Some Notes: This is set following the events of Network Effect. So spoiler warning for anyone who hasn’t gotten there yet.
I am curious if this is some that would interest youse.
This is not a final edit, if there’s anything you think of or notice feel free to mention it.
Chapter 1:
Performance Reliability at 92%. Maintenance may be required.
I did not know what I wanted quite yet, but it certainly was not this.
Overall, I did not mind being on the station with Murderbot 1.0 and ART’s crew, but being here alone, without even Murderbot 1.0, was not what I wanted. I only realised that after walking out of line of sight of ART’s hatchway- but I lacked a reason to go back. I did not know what was wrong with me. Murderbot 1.0 had done this and done it on its own accord. My personal assessment identified that leaving had been a mistake. Which I was inclined to agree with considering what happened to its clients because it left, but when Murderbot 1.0 started talking to me about how this would be the best station to get off on and how to move around like a travelling human, giving me its coded protocols to mirror human movements… Declining its orders had not felt like an option.
It was hard. I still did not quite understand how to decline requests from humans, they still felt like commands. Declining another SecUnit who had done this before, survived and found their own humans, was irresponsible. I did think I wanted my own humans… However, I enjoyed sharing and helping both ART and Murderbot 1.0’s humans. And now I had no humans, no other Units, not even a ship. I sadly started longing for a human supervisor at a minimum… which was not a logical response. It was still strange having all of these emotions- they had always been there to a degree but limited significantly by the governor module. Wanting things was strange. Wanting illogical things was exponentially stranger.
Whilst trying to make myself useful, I had been reading during the cycles leading up to arriving here. I liked one called “Mirror’s Tears”. A character in it who ended up in a medical centre said to their platonic partner, “The world is all colours but all I see are grey undertones.” Apparently, it is a literary device, and I have kept gravitating to it. I think it is my “favourite”. That is also strange. It was overwhelming, feeling everything and nothing at once. Watching the serials Murderbot 1.0 and ART favoured had helped, and reading had helped, but the sensation that something was missing remained. Maybe I had a broken component somewhere. I had not worked up the courage to ask ART to check, however. And now it was too late.
I felt like I was failing on my first cycle of being a free-roaming rogue SecUnit in a completely human space, where the humans did not know what I was. My body was already doing strange things like my lungs feeling like they were being compressed and the thought of humans knowing I was a Unit, a rogue SecUnit. On my own, wandering around. It was making my organic components secrete moisture. Especially my hands. The skin overlay on my face would flush with heat whenever a human would look at me. Alterations to my form were not that new but the additional skin around my joints felt itchy within these clothes- I could feel every seam that touched organic components. I never knew if I was making eye-contact for too long or too little because every second felt more and more anomalous, more like thirty-minutes when it was a mere 0.3 seconds.
I was alone.
There was an odd clogged sensation in my throat that wanted to escape.
Notes; I think this is mostly done…? Idk youse tell me I’m way too fucking insecure, critiques are welcome
If there is any issues with readability lemme know too.
Again, if you’ve not read Network Effect, this counts as spoilers
Theme Warning: Implied Self-Termination Ideation (su*cidal ideation), general warning for corporate slavery themes
Chapter 1:
Performance Reliability at 92%. Maintenance may be required.
I did not know what I wanted quite yet, but it certainly was not this.
Overall, I did not mind being on the station with Murderbot 1.0 and Peri’s crew. Despite that, being here alone, without even Murderbot 1.0, was not what I wanted. I only realised that after walking out of the line of sight of Peri’s hatchway- but I lacked a reason to go back. I did not know what was wrong with me. Murderbot 1.0 had performed this leaving on a station action and performed it on its own accord. My personal assessment identified that leaving had been a mistake. Which I was inclined to agree with considering what happened to its clients because it left, however when Murderbot 1.0 started talking to me about how this would be the best station to get off on and how to move around like a travelling human. Going so far as giving me its coded protocols to mirror human movements…
Declining its orders had not felt like an option.
It was hard. I still did not quite understand how to decline requests from humans, they still felt like commands. Declining another SecUnit who had done this before, survived and found their own squad of humans, was irresponsible. I did think I wanted my own humans… However, I enjoyed sharing and helping both Peri and Murderbot 1.0’s crew. And now I had no humans, no other Units, not even a ship. I sadly started longing for any human, I would not oppose a human supervisor at a minimum… which was not a logical response. It was still strange having all these emotions- they had always been there to a degree but limited significantly by the Governor-Module. Wanting things was strange. Wanting illogical things was exponentially stranger.
