Cold Planet

by RogueBook

Summary:

First mission of SecUnit with ART and its crew.
Objective: find the colonists on a planet that doesn’t believe in functional weather before the corporates do, and gather the information needed to prevent the repossession of the planet.

Chapter 1: Contact

I was sitting against the wall of a cave, monitoring our surroundings while playing World Hoppers in the background. So far so good, right? Well, not really.

I had been shot, my inputs were degraded and the armor on my shoulder was partially melted. Not to mention the three humans sitting around me, their bodies resting against mine asleep, all of us wrapped up in one big blanket. Me, in the middle. Yeah, it was as uncomfortable as it sounds.

How did it end up like this? Fucking mercenaries, that’s how.

I had Iris’s back against my torso, Tarik slouched against my left arm like he was trying to meld into it, and Seth against my right arm. I was, technically, a very expensive space heater.

I had activated the FirstAid protocol ten minutes ago, setting my body temperature regulation to a sustained thermal range optimized for hypothermia prevention.

Because we were stuck in a shallow cave, barely deep enough to shield us from the wind, on a planet that apparently didn’t believe in functional weather, and the temperature had dropped fast enough to trigger alarm beeps on three different environmental monitors.

Because their suits had minor breaches from the encounter (I’m going to get to that), and patching them had taken just long enough for body heat loss to become a serious risk.

Because humans are squishy, slow and inefficient and do stupid things like not carrying thermal vests on what was supposed to be a short field trip on an extremely cold planet.

And because I was the one with internal heat coils and the capacity to prevent death by freezing of the humans. So here we were. One big warm and awkward pile.

I had drones hovering at the entrance, scanning for new threats, and another squad moving in a set pattern in the immediate area to make sure nothing snuck up on us.

Tarik had stopped shivering and his eyes were closed, moving in that weird fast way that tells you a human was dreaming. Iris’s lips had lost the bluish tone and Seth was still in pain but steady. He kept murmuring something under his breath to Iris, who was pressed against me like she belonged there, but at least she wasn’t showing hypothermia symptoms anymore.

It was supposed to be a fast recon run. Two hours, maybe three, just enough to map and check out the edge of the canyon where ART’s pathfinders found a bunker entrance inside a signal dampening field that interfered with feed connectivity near the surface.

The interference vanished at forty-five meters from the ground like there was an invisible dome preventing signals from going through the barrier.

Threat assessment had flagged the area as low-threat. No native lifeforms with known predatory behavior, no recent tectonic activity, nothing threatening moving around. Probably some leftover security measure. Or a trap. (Spoiler alert: it was both)

Nothing was supposed to happen. But let me tell you, Threat Assessment was extremely wrong.

--------

This was my first mission with ART’s crew so I was kind of anxious, I wanted everything to turn out well. MineTar was a corporation specialized in mining, and this specific planet was rich in minerals used for electronic components, and they had won the bidding for the reclamation rights.

The planet had been tagged as “failed seeding project” only ten years ago and the ownership papers got lost. Since it was a recently abandoned colony, the chances of the colonists being alive were encouragingly high, and the planet still had a working transit station and communication satellite which was a good sign.

According to the logs, the drop box in the transit station was deactivated the same day the dying corporation abandoned the facility, so if the colonists were still alive, they wouldn’t have a way off the planet. (I will never understand what motivates humans to abandon other humans on a planet when letting them leave required the same amount of effort. Well, I actually do; it’s always money.)

The satellite seemed to be working properly, but the local directory where different systems addresses should be loaded to provide communication channels with other stations through the wormhole, had been wiped clean.

ART found an active signal in the satellite coming from the surface, but it couldn’t pinpoint the exact location due to the dampening field. So, after two cycles of mapping that area of the surface with ART’s pathfinders, we chose the closest landing spot outside the field, but near enough to the bunker entrance to do the distance by foot.

We landed the shuttle just outside the dampening field and, after confirming the communication was severed with the outside but worked fine for everyone inside the field, we let ART know we would be back in approximately three hours and would be off contact while inside the barrier.

Tarik and Iris took point with one of the mapping tools, and Seth stuck close to me, watching readouts and tracking the geological log. ART-drone was keeping perimeter watch next to us along with my drones, that were scouting up ahead and monitoring our surroundings.

With the falling snow, we had reduced visibility, so I had my drones in two circles around us, the inner one covering the more immediate area and the outer one giving us time to react if anything happened.

We didn’t even get halfway the bunker entrance before the feed picked up a distortion spike. Small at first, like static, but persistent. It didn’t feel like any standard signal or attempt at communication. It was more like an irregular scanning, pulse-based. Almost like it was searching for something specific. The feedback pattern reminded me of proximity mines set to trigger against drones and bots but not humans. Useful when you wanted to take out mechanical support first.

That’s when Threat Assessment spiked to 88%, finally deciding to inform me that something was wrong.

Stop moving, sent ART-drone over the feed.

The humans froze in place. What is it? Seth asked.

I sent two drones forward toward the signal to triangulate. Five seconds later, I lost both signals.

Something’s here, I said. I was already filtering visual input through three different spectrums and running a detection sweep. Hold position.

Then the drones’ audio feed snapped to white noise, and my internal buffer lit up with error codes I hadn’t seen since the last time someone tried to fry my systems with an EMP burst.

ART-drone’s signal was cutting out. Retreat, it sent, its voice breaking.

I had already marked a fallback point on the map, a cave we had come across five minutes ago, and sent it to the team. We’re heading back. Now.

