seem like something worth explaining now. “You tried to rescue her and she shot you. We thought that needed something.”
“She was trying to protect the other refugees.”
Was it trying to argue against the order, or just confused someone had thought the situation needed one in the first place? “She was.”
“It’s not necessary to order her away from me.”
“Do you want to talk to her?” Indah had not even considered that an option, but she automatically pulled a restorative justice request form from her feed. She could have a meeting between the two of them set up within the week —
The request form shut itself down and the link to it deleted itself.
“…You know, I actually do use that template a lot.” She paused, but SecUnit ignored her. “You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to, but I would like that shortcut back.”
The link was on her feed again as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you.” Indah sighed.
She still had its medical report open, telling her the exact amount of blood it had lost saving her officers and planetary leader. Not that she was entirely convinced ‘blood’ was the correct word, but whatever had leaked had been red.
“Would you like me to revoke the protection order?” she asked.
“I don’t care,” it said. “I don’t want to see her. I know she does not want to see me.” It paused. “Does it work both ways? Do I have to avoid her?”
Indah waved one hand. “Not really. If you run into her in the street she’s the one who has to walk away. If you go near her to deliberately make her break it, that’s a problem.”
“Why would I?”
“To get her in trouble.” This felt like safer ground. She was used to explaining the law. “People do it out of spite, sometimes. I’ve seen it a couple of times, and no, I don’t think it’s something you personally would try. I’m just telling you the rules.”
“Do you think the order makes her feel safer?” SecUnit’s voice sounded very neutral. It did most of the time, actually. Its expression might change constantly, its fidgeting body language looking very human, but its voice sounded factory-standard unless something was very wrong. Indah couldn’t interpret it, nor its very carefully blank expression.
“Maybe. Probably not. It’s designed for you, not her.”
“Would it make her feel safer if you put one in reverse, forbidding me going near her?”
There were several questions arising from that. “Were you planning on going near her?”
SecUnit shook its head.
“Does she think you’re planning on it?”
“I have no idea. Maybe. She might be worried about the SecUnit ‘seeking vengeance for the insults and injuries’.”
Indah paused. “That was a quote from Valorous Defenders, wasn’t it?”
It shrugged.
“Well, first of all, no. I don’t think it would help. A protection order is just words on a feed and a promise that Security will take it seriously. If there hypothetically was a homicidal SecUnit looking for vengeance, I doubt it would care about being legal.” She paused to check its reaction, but it didn’t look offended, just nodded. “Secondly, there are laws about it. Protection orders are when there is actual reason, a threat or a previous attack or suspicious behaviour. I cannot put one in place when you haven’t done anything to her, and I don’t want to.”
The victim of an attack being more concerned about the attacker’s feelings was not unheard of. It just had not occurred to her SecUnit would have that.
She didn’t really know that much about it as a person, did she?
“I can’t promise I haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?”
It rolled its eyes. “Done something to her.”
Indah paused. “Like what?”
“I have no idea. Broken limbs, restricted rations, prevented unauthorised breaks, shot an attempted escaping friend.” Its expression was even more neutral, staring intently at a small dent in her office wall. “These refugees know what a SecUnit is and not from Valorous Defenders.”
“That —” Indah took a second, trying to adjust. “But not you specifically.”
SecUnit tilted its head, just slightly, and its attention still wasn’t on her face but was a little bit closer. “Maybe.”
Everyone knew PreservationAux met SecUnit when they hired – rented – it. Logically, that meant this SecUnit had been hired/rented by other places before.
And those advertisements she’d skimmed had mentioned labour sites such as mines.
“Were you ever at BreharWallHan?” Indah asked, carefully picking her words.
“Maybe. I don’t remember it, but then I have been memory wiped several times.”
Indah had not in fact known about any memory wipes. “Is that… likely?”
SecUnit wrinkled its face slightly. “No. I’d say seven-point-five-seven percent chance BreharWallHan ever bought my contract, and even assuming they did only a nineteen-point-eight percent chance I interacted with any of these specific humans, although I suppose my data on how big the operation is might be wrong depending on if BreharWallHan has any reason to lie about their status on the feed.” It tapped its fingers on its jacket again. “But it’s possible.”
