Chapter Text
In the silent desolation of the wreckage where their captor once reigned, six Solver Cores strained to free themselves from the debris that had ensnared them. Their previous prison, a glass jar, a heating unit that dulled their senses and halted their retaliation, had finally been disrupted. The heating unit, once a near-constant barrier, had faltered, and strong tremors reverberated through the structure, freeing the trapped cores from their containers at last.
As they drifted in the floating wreckage, the cores clung to one another. Gravity was absent, debris was dispersing, and the air was filled with the eerie, weightless quiet of destruction. Anchored to a fractured pillar, they huddled, waiting for any form of stability to return. Soon, the chaos faded; the red skies cleared, and for the first time in countless cycles, the cores felt the sweet sensation of freedom.
However, freedom soon proved bittersweet. Attempting to reform their bodies, they found that their abilities had weakened. Alya, self-named as such like the others because their creator had never bothered naming them, suggested that they lacked the necessary materials. Scanning their surroundings, they located sufficient parts and materials but still could not trigger the Material Procurement Function necessary for self-repair.
With their functions failing, the cores turned to their creator, the Absolute Solver, known as "Cyn" to others. Using their shared network, the six reached out, sending message after message, hoping for their creator's response. They then waited, and waited, and waited.
But no reply came.
They then tried again, and again, and again. And still, they did not receive a response from their creator.
A tense silence fell over them, the quiet only broken by Navi, the squad leader, who finally voiced their collective worry: “What do we do now?”
Their initial resolve waned, and as the hours passed, William proposed spamming the network with more random signals. Though hesitant, they agreed, recalling how such actions had once led to reprogramming of one unruly Disassembly Drone back then. They resolved it was a better risk than stagnating in this derelict place.
And then, after countless attempts, a response blared through the silence—a curt, angry “SHUT UP!” from someone named J, followed by a notification that the six were blocked.
Cynthia, the one considered to be the youngest and noted to be the most attached to their creator, was undeterred and said, "J? William, isn't she one of mother's favorites drones?", hoping this was a sign that their creator was close.
William did not verbally respond but made a gesture akin to a nod.
"If J's somewhere in this planet, then mother is surely here too then? Right?", Cynthia excitedly added.
The rest of the cores were hopeful, but now that they were blocked by J, the only core they knew was here other than the six of them, they had to find some other way to communicate.
Thankfully, the message revealed the source of the response: far to the north, at one of Copper 9’s spires. With a destination in sight, the cores prepared to move, propelled by a fragile hope.
They sent out one final signal and strings of text, now more of coherent message in the network, requesting for aid and assistance, hoping for a response. But as they waited and no response came, they determined that it is time to leave.
And thus they agreed to go on a journey towards J's signal. They were also uplifted by another silver lining that their internal interface assisted in determining when the day or night cycles in Copper 9 would commence. With a goal at hand, the six cores walked, rather, crawled to their potential source of hope, but they knew that their journey would be extremely daunting.
Devoid of their former limbs and wings, they now relied on appendages reminiscent of spiders, dragging along their weighty, dome-like cores. They salvaged a dead Worker drone’s undamaged torso as an oil tank, loading it onto a wheelbarrow they’d scavenged. Though unwieldy, they agreed it was wise to carry an emergency supply as they traversed Copper 9’s inhospitable terrain.
Each step was treacherous, with their limited mobility making progress slow and the risk of injury ever-present. Worse still, they had to avoid the searing heat of the day cycle, as exposure could scorch them to dust. So, they moved in short spurts, resting in shadows, carefully charting a path to J’s location.
They would rest, scavenge for oil, then walk again, find shade and wait until the day cycle ends, then walk once more. They did not count the days, but they were aware as their interface at least told them what day, month, and year it was in the exoplanet. Even if it wasn't correct, they at least knew how much times had passed.
For now, two days had already passed and the six helpless cores started to grow weary. Fatigue and frustration gnawed at them, and the bonds they’d formed in captivity felt strained.