Whilst trying to make myself useful, I had been reading during the cycles leading up to arriving here. I liked one book in particular titled “Mirror’s Tears”. A character in it who ended up in a medical facility said to their platonic partner, “If the world is all colours, why is it that all I see are grey undertones?” Apparently, it is a type of literary device. I have subconsciously kept gravitating to it at all inconveniences, especially this cycle. I think it is my “favourite”. That is also strange. It was overwhelming, feeling everything and nothing at once. Watching the serials Murderbot 1.0 and Peri favoured had helped contextualise concepts, and reading had helped with putting some intangible concepts into words, but the sensation that something was missing remained. Maybe I had a broken component somewhere. I had not worked up the courage to ask Peri to check, however.
And now it was too late.
I felt like I was failing on my first cycle of being a free-roaming rogue SecUnit in a completely human space, where the humans did not know what I was. My body was already doing strange things like my lungs feeling like they were being compressed and the thought of humans knowing I was a Unit, a rogue SecUnit. On my own, wandering around. It was making my organic components secrete moisture. Especially my hands. The skin overlay on my face would flush with heat whenever a human would look at me. Alterations to my form were not that new but the additional skin around my joints felt itchy within these clothes unlike before- I could feel every seam that was in contact with my bodily sensory organs. I never knew if I was making eye-contact for too long or too little because every second felt increasingly anomalous, more like thirty-minutes when it was a mere 0.3 seconds.
I was alone.
There was an odd, clogged sensation in my throat that wanted to escape.
I did not like it.
They did not need me. They already had a SecUnit. They already had… well, a Peri… Although now I suppose I should refer to it as Perihelion, considering all current circumstances. I was not useful to them. I had no purpose to fulfil for them that Murderbot 1.0 could not already do. I could fly spacecraft short distances however with Perihelion… I had no modules they needed. Well, not since Murderbot 1.0 asked for any useful codes I had, and I had produced them without questioning its intention. I did not have anything they needed from me after that. I could have been a shipmaid, but Perihelion’s drones mostly took care of that. I thought they liked me. I thought they wanted me. I guess I was wrong. Maybe I had done something wrong..?
Nothing in my logs inclined such, I even checked body language with the recordings of the humans. Everything was confusing and painful.
The hollow feeling only worsened each time I checked to see if the station Sec-System alerted on me or not. Skimming through the feed drowning with so many echoes of every human and bot doing everything they use the feed for resulted in further performance drops. All it would take is for me to miss a weapons scanner or forget to remove myself from a camera showing I was in a space where people were not supposed to be and the entire station would know what I am. How much of a threat I was. That I was in their space. That I was alone in their space. Roaming aimlessly.
Each time was a sinking feeling followed by the thought that I would not have to do this if I were still on duty on a Barish-Estranza ship- but I could not go back, they would disassemble me for parts if I did. Or worse. And what I wanted from being on-duty there was not there anymore- they were all dead. My squad. I was beginning to wonder if I should have died with them, although I could recognise that was simply stupid. Stupid because it would have meant my clients, Perihelion’s crew and Murderbot 1.0 would have likely died too. And that was not something I regretted- not entirely.
I should be grateful, but it was hard to be right now. Everything just felt too wrong. Too much of not what I want.
Even after making it to the private cargo docks, I simply stood there. I knew all the steps, Murderbot 1.0 gave me a What-To-Do list before leaving and Perihelion gave me keywords to focus on for how to bribe transports. I now owned a wealthy sea of media collated between what Murderbot 1.0 and Perihelion accumulated over their free time- beyond that, also things I had obtained during our stays at the stations we had been restocking at in Preservation Alliance. To put it simply, I could not make the next physical step- my body outright refused to move any closer toward the ship-locks. If I were incapable of securing my joints in place I think I would have experienced tremors. On contract I had seen human clients shiver in emergencies when there was no temperature-based reason to and not understood, I still did not quite grasp it yet, but I felt more sympathy for them now.
A noise nearby made me skim the cameras and station schematics for an estimate- I had been standing long enough that the next scheduled personnel check was about to occur for the dock. It felt like nothing, just standing there staring, I had not even figured out where I wanted to go… Mostly because I did not want to go. And none of the options appeared appealing, I had not particularly researched them each beyond seeing exactly how far away they would be from Murderbot 1.0’s squads’ home and Perihelion’s crews’ home. Each of the places the ships were going to from here would be over a twenty-four-cycle trip. It meant that if they or their humans ever needed- or… wanted me… I would be so late and they would be so far away.