I felt another pulse, stronger this time, targeted at our exact position. Alerts were flooding my interface again and my visual and audio inputs were disrupted by static. I lost ART-drone’s signal and heard it hit the ground.

Yeah. That was the moment things officially started going wrong.

There was a vibration beneath us, then a sudden jolt, and the ground beneath started to give way.

Tarik shouted something in a language I didn’t recognize and, by the time I reached Iris, the whole ground was crumbling beneath her feet. I grabbed her by the harness and yanked her back just in time.

Dust exploded everywhere. Visual feed down to 30%. Auditory sensors overloaded with static.

“Fall back!” I shouted, trying to bring the interfaces back up. No point, they were fried. “Now.”

Tarik had already started dragging Seth behind a rock just big enough to provide cover. Iris was coughing, trying to catch her breath. She’d lost her helmet seal and her suit’s internal temps were dropping fast. I grabbed an emergency seal from one of the side pockets of her backpack and slapped it over the breach. Then I pushed her toward Tarik and turned to scan the area.

Movement. Not from the hole that just opened beneath where we were standing twenty seconds ago, but from above it.

A cluster of metallic spheres unfolded from the canyon wall. Drones. Corporate recon type. Armed.

I pulled the projectile weapon from my back and opened fire.

Two went down in the first burst. The others scattered and returned fire, targeting me, allowing Tarik to guide Seth and Iris out of the line of fire. Their aim algorithms were off, which gave me time to run some quick analysis on them and to redirect some drones to each human and recall the others to my position to draw fire. The ones that were far enough to not get fried with the EMP at least.

“Run. Now.”

Iris started saying “SecUnit—” but I didn’t let her finish.

“I said run.”

I took a shot to the left shoulder and upper arm. My vision flickered; minor damage, armor holding. I shifted position, returning fire, to cover the humans’ retreat while trying to ignore the fact that my own suit temp was rising. The weapon discharge wasn’t normal. These drones were carrying something heavier than standard projectile loads. Plasma bursts, maybe. Old but dangerous.

When I finally made it to the cave after the last hostile drone went down, my armor was scorched in the shoulder, and my left side was registering partial mobility failure.

Tarik was guarding the entrance of the cave with his rifle ready and Iris was checking Seth’s oxygen mix. His suit had taken a hit and had dust and snow inside. Nobody was bleeding. Except me, that is.

Before entering the cave, I announced myself aloud to avoid getting shot by Tarik. With the interfaces down I had no way to tell them I’d destroyed the hostile drones and was coming back until I was already there.

Seth had stopped coughing. His breath was shaky and shallow, but he was still breathing. He was doing a good job of keeping it from showing in his face, but his readings showed me he was in a lot of pain.

I went to him and started pressing with my hands. Tarik and Iris watched me, confused. Neck, arms, upper torso, ribs—ribs. Seth let out a groan, his face twisting in pain. I focused both hands on the spot, touching him as gently as I could. I pulled up the drone’s feed; when the rock cracked, a piece shot into Seth’s side. It had pierced the suit and broken his rib, but at least it didn’t cut the skin, though it was already turning blue and looked painful.

“You have a broken rib.” In times like this I always miss my connection to MedSystem to tell me what to do. Having my humans hurting is always stressful.

“Tarik, keep watch.” I knew him well enough by now to know that if I gave him an order, he’d follow it without questioning.

I picked the MedKit from the backpack Seth had left on the ground, opened his suit, applied a Wound Pack to his ribs, patched the tear in the suit and sealed it back up. I managed to do it in 32 seconds. The temperature loss should be minimal, and the air filtration was working again.

“That will help with the pain but you shouldn’t move more than necessary until we get you into MedBay.”

Iris was checking on him, but then she looked around and asked, “Where’s Peri?”

“The EPM shut it down.” I said already positioning myself between the humans and the entrance, checking the feed from the drones I left outside. I lost 65% of them.

There were no more movement or new signals outside. No reinforcements. But something didn’t feel right. I didn’t like it and Threat Assessment was suggesting to move. Not that I trusted it too much, but my organic parts were telling me the same thing and they were usually right about these things.

“Is it—?” Iris was looking at me.

If everything had gone according to plan, and ART-drone had reached ART-prime’s range at the end of the recon, they would have integrated and merged their logs. No detail from the survey or what it experienced would have been lost. But since it was taken out by an EMP, the chances of ART-prime recovering the logs were close to zero.

Even if it was a copy of ART, and the original was still alive in orbit, the fact that a part of it was dead felt horribly depressing and anxiety-inducing. Like when I had to kill 2.0. It was a copy of me sure, but it was still its own person.

I need to stop thinking about this and focus on getting us out of here.

“It’s dead,” I said, with an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. “We’ll pick it up on our way out.”

If it weren’t for my organic parts, I’d be lying dead next to ART-drone right now.

Iris opened her mouth a little as if to say something, but closed it, then close her eyes and took a deep breath.

I checked on Seth’s suit readings. The air was clean and holding pressure.

“That was a scout group.” I said.

“You think there’s more coming,” Iris said.

I nodded. Of course there were more coming.

Tarik looked at me. “We don’t have the supplies to hold out here if another wave shows up.”

I knew that too. I was scanning the topography, trying to estimate the fastest route to the high ground we’d marked while in orbit. This was our best option to reestablish communication and get extracted, even if it meant crossing a wide stretch of exposed rock. We didn’t have time to look for a better option. Because going back to the shuttle wasn’t an option anymore. They knew we were coming, which meant they probably knew where the shuttle was and they would expect us to go back there. We had to move.