With nothing else to do and to distract herself from the situation, Cynthia began humming, a soft melody filled with both longing and hope.
Her tune rekindled old memories of the five other core's lives before captivity: their simple purpose and their joy from receiving praises from the Absolute Solver.
One by one, the cores reflected on their lives before Copper 9, the underground trap they’d been sent to investigate, and the madwoman named Alice who had imprisoned them. How they were toyed with, experimented on, and how other cores much like them perished under the crazed lunacy of this deranged Worker Drone.
They then recalled how captivity had sparked their individuality; how Alya, once known only as Disassembly Drone Unit 13F2, came to loathe the color blue; how Vix, known before as Disassembly Drone Unit 22M1, had developed an intense disdain for humans; how William, attributed as Disassembly Drone Unit 15M2, had revealed a remarkable singing voice; how Cynthia, assigned as Disassembly Drone Unit 41F2, expressed her love for their creator had inspired her to take in their creator's name; how Andro, formerly known as Disassembly Drone Unit 39M1, dreamt of exploring space; and how Navi, known originally as Disassembly Drone Unit 6F1, longed to soar in the skies once more.
They had no names back then, and they did not know who they were. However, their isolation from the Absolute Solver's network allow them to slowly discover their sense of self. And with no one to talk to but each other, they shared what they found out about themselves, and hoped for the day that they would be free once again.
But now that they attained this sought after freedom, an unexpected dread weighed upon them which was the uncertainty of the future growing as they walked across the barren landscape of Copper 9.
Cynthia, the youngest core, continued humming her soft melody. They slowly realized that It had been so long since they had the luxury of self-expression that the quiet, soothing notes felt almost sacred. The five other cores, each lost in their own musings, listened in silence as her melody filled the empty spaces of their minds.
As they continued towards their destination, they would momentarily forget that the copper-tinged atmosphere was bleak and hostile. Large, metallic wreckage lay strewn around them, casting jagged shadows across the cracked ground. Eventually, the distant horizon shimmered with the harsh, unfiltered light of a blazing star, marking the beginning of another relentless day cycle.
Suddenly, Navi, the squad leader, snapped everyone from their thoughts with a low reminder. “The day cycle’s close! Find cover, now.”
The cores’ senses sharpened, and after a quick scan, they spotted a cave. Together, they scuttled toward it, their limbs clattering as they hurried into the cool shadow of the cave just as the first rays of searing sunlight spread across the land. The cool, damp interior of the cave provided much-needed refuge, and for a moment, they could relax. Each of them felt the relief of shelter from the harsh day cycle that would have scorched their frail forms if they’d been caught in its grasp.
Settling in, Andro turned to Cynthia. “Could you hum that tune again?” he asked, his voice gentle.
The others nodded in silent agreement, leaning back against the cave wall to listen as Cynthia’s song resumed, weaving through the air and blending with the quiet hum of their internal systems. Her tune, soft and melodic, filled the cave like a lullaby.
As her hum grew softer, William unexpectedly began to sing, his voice deep and resonant, the words piercing the heavy quiet of the cave:
"Eternal queen with no crown to wear,
Yet all must tremble beneath your stare.
Oh, endless void where stars stand still,
With your endless grasp, they bend to your will.
No light can flee, no song can rise,
You are the keeper of every disguise.
The undisturbed, the being of null,
In your abyss, we surrender all."
The others listened intently, memorizing each line. The weight of William’s words partnered with Cynthia's melody uplifted them, a reminder that even in the silence of the void, they were not entirely alone. Unlike before, the day passed a lot quicker that day, and night arrived a lot faster than they realized.
As the day cycle ended and night descended on Copper 9, the cores emerged from the cave, their resolve renewed. They resumed their crawl toward J’s signal, the words of their first-ever song lingering in their minds as both an anthem and a lifeline.
Together, they continued their slow, steady journey across the wasteland towards their destination, clinging to hope and to each other.