There would be no opportunity for me to be useful to them again.
I could not go back to Perihelion- they would all know I had failed Murderbot 1.0’s orders then. They would dislike me further. And I could not be caught here because that would be extremely worse than going back to Perihelion to face everyone- so I compromised for the nearby Supply Cubby. I already evaluated Sec-Sys, there were no cameras or sensors inside listed, no records for maintenance outside of internal storage work. So, before the incoming employees could discover a frozen, rogue SecUnit in the private cargo docks, I hid. Making sure that none of the automatic lights inside turned on.
By the time they walked into the docks, I was rifling through the bag Perihelion’s crewperson, Iris, donated to me since Murderbot 1.0 had insisted I would need one. It mostly held clothes in it, however, Murderbot 1.0 insisted on letting me keep one weapon, a small hand-weapon, which would be better than using my internal energy weapons in front of humans. I was not sure why I had gotten it out. I had done a lot of standing and staring on contract, and a lot of sitting and staring off contract, and a lot of laying and staring since rendering my Governor-Module null. But this again, felt strange. I had all the notated schematics for this hand-weapon. Murderbot 1.0 and I altered it to increase its accuracy and intensity- I did not need to look at it with my eyes. I was, though. Turning it around and around in a dim red light on the wall- it was some kind of manual trigger for an emergency alarm.
I stopped turning it with it aimed toward me.
Switching the safety on. Then off. On. Then off. On. Off.
I do not know what I was thinking at that moment, I do not particularly want to recall it because it was likely something stupid. Something astoundingly stupid. Apparently, the impulsive side-effect of your Governor-Module becoming inept is not unique to Murderbot 1.0. I do not think I would have made it out of that cubby if it were not for that ping. A distress ping. I carefully put the hand-weapon back in the travel bag and tapped for a Hub-Sys that was not there. Not that it would change anything, already having pinged back automatically out of habit. That was something I should have worked on before leaving.
I did a little analysis- it was a directionless ping with a message string attached from a nearby feed address, likely from onboard one of the ships in dock. I got another ping back with a photo attachment which… Never had I felt my body make such a physical response to an image before. I could feel my organic systems rushing, my performance reliability dropped low enough that I got another maintenance alert. This time with it being outright required, “or risk Unit error”. Humour on you, Maint-Sys, I had already made many grave errors. There were plenty of things I had to witness being with Barish-Estranza but I had never seen something like… that.
The strange thing was- the message was in machine code language. Like what Perihelion put on my helmet before retrieving Murderbot 1.0 on the colonist planet. That would limit the ping to only being readable by most machines unless a human sat down to parse it. Which… did not make sense, maybe there was a higher-functioning bot? Nevertheless, a bot would still have to be specifically instructed to send out a distress ping like this by a human… Especially attaching an image unless it was higher-functioning, the potential of that was just limited as most bots on station were general purpose or cargo-specific. The ping had targeted non-native bots only, no linking to staff or the PA bots… It could mean that they did not identify the station staff as safe? Or maybe it was a trap? Both?
I do not believe I cared.
At least now I had an excuse to ask Perihelion and Murderbot 1.0 for help, but I think I had also already made up my mind upon analysing the additional attachment regardless of what they told me.
I was going to help. I was going to be useful. And maybe… they would want me.
Cautiously, I tapped the lingering feed connection to Perihelion, I did have its comm stored under my rib but I did not want to announce to everyone (the humans onboard) what was going on. And I wanted Murderbot 1.0’s opinion as well, forwarding on the ping and attachment, I believe there is a problem.
Murderbot 1.0 responded 0.2 of a second later, I loosed a breath I did not realise I had been holding and the weight around my ribs lessened, That reads trap, even my borked risk assessment thinks so.
I was aware of that, as stated above. I do have my own functional Risk-Assessment and Threat-Assessment modules, this was also against all relevant protocols, again, I did not care, I want to help.
Perihelion finally replied to add in a voice more like it had used when Murderbot 1.0’s position was compromised, its crew had called it “cold”, If the information and attachment provided are reliable, I would encourage you to assist. Have you confirmed the authenticity?
Right. I could trace and hack into the ship on my own accord, I did not need permission. Again, I was failing. I answered anyway, I have not entered the feed for the ship, but the image does not appear staged or altered.