I checked on the humans. Their temperatures were low, but if the patches in their suits held, they should regain the lost heat.

Tarik looked at me and asked, “Why didn’t the drones go for us? They completely ignored us.”

“They were targeting me. Probably had an algorithm preset to ignore life signs until the mechanical support went down first.” Luckily their aiming was crap. I hate luck, it means I don’t have control of the situation.

He muttered a curse. “They knew we were coming.”

My damage report was still climbing: minor overheating, joint stiffness in the arm, degraded vision, reduced hearing. Nothing critical, but really problematic in a hostile situation when trying to protect humans.

Tarik narrowed his eyes, looked back at the others, then walked closer to me and asked quietly, “Are you okay? You’re blinking a lot.”

I hadn’t noticed the blinking since I was mostly using the drones to see now.

My first instinct was to lie, but Tarik should know. “The EMP damaged my visual and audio inputs. My system is trying to correct them.”

Not that there was anything my system could do about the fried sensors, so I killed the auto-calibration process for my eyes and the blinking stopped. There was no point in worrying Iris and Seth unnecessarily. I ran a system-level diagnostic and started a low-level coolant purge for my shoulder actuators.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

I had to suppress another impulse to lie. It was really, really hard to give an honest status of how damaged I was to the humans I was protecting. I went for honesty again. “Vision is down to 59% and audio to 63%, but I’m using the drones to compensate.”

He was giving me the I’m-not-buying-that-you’re-okay-but-there’s-nothing-I-can-do-about-it look, but didn’t say anything and just nodded.

The scout drones showed me the terrain ahead of us narrowed into a split path. One led into a high rock funnel, a kill zone if anyone was waiting. The other wound steeply upward with no cover.

Both options sucked.

“I’ll do a quick recon,” I said.

Tarik opened his mouth to argue but I cut him off.

“If I get hit again, I’ll be faster if I’m alone.” I looked at Iris and added, “You’ve got five minutes. When I’m back we move.”

Iris looked at me, “Understood.”

I stepped out of the cave, shifting my internal power draw to core systems. No chatter, no data pings, no motion. Either the rest of the scout group had pulled back, or they were lying in wait.

I deployed two drones. One stayed low, scanning for movement in the snow. The other moved high to get visuals on the terrain, feeding me a lagged but wide-angle map of the slope. A thin line of ice shimmered against one wall where water had frozen in run-off trails. Too easy to slip, even for me.

Behind me, I could still feel the humans, three warm signals clustered behind a rock wall. Their temperatures weren’t rising fast enough. And Seth’s vitals were holding, but once the painkillers administered by the Wound Pack wore off, he would be in a lot of pain again.

The upper slope showed no movement, but it was the best place to prepare an ambush. I paused, switched one drone to passive, and waited. Twenty seconds passed and then a shadow moved along the higher ridge.

Got you.

I marked the motion vector and pulled the drone back before it could get traced. Whoever was watching had good equipment and decent instincts, but they were still holding position. No follow-up or pursuit. Maybe waiting for backup.

Fine. That worked for me. I returned to the others, picking up ART-drone on my way back.

“West ridge is occupied. Probably a spotter,” I said. “No aggressive movement yet.”

Iris didn’t look up from where she was finishing patching a hole in the leg of Tarik’s suit. When she did, I noticed the corner of her mouth twitch when she saw ART-drone.

Tarik said, “Then we’ve got to move now, before they get bored.”

“Agreed,” I said. I tied ART-drone to Seth’s field pack and signal them to follow me. “Let’s go.”

They were all still in one piece. Let’s keep it that way.

Chapter 2: FirstAid Protocol

I took point, climbing the slope that overlooked the ravine. The wind hadn’t eased up; it cut sideways across the rock. The humans followed in single file, Iris half-supporting Seth, who was moving like his limbs didn’t entirely belong to him, and Tarik, with Seth’s field pack slung over one shoulder, covering the rear.

They were cold but didn’t complain.

I had most of my drones ahead of us and the rest covering our sides and back. We couldn’t afford another surprise. I wasn’t picking up any signatures beyond our own, but the terrain was bad for sensors; uneven rock, snow buildup, and narrow gullies that swallowed sound and heat. And if I knew anything about scout groups like the one that ambushed us, it was that they were never alone for long.

Seth slipped once and Iris caught him, her jaw tightening. I checked her vitals. Her heart rate was steady but her temperature had dropped another half degree. Her face was pale and her lips already had a bluish tone to them. Not good. We’d been walking for almost two hours now.

“We need shelter”, I said loud enough for them to hear me with all the wind.

“There should be a break in the rocks up ahead”, Tarik answered, breathless. “Might be a cave system. We passed some markers on the way in.”

He was right. I ran a quick overlay of our recon map. It wasn’t much, just a few contour lines and vague notes from a drone flyover two planetary cycles ago. But there was a dip in the canyon face, half obscured by elevation and trees. It was a good position.

Ten minutes later, we reached the cave. The opening wasn’t wide, just enough for a human to squeeze through if they ducked a little, but the rock was hollow behind it, a tunnel carved by wind or water. I scanned it. No threats, wildlife or traps. It wasn’t perfect, but it was dry, shielded from the worst of the wind, and big enough to rest without exposure.

We entered, Seth struggling as he ducked through the opening.