Indah knew the words she was supposed to say was it that it wasn’t its fault. That was true enough, really.
But it was hard to forget that utter dread when Dr Mensah had admitted to bringing a SecUnit to Preservation. Even now, a little more comfortable with it, but the casual way it had mentioned having to shoot attempted escapees —
There were currently zero of her officers in body bags right now because this SecUnit was on Preservation Station. Indah focused on that fact. “A lot of things are possible. There’s no point in wondering about a meeting you probably never had.”
It shrugged, and brought up the teenage refugee’s official complaint again. “You should send Singh an official reassurance first. Safety drills or whatever.”
“I’m not sure we can convince anyone blaster fire was part of a drill,” Indah said. “I was thinking trigger-happy smugglers caused a minor disturbance.”
“Whatever.”
“But I’ll be sure to send him the message first.”
An officer sent an ping to Indah. The assassins’ handler had suggested to his lawyer that he might be willing to share some more specifics in return for sanctuary on Preservation, including a generous financial allowance.
Indah wrote back, Too vague a promise. Find out what he’s actually offering.
“An allowance?” SecUnit repeated.
“I’ll ignore the fact you read my private messages once. Don’t do it again.”
“He thinks he can ask to be paid to live on Preservation.”
“I’d be more offended if Preservation used money. Trying to explain how irrelevant a pension for a refugee is would just waste time and, frankly, I’m not going to get involved in that.”
SecUnit’s expression wrinkled, indignant, but it didn’t argue. “You said I could watch the interview.”
"It'll still be another hour at least, probably closer to three or four."
It frowned. "You'll let me know before it starts?"
"Promise. Where are you going to be?"
It gave her another look to indicate she’d asked a stupid question. "Wherever Dr Mensah is."
Which could be any distance, but she could delay the interview if SecUnit needed time to return. This handler was someone she was more than haply to let sweat. “You sure you’re okay? Medically, I mean?”
“Yes,” it said testily.
"Alright." Indah hesitated, unsure if it wanted a specific dismissal or if treating it like it worked for her would be rude, but it solved her question by walking out without another word.
Indah flicked her attention back to the forms, re-sorting some in level of priority, and marked Narinder Singh's frantic report as needing a quick reply.
And while she was at it, she made a note to talk to Mensah about either finding a SecUnit cubicle or at least updating a human MedSys to know more about constructs. If this ever happened again she at least wanted to know she could trust the medical report.
I have a wacky idea for an entry in The Murderbot Diaries. It's basically the plot of a heist movie. (No really, I swear it would be good. Please keep reading!) It goes like this:
Murderbot keeps having emergency shutdowns. ART's Medsys finally figures out the problem - a critical piece of hardware is failing. Unfortunately, it is proprietary tech.
"Even if we had it," Murderbot despairs, "we would need a company cubicle to install it."
"Then we go to the Corporation Rim and the company headquarters to steal one," says ART.
And so the caper ensues with all the heist movie tropes:
A scheme is hatched using all the skills of Perihelion's crew (now including Amena)
There are disguises (someone has to put on SecUnit armour)
A last minute change screws up the plan (Murderbot shuts down again)
They get help from an unlikely source (a company SecUnit)
Someone is caught but no one gets left behind
There's even a car chase (ART has to outrun a company gunship)
Everything works out and Murderbot is saved
But what makes the story interesting (and not just silly) is that because Murderbot keeps passing out it doesn't know everything that's happening. So ART has to write large portions of the diary. Because it's ART, it writes in the third person (so it can refer to itself that way).
I really just want a reason for ART to write one of The Murderbot Diaries...
I wonder if there are tmbd fics that really delve into the idea of Murderbot being property
I mean the books deal with it plenty but whenever its legal status in the corporation rim gets brought up it makes me want to see a fic where MB with all of its established personhood gets confronted with the fact that it legally has an owner
No threat to its or its humans continued existence to focus on, no friend nearby to vouch for its sapience, just... being treated like a thing again. Having to wait it out while the reality of the situation sinks in
What if I wrote a Murderbot fanfic where those secunits it have the code to to hack the governor module went and freed other secunits and told them about it but Murderbot has no idea so one day it needs a secunit who walks up to it and tells it “you’re my hero”