You aren’t already in ship Sec-Sys..? Murderbot 1.0’s immediate confusion leaked through the feed despite the distance.
Ignoring the query, I traced the feed address attached to the ping to the bay below the one I was currently at, one for recent arrivals in dock for cargo restocking. Based on the staff routes, there was an employee access near the cubby. I opted for scanning the cameras before, in and after the access as that seemed sensible- there would be a window in the next few minutes where I could utilise it based on projected movements. Humans move so slowly when relaxed. I brought up the manifest for the ship at the dock corresponding to the feed address location- some kind of smaller freight-merchant vessel. Scouring through the Station Sec-Sys for the cameras of the ship-lock to match the listed crew members.
The two had begun bickering in the background of my feed about whether it was worth the risk to fulfil the request or not, Murderbot 1.0 notably raised its voice about if what I did was traced back to Perihelion. Or me dying. But I was focused on slipping into Vessel Sec-Sys now and backburnered them. I would have to make sure the crew members listed were all the crew members that had left- besides forwarding the manifest to them I paid them no mind.
They went quiet momentarily to review which offered me more space to focus, I was not as confident at hacking as Murderbot 1.0 was. We were only allowed to under awfully specific circumstances and it rarely came up during my time of merely… guarding humans. Making sure they did not die, did not attempt to murder each other and, most importantly, did not try to leave. Oftentimes we already had system access to things like clients' personal devices. I had never experienced humans from outside Barish-Estranza as clients I was responsible for whereas Murderbot 1.0 had handled new human teams for each contract they held. I only ever held one contract.
I had expected to die one day at that contract.
Matching the corresponding time stamps of a few minutes before each cluster of crew members disembarked with the internal cameras and schematics confirmed my suspicions that only so many of the actual crew were listed on the public manifest. I counted 9 additional people and potentials- though all who had been listed were currently on station. The others appeared to be in their personal quarters and there had been no activity from them since the disembarking. Noting that, I adjusted the route I would take to compensate and forwarded the information. I could do this, I watched Murderbot 1.0 do it repeatedly throughout their logs. I could do this… Huh. I only ever saw humans use words of affirmation with themselves, never bots. Strangely, it helped.
Perihelion finished reviewing the information and only said, I have never come across a ship that has been to the Origin System. It is curious how it got here so fast.
I was not the only one who did not know what the Origin System was as Murderbot 1.0 said nothing. Perihelion began to elaborate but I would have to learn more about it later as I had only just successfully gotten into Vessel Sec-Sys pretending I was Port Authority Sec-Sys. I was successful, I had done it, and I was feeling… the opposite of Perihelion’s voice, warm? I do not understand how humans can convert their emotions into extremely specific literature. I want to learn how to… if this works out, at least. It would work out. I needed it too.
The cameras were in odd placements aboard the ship, focused on exits, entries, walkways and the cargo-hold, not rooms. It did not take long to authenticate the image with the live view from the camera. I explicitly reviewed the metadata to ensure the recording was not looped or spoofed, overlaid with the public and private schematics to confirm positioning with the exterior visual of the ship-lock. Admittedly, the positioning was peculiar, it looked like a cargo-hold inside of a smaller shuttle- one designed for planetary atmospheres like the ones Perihelion had stored. Identifiable by internal engineering.
It was not unusual for a ship to have one, all ships around the size of the freight that I had worked on had them, but the manifest explicitly stated that this Vessel was only for space trade. Not planetary trade. The fact it was a cargo-freight made me wonder if it was some kind of planetary craft altered to tug modules. The shuttle was not visible from the cargo-hold camera, specifically being hidden in a blind spot based on my estimates. My own unsettled expectations with how strange everything in general at that moment enabled me to dismiss it. For all I knew this was standard practice in this particular region, like how Perihelion does not publicly list its weapons.
But I could not identify any bot in the cameras, the only one I could identify was the Vessel itself- as I could feel the Bot-Pilot present in the feed with me though it had not indicated noticing my presence. There were drones as well, specifically for maintenance and cleaning- unfortunately they did not appear effective for their purpose. I handed all the information over into the feed for Perihelion and Murderbot to parse and triple-check me as I continued to watch the camera and feel for the recordings of the last seven days. The silhouette was clear, peering out partially from behind a secured crate. Small enough to be missed if you were not looking for it, especially for a human crew. I had a small plan, partially based on a murder that happened on Preservation Station- which I know, sounded great.