“We’ll stay here for now; you need to rest.” I said, moving to a corner and sitting with my legs crossed. “I’ll generate heat. Get close.” I initiated the FirstAid protocol, took off my jacket, folded it, and put it over my legs.

Tarik muttered, “You sure?”

“Do you want to freeze to death?”

He hesitated for a second but took a collapsible thermal net and sealed the entrance of the cave, while Iris lowered Seth gently to the ground next to me. He exhaled like his ribs hurt. Probably because they did. Tarik shook off the snow and sat down on my other side leaving the field pack against the wall. He was shivering.

Iris pulled the blanket out of her pack with shaky fingers but then hesitated, glancing at Tarik and Seth. They’d already settled on either side of me.

"You’ll sit here," I said, pointing at the jacket over my legs. "You’re one degree from hypothermia. You’ll warm up faster closer to my chest."

She looked at me hesitantly for 2.3 seconds, which was long enough for me to realize that not minding me being close didn’t equal wanting this much contact. But then she said, “Hmm… You hate physical contact.”

Oh… her hesitation wasn’t about not wanting to touch me. She was being careful, because she knew I wouldn’t like it.

“I also hate when humans die from hypothermia.”

I looked at her shoulder and said flatly, “Don’t argue. Sit.”

Still hesitating, she stepped over and sat on my legs, carefully arranging the blanket to drape over all of us. She didn’t lean against me, though. She was deliberately keeping her upper body just barely clear of mine, trying to touch me as little as possible.

On the drone’s feed, I could see Seth watching us, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and confusion.

I put my hands on Iris’s shoulders and guided her back until she was resting fully against my chest. The back of her head against my right shoulder and my cheek only two centimeters from her left temple.

She stiffened for a moment, then slowly let herself relax and grabbed Seth’s hand.

I could feel the tremors in her frame and the tension in her spine. I didn’t know if she was trying to be respectful or just didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. I appreciated the thought but right now it was unnecessary. I’d hate it if any of them died, not to mention what it would do to ART.

“I need thirty minutes to run repairs on some of the damage I took,” I said. “Try to sleep. If anything changes, I’ll wake you up.”

Tarik mumbled something like “Got it”, Seth gave a tiny nod and Iris shifted a little closer, resting her head on my shoulder.

I set an alert watch across all channels and stopped my not-a-SecUnit code so I could be completely still and wouldn’t wake them up.

Their breathing started to slow some minutes later.

I rerouted most of my attention to internal diagnostics and queued the self-repair routines. I played some of ART’s favorite episodes of World Hoppers in the background to take my mind off all the human contact.

Fourteen minutes into the repair cycle, my shoulder temperature alert finally cleared, but my visual and audio inputs were still degraded. I would need the MedBay to fix that.

I could try to improve the percentages but it would take longer and require more processing capacity (which I was using to monitor our surroundings), so I had to half-ass the repairs for now. 64% visuals and 67% audio would have to be enough.

The plasma hit had scorched the exterior plates more deeply than I’d thought, and one of the insulation layers in my arm was partially melted. I’d need real tools to fix it, but I could manage the stiffness for now.

The wind had died down a little, but not enough for long-range sensors to regain full accuracy. So I ordered the drones to extend the perimeter by another twelve meters, and sent two to scout the path we should take north.

The humans were still asleep. Tarik had slouched sideways and Seth’s breathing was even, but shallow; the painkillers were wearing off. Iris was the only one vaguely awake; her heart rate had risen slightly, and I could tell from the micro-movements of her shoulders that she was trying not to fidget, but her temperature was finally within healthy range.

I focused on the terrain map again, overlaying the recon logs with my current scan data. We were fourteen kilos from the high ground where the signal dampener reached its altitude limit, but the canyon systems here were unpredictable, and the elevation gain was steep. In these conditions, it would take us about ten hours to get there, not counting a rest stop.

If we moved now, we’d lose visual navigation, but waiting until the day cycle seemed like a worse option, given that we didn’t know how close the hostiles were, if they were following us. And they were definitely following us.

I marked the path we’d follow, scanning for potential ambush zones in the immediate area.

Iris stirred slightly. “SecUnit?”

“Still clear. Go back to sleep.” I said softly so as not to wake the others.

“Are your wounds better?” She was looking at me, her face just a few centimeters from mine. The organic skin on my back and neck prickled uncomfortably.

“Yes, but I’m still working on it.”

“They’re still tracking us, aren’t they?”

I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a rhetorical question so I answered. “If they are, they’re doing it passively. There’s no active signal, but I don’t think we’re safe yet.”

Her arms twitched under the blanket. I ordered the two scouts to return to the cave and keep watch at the entrance.

“We’ll move soon”, I said. “Until then, stay warm and let your body recover”. Her heart rate dipped again.

Fifteen minutes later, I was rechecking my map overlays for the sixth time and getting ready to wake up the humans when I received a proximity alert. I stopped World Hoppers.

The signal was very faint, just enough to register on the outer edge of the drone’s range. Not fauna.

I rerouted the feed directly to my buffer and enhanced the playback. Four heat signatures moving slowly. One of them paused to gesture to another.

“Iris”, I said quietly, “Wake up”.

She blinked awake, disoriented for half a second. Then her posture tensed.

Seth stirred too, blinking groggily. “What—”

“Hostiles approaching.” I cut in. “Four humans, fifty-two meters out, approaching from west. They don’t know where we are.” Yet.

That got everyone up.

Tarik sat up, pulling the blanket off himself, already grabbing his weapon and crouching near the entrance. “Armed?”

I really liked having him on the team. He was really efficient for a human. Corporate-learned efficiency. He might not have had a governor module in his brain, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be punished somehow for screwing things up.

“Projectile and energy weapons. And they’re moving like they’re trained.” I adjusted one drone, sweeping its audio sensors over the rocks. “They aren’t speaking either. Just hand signals.”

Iris moved quickly and silently off me, checking on Seth and tightening the fasteners of her jacket. “Do we move?”

I nodded. “Yes. Get ready.”

Seth asked, “And if they detect us?” His pain levels were rising.

“I’ll handle it”, I said, as I applied a new Wound Pack to Seth as fast as I could.

Iris had folded the blanket and tucked it into the bag, hanging it on her back. “I’m ready.”

“We move quietly, no lights. I’ll carry Seth.”

Seth groaned. “I can—"

“No. You can’t.”

I positioned myself between them and the entrance while checking the drones’ feed. Four humans, still scanning the canyon with handheld gear. One pointed north. Another shook their head.

One of them turned, sweeping a low-grade scanner in our direction. The others waited behind, silent, watching the readout.

The scanner operator took two slow steps toward our location. Then stopped and made a hand signal.

They shifted to southeast. I tracked them as they moved along the trees, leaving prints in the snow. No sign they’d noticed us. After 43 seconds, they were gone.

I gave it another ten seconds and said, “They’re moving away. Let’s go.”

Tarik was already shouldering the field pack. Iris knelt beside Seth, checking his breathing.

“We’re good”, she said.

I moved toward them and reached down. “Wait—" Seth started, but I’d already lifted him off the ground.

He tensed in my arms with a hiss of pain, but said nothing else. I adjusted his weight carefully to avoid further strain. His breathing was shallow and his heat signature was uneven because I had to open his suit again to change the Wound Pack. I kept my body heat up. It would take the painkillers about two minutes to start numbing the pain.

“We’ll have to go slow”, Iris said looking at Seth.

“No. We’ll move fast until we’re out of scanner range. Then we adjust.”

Tarik took point without being told; rifle lowered but ready. Iris followed, keeping an eye on our flanks, and I carried Seth and monitored everything else.

We moved silently through the snow, under the cover of the trees.

Tarik kept his pace steady, eyes scanning every rise and hollow. I stayed two meters behind him, adjusting my stride to keep Seth as still as possible. Iris, between Tarik and I, kept glancing back at Seth.

After twenty minutes, Iris finally said, “We’re out of range, right?”

“For now.”

She nodded, exhaling slowly. “Any idea on who they are?”

“Probably mercs. They had no markings and no comms chatter. Their movement patterns were tactical.”

Seth shifted weakly in my arms and muttered something under his breath. I would have caught that if it wasn’t for my fucked-up hearing.

I glanced down and he said, “Should’ve let me walk.”

“We needed to move fast and silently. You have at least one broken rib.”

Iris gave him a faint smile. “Dad, please. You’ll end up worse if you walk.”

“I’m not resisting, am I?"

I recalibrated the drone ahead of us and signaled a pause. Tarik stopped, crouching low. I adjusted Seth’s position and knelt behind some hedges to give the humans cover. From this point on, there were barely trees and we would be exposed. At least the falling snow would give us some cover.

Nothing but wind. Still, I ran another check before signaling the all clear.

“We’ll keep going. Less than five hours northeast there should be another cave. Good thermal cover with narrow approach. Safer than open ground.”

“Is it clear?” Tarik asked.

“Too far to tell. But we need cover and you’ll need the rest by then.”

When we reached the outer edge of the cave, it turned out it was a collapsed mine. The day cycle had just begun and the light was faint, which made the interior of the mine creepier than what it was. Which was already creepy enough.

I put Seth down gently and turned off the FirstAid protocol. I scanned the entrance, found the most stable section and cleared the loose rocks until the gap was wide enough. I ducked inside and checked structural integrity before waving them in.

Inside, it was damp and narrow, the air filled with old dust and a metallic scent, but there were no signals, movement, or tracks.

“We’ll rest here. Four hours, max. Then we move again.”

“Sounds good,” said Iris, already pulling off her pack and laying out the blanket. She put another Wound Pack over Seth’s ribs to help with the pain.

“There’s only one left,” she said with a little twist in the corner of her mouth.

Tarik took some packed provisions and handed them out.

I placed a thermal net on the entrance to protect us from the cold and stayed standing there watching the pale light shift outside. I sent the drones to keep watch and scout ahead.

Eleven minutes later Seth was asleep, but Tarik and Iris were just resting and talking softly. Their temperatures were dropping again, so I set alerts on the drones, sat between them and turned on the FirstAid protocol again. We still had another five hours of walking after this.

Chapter 3: Recovery

The humans were asleep, all huddled together around me. When the four hours passed, I woke them up. “It’s time to move.”

Iris woke immediately. Tarik followed with a grunt (he had fallen asleep just 38 minutes ago). Seth took longer, breathing unevenly as he sat up. My scan confirmed what I already knew: shallow respiration and an elevated heart rate due to pain. I applied the last Wound Pack. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need another one. Our next stop should be at the end of the dampening field.

They got up without complaints. I respected that, and I hated that I respected that.

I went to pick up Seth, but he said, “I would like to walk, please. My legs are stiff.”

I looked at him, analyzing his status, and nodded. He was in pain, but he’d said please, and that made it hard to say no.

I turned to the entrance of the mine and asked, “Ready?” They nodded. I’d already done a scan of the route twice in the past ten minutes.