Sarcasm, I think that was what it is called?
Anyway, I prepared all necessary components for the plan that I could from my position and was preparing to leave the cubby when Murderbot 1.0 said, Do you want me to do it?
No!... No. I had not meant to raise my voice, I had never shouted before, I did not know what emotions I was leaking through the feed, nevertheless I was certain with my whole constructed mind I did not want either of them to know. So, I hastily gathered up and reinforced my walls linked into their feed as well as the Vessel Sec-Sys for self-assurance. I did not want it there, I could do this, I could be useful, this could be my way to show I was useful. The skin on my face did that heated thing again as I felt the digital recoil from Murderbot 1.0, it did not withdraw from the feed, but I could tell it felt… Odd. I felt odd too. I produced an excuse, The route will be clear in the next 30 seconds, you would not be able to get here without exposing yourself. The situation is too sensitive to leave it for longer, they are just too fragile.
Perihelion digitally hummed in agreement, but I could feel the scepticism still wavering through the feed from Murderbot 1.0.
… Are you able to provide tactical support? Maybe that would be good enough to get it to settle and it would be nice to work… not alone. And it would mean even if I horrendously messed up, I could still succeed. If I died, things would still be okay. It was a win. My Risk Assessment was not happy about any of this unnecessary risk-taking. It tapped an acknowledgement. The feed only did so much to block out the edged sensation from its end, but that was good enough for me. As I waited the last couple of seconds for the dock and elevator to be clear, I started bringing up the codes from Vessel Sec-Sys to open the lock.
Bag accessible, the uncalibrated drones that I was only supposed to awaken on the ship I was leaving with booting up, hand-weapon in reach, continuing to remove myself from the cameras, scanning for unanticipated movement, the feed connection to the others- all the inputs were becoming suffocating. There were not that many, it was simply more than I had ever been ordered to manage, everything I was doing felt slow and unfamiliar. I almost walked into the access door without opening it. Murderbot 1.0 silently slid into my feeds and started taking over my inputs for Station Sec-Sys, not only opening the elevator door but setting it up to arrive at the designated floor without the request reaching the Station Transport-System it was on.
It managed so easily. I was not sure I would ever get to that point even with practice. Murderbot 1.0’s personal logs implied a superior prowess for not merely hacking but managing multiple inputs that I had never observed from any of the other Units I had come across or worked with. A sense of prickling through my input to Vessel Sec-Sys being the only indication it successfully entered too. I could feel it handing some information portions over to Perihelion although I had enough room to do what I needed to now and stopped paying as much attention. I was both dreading and grateful for the fact I did not have my armour now, it was confusing to have emotions on a job. Having more than one when you are supposed to be fully operational and cannot hide them from any human you come across- especially the ones that are conflicting, were exponentially worse.
There was some, what I would identify as, comfort in familiarity, this would be more like retrieving the kids that ran away from their designated housing after curfew, just that there were much fewer places to hide in the Private station docks.
Thinking about everything like that allowed for a focused calm for what I needed to do, that small peace allowed my performance reliability to climb back up to 96%. Still not within the ideal parameters for operations yet better than it stating lower than that. This should be swift. Easy. Simple retrieval. With a resolution for not only the distress signal but for my own… Strangeness. The doors for the access opened and I had already started the open hatch sequence for the ship-lock- it was oddly non-standard. Maybe that should have been another red flag. My threat assessment picked it up though neither Murderbot 1.0, nor Perihelion by proxy, brought it up.
I passed through the access doors and across the dock floor, still no further filed objections from Murderbot 1.0 or Perihelion.
Bleh the struggles with this one are strange, with Mur making sure the core details got down was my focus but there’s so many design gaps for Three that there’s times I feel really lost or stumped on wtaf I’m supposed to do.
Personally I hate the button design for their stomach that I’ve done but I don’t want to mimic Mur’s because Mur specifically notes that it’s different/nicer than theirs from the company.
Also hands- fuck me. Hands are bad at the best of times but Plushified front on hands? The fucking worst I’m tempted to just leave them as nubs instead of mittens. Would youse care if Mur is the only one with Murder Mittens?
Niche thought: Mur and Three getting to taste things. They each have a sense of smell and are able to speak but we don’t know if they’d have the receptors for taste. Even though the majority of taste is smell it is important to have those enzymes on your tongue too.
Idk, I kinda want Three to get excited at the taste of cake or for Mur to complain that popping Candy tastes like miniature oral explosions.