“We follow the slope northeast for one kilometer, then up. It’s approximately five hours, less if we keep pace.” I couldn’t share the map and markers with them on the feed, so I tried to keep them informed as much as possible by telling them anything I considered they would want to know. I hoped that would help with the discomfort of being disconnected.

Maybe I should carry Seth anyway; we’d move faster. And him not feeling so much pain would be good for my anxiety levels.

Okay, let’s see how he does. I took both field packs instead, hanging one in each shoulder.

We left the mine behind. There were no trees anymore, barely bushes, and snow covered the ground in uneven patches. The wind was stronger now, tugging at clothing, stinging my exposed organic skin. The humans leaned into it as they walked, shoulders hunched. I was taking point, followed by Iris, who was helping Seth, and Tarik covering the rear.

Seth was walking slower by the minute.

I monitored his gait, noting the way his left arm clutched at his side. Every couple of steps, he clenched his teeth and his stress markers were rising.

I dropped back, told Tarik to take point, walked beside Seth, and put my arm around his back for support. Iris let go and walked slightly ahead of us.

“I’m fine.” Seth complained.

He wasn’t fine, and he knew it. We all knew it.

I kept walking next to him. After another ten steps, he staggered and groaned. Tarik stopped and turned around. Iris was looking at him, concerned.

I stopped and said, “That’s it. I’m carrying you.”

Seth blinked at me, eyes watering, either from wind or pain. “You don’t need to—”

I adjusted my stance and picked him up.

“I can carry the field packs” Tarik said.

“No, I’ll carry them.” We had put enough ground between us and the threat. I didn’t expect to need both hands free anymore, while Tarik and Iris could hardly walk in a straight line.

I balanced Seth weight between both arms and adjusted to accommodate the slope. He made a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. “I’m sorry you have to carry me. But thank you.”

Tarik gave a small nod and started again. We followed.

The wind was getting stronger as we gained altitude, and Seth turned his head against my shoulder. I could feel the tremors in his body as I walked – pain, cold, exhaustion. I hated that he was hurt and I couldn’t do anything about it. I activated the FirstAid Protocol again.

“Better, thank you.” He murmured as soon as he felt the heat.

“We’re halfway there”, I said.

The slope steepened. Tarik’s gait was heavy and deliberate, and Iris kept glancing back every few minutes. They were turning walking straight into a losing battle.

I adjusted my grip on Seth; he was trying to stay still to make it easier on me.

The humans had been quiet, barely speaking for the last 3.8 hours.

“Twenty more minutes until we reach the forty-five mark altitude”, I said.

The drones weren’t picking up anything suspicious ahead.

When we were fifteen meters away, I gestured for them to hold position behind a fallen tree while I checked the area. We should be way ahead of anyone following us, but if there was an ambush planned, it would be there.

I put Seth and the field packs down. Tarik was looking ahead, catching his breath. Iris was breathing hard, too.

“Stay down,” I added. “If something’s waiting up there, I’d rather it shoots me first.”

I moved up the ridge alone. At the top, I scanned in a full arc. No threats or drones. Line of sight to the valley was open and clear.

As soon as I reached sufficient altitude, ART was on my feed.

Where are the others? What the fuck happened?

They’re okay, I sent immediately. ART was probably losing its shit, I know I would have. After all, our last contact had been more than 14 hours ago, 11 hours longer than it was supposed to be. I signaled the humans to come. Tarik and Iris helped Seth and walked slowly up the slope. We got hit by an EMP, your drone and the interfaces got fried. The humans are on the verge of hypothermia, and Seth has at least one broken rib, but they’re okay.

I’m sending a shuttle to your location.

When the humans were close, I pointed at a drone I had in front of them and said, “ART’s watching you. I’ll relay its responses.”

“Peri, we have your drone, but it doesn’t look good.”

ART was already up to date with everything that had happened. I relayed its response: “Iris, don’t worry about that right now. I’m glad you are all okay. Martyn and Karime will be there in thirty-seven minutes.”

We stayed just below the ridgeline, shielded from the worst of the wind. I set up a basic perimeter with drones and picked the most sheltered spot that still offered line of sight to the valley. The humans didn’t argue when I told them to sit.

Tarik and Iris sat back-to-back, and Seth sat beside them. I grabbed the blanket, positioned myself with my back against Seth so he could rest on me, and wrapped us up to keep them warm. We didn’t have much cover from the wind up here, but I didn’t want to lose connection to ART. It started playing my favorite episodes of Sanctuary Moon on our feed.

It wasn’t the first time I’d used the FirstAid protocol to prevent a client from dying of hypothermia, but I’d never had to keep it on for more than an hour. Having it active for almost fourteen hours straight was more energy-consuming than I expected. I was going to need a recharge once we reached ART.

I kept watch, filtering the audio to cut the sound of the wind without losing signal fidelity. It would have sucked if, after all this walking, we ended up dead because I’d let my guard down.

They kept talking to ART and the others, using me as a middleman, which was annoying as fuck, but it helped their stress levels, which in turned helped mine.

After twenty-eight minutes, they had all gone quiet. Fourteen hours of extreme cold and stress was more than enough to leave them physically and emotionally exhausted, but their stats remained mostly stable.

While we waited, ART and I analyzed the data from my drones. Every movement pattern, heat trace, and feed echo they’d picked up during the attack, trying to identify who had sent the hostiles and why they were targeting us.

--------

The shuttle’s engine signature registered on my sensors before the humans even heard it. I pinged ART, and it sent back, Five minutes. No hostiles detected in your perimeter. Confirming safe landing zone.

When the shuttle’s engine became audible, Iris looked up at the sky. Tarik shifted slightly, straightening his back as if trying to make himself more functional. Seth kept his eyes closed, but I could tell he was alert again. The painkillers had worn off a while ago, and he was controlling his breathing to reduce the pain.

I retrieved the perimeter drones, slung both field packs over by back, and picked up Seth. He had resigned himself and didn’t complain, just winced from pain.

The shuttle broke through the clouds. Its lights cut through the snow-dimmed clearing just above our position. ART had picked a good insertion point with minimal descent and no climbing required.

The ramp extended before the shuttle had fully settled, and Martyn and Karime rushed out toward us.

“Seth,” Martyn exhaled, his face full of worry as he stopped in front of me to check on him, one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest.

Martyn’s expression deepened when Seth winced; his hand was too close to the broken rib, and the whole area was swollen and tender.

“I’m okay,” said Seth, “just in a lot of pain.” He forced a smile.

Martyn half-smiled and grabbed Seth’s hand. This was the kind of emotional display I never knew how to respond to. And with Martyn standing right in front of me, I couldn’t get out of the way, so I just stayed there holding Seth, looking at the shuttle, stuck in this uncomfortable moment.

Luckily, Iris was already close and called out to Martyn.

He let go of Seth and ran up to her, hugging her. “Oh Iris, you can’t imagine how worried we were.” He grabbed her by the waist and guided her to the shuttle.

“We’re okay, dad”, Iris said, resting her weight on him.

Karime was already helping Tarik, who was dragging his feet now. He had barely slept during the last break.

Once we were aboard, I deposited Seth on a gurney they had ready, strapped him in, and finally turned off the FirstAid protocol.

I put the field packs down, did one final scan of the perimeter before ART locked the hatch behind us, and sat in one of the seats at the back.

I let out a long, quiet breath, resting my back against the seat. Karime and Martyn glanced at me. I was too mentally exhausted to react, but when I checked the drones, I realized it hadn’t been as quiet as I thought. It had sounded too much like one of Ratthi’s sights after a long day of walking.

Whatever. I didn’t want to think about it right now. I started episode 108 of Sanctuary Moon.

As the shuttle lifted, the humans were already seated and strapped in.

“Their temps are low, but they’re not hypothermic,” Karime said, relieved while setting up warming-fluid IVs and continuing the scan for injures. “No frostbite, no tissue loss.” She looked at me, smiling. “Good job, SecUnit.”

It always felt nice when humans thanked me for doing a good job. But I still hadn’t gotten used to it, and I didn’t know how to respond, so I just nodded.

“SecUnit kept us warm,” Iris murmured, eyes shut, her head leaning against the headrest.

“I don’t think we would have survived the cold without it,” added Seth. “I got the better part of it, being carried the whole way here,” he said, trying to laugh, but it came out as a wince and a groan.

I monitored their vitals through the system. They were already improving, which was… relaxing.

I stayed at the rear of the compartment, feed synced with ART, who was watching Sanctuary Moon with me now.

“I’ve got orbital lock,” ART said over the comm after a while. “ETA eight minutes.”

ART aligned the shuttle with its internal bay and took over the airlock sequence immediately. It didn’t say anything over the feed, but the speed of the transfer told me it wanted them inside fast.

MedBay was already prepped, and I escorted the humans just to make sure they got there okay. Yes, I know—but I couldn’t help it. It had been a stressful cycle, and it was hard to override the protective drive I was still running.

Seth was awake but quiet, pupils still slightly dilated from pain and cold stress. Karime sedated him as soon as the first scan was done. One rib was broken and another cracked; there was soft tissue damage and minor internal bleeding. Easily fixable now, with access to full equipment.

Iris and Tarik had both insisted on staying near MedBay, but Karime told them firmly to eat, drink, and sleep. “There’s nothing you can do here,” she’d said, with the kind of authority that brooked no argument. “If I need you, I’ll call you. Right now, you need to sleep and recover.”

Martyn stood next to Seth until Karime assured him the surgery would be under forty-five minutes, then quietly followed Iris and Tarik to the habitation module to make sure they actually slept.

Kaede was waiting for me outside MedBay when I came out. She had her arms crossed and a portable interface in hand. “Good work out there,” she said without preamble. “We’re still going through the drone data you sent.”

We walked together to the command room. Matteo and Turi were already there

Kaede called up a three-dimensional overlay of the encounter zone, projected on the table in front of us. Red flashes marked the first incoming shots. Sensor echoes were faint, almost masked.

“Their jamming signature was clean,” ART said. “Better than standard pirate tech.”

“They knew we were there,” I said. “I think they weren’t expecting a SecUnit; that bought us enough time.”

Martyn joined us some minutes later. He didn’t look tired, but his face was drawn. He stood beside me and said, “Thank you for bringing them back safe.”

I’ve mentioned before that being thanked feels nice, but it’s also awkward. I didn’t want them to thank me, though part of me did. This is fucking confusing. I just nodded without looking at him.

We kept analyzing the drones’ data until Karime joined us. “Seth’s out of surgery,” she said. “Recovery will take a couple of days, but he’s going to be fine.”

She turned to the projection and asked, “So who the hell were those people?”

“We are looking at two likely possibilities,” Matteo said. “Corporate assets or mercenaries hired by MineTar. But something doesn’t match either profile exactly.”

ART interrupted, “Your turn on MedBay, SecUnit”

I didn’t answer. I was crosschecking the analysis results with everything I had: my local database, ART’s database, previous experiences, even the serials in my local storage space, trying to make something make sense. Something was off about the hostiles, but I couldn’t figure out what.

The humans looked at me with questioning eyes. I had taken the partially melted armor off, and with the jacket covering my shoulder and arm, there were no visible signs of needing repairs.

ART added for them, “You need to repair the damage and get a recharge cycle.”

“You’re hurt?” Turi asked. The humans probably assumed the armor absorbed all the damage. And for the most part it did, for the external physical damage at least.

“Its armor was burned in the shoulder, and it got some damage in one arm.” Martyn said, looking at my side.

“I’m fine. I’ll go once we figure out who we're dealing with.”

“You’re not fine,” said ART, irritated. “The mobility on your right side is diminished, your shoulder has burns, and the EMP took down at least 43% of your visual and audio sensors. I estimate that without the drones, you wouldn’t be able to see or hear half of what’s happening in this room. Am I correct?”

Of course it was correct, which just pissed me off. I just wanted to know who the fuck I should be angry at.

The humans were looking at me worriedly now.

Ugh. “Fine,” I said. I turned around, heading to MedBay before any of them could say anything. I knew what was coming if I stayed – the humans convincing me to go do the repairs, all concerned and full of emotions.

Asshole, I sent to ART.

You wouldn’t have gone if it was just me worrying. You really need to recharge and let me fix you.

I took off my jacket and shirt, lay down on the MedBay table, and initiated a recharge cycle while ART took care of everything else. The damage could be fix in less than three hours, but the recharge would take longer.

Almost nine hours later, when my recharge cycle ended and I returned to consciousness, the first thing I heard was ART saying, We have a problem, while sending me a compressed file of everything that had happened while I was offline.

“You should have woken me up,” I said, sitting up. I put on my shirt and jacket and went to the mess, where the humans were talking about the next visit to the planet.

I’m pleased you feel safe enough here to want to stay all broken and with low energy, but you needed a full recharge. Especially since you are going down again.

Great.

Sixty-seven minutes into my recharge cycle, three corporate transport ships arrived at the planet and went down to the surface. They had already unloaded an assembler bot and were already assembling the drilling tower and machinery necessary to start the mining operation.

From what ART and Karime had learned during the call with them earlier, a ship full of labor workers was already four cycles away. Iris tried to convince ART and Karime to find a way to free the workers once they arrived in the system, but with the contracts signed and the workers under corporate control, there was no way to do it. Not without killing or at least threatening to kill them. So, no.

It sucked, but we couldn’t help them. All we could do was try to help the colonists so they wouldn’t end up like them. We needed to find them before MineTar did.

“Welcome back,” Iris told me with a smile as soon as I opened the door to the mess. She looked so much better, all of them did. That felt nice.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t realize you were so hurt,” said Seth, “You okay?” His face was full of guilt.

“I’m fine,” I said, sitting down in one of the chairs. I changed the subject before they could push for more. “I think we should go back to the bunker too. I agree with ART, the dampening signal has to be originating from there. We need to shut that down before anything else.”

“It’s the best approach if we want to locate the colony and possible survivors without having to go through something like that again,” Said ART.

Tarik added, “Agreed. We now know what to expect; they won’t catch us by surprise next time.”

Two hours later, we had a new infiltration plan ready to execute at the beginning of the next cycle.

Chapter 4: Session Requested

We were going back down. Tarik, Iris and Karime, along with one of ART’s drone, were coming with me.

From the composite analysis of the last orbital sweeps, thermal variance and ground density mapping, there was an 87% chance that the shallow depression two kilometers east of the main bunker entrance was a secondary access. On normal-spectrum imagery, it looked like erosion or an old sinkhole. On ART’s data overlay, it looked like our best chance of getting in without tripping whatever perimeter security was still online.

We tried to cross-reference old colonial survey maps, but most of the results were inconclusive. Iris and Karime were watching the terrain under us through the shuttle’s cams. Tarik sat across from me, helmet in his lap, eyes narrowed in the way humans do when they’re imagining all the ways things could go wrong.

I was also imagining all the ways things could go wrong too, but my probability calculations were faster and more accurate.

We landed in a relatively flat clearing. I was first out and deployed my drones in a wide circle around us to scan for signals and indications of possible traps. After I cleared a 2.4-kilometer area around the shuttle, ART-drone was the next one to come out, followed by the humans.

The depression we were looking for was supposedly a hundred meters across, but with the windblown snow and irregular rock formations, it could just as easily look like everything else in this frozen wasteland.

ART-drone pinged a contact point, and I climbed the rise to check it myself. Up close, the “natural” depression was too symmetrical, with edges showing the straight-line erosion patterns of old reinforced structures. There was an almost imperceptible signal and I followed it.

This is it, I sent over the team feed. Here’s the hatchway.

The was no feed connection to it, but I found the switch for manual opening and hit it.

The hatch creaked, and a pile of snow drifted down into the gap. Warm air rushed upward.

I sent my drones down to do recon. There was a vertical staircase that descended twelve meters before hitting the tunnel floor. The air composition was breathable for humans, though it smelled stale and dusty.

I’ll go first, said ART, and went down following my drones.

It slid in, its lights cutting through the dark in sharp beams, I followed. It structure felt stable, but old. No vibration from active machinery in the walls, which was good.

The tunnel stretched ahead in a straight line.

We moved in a staggered formation: ART-drone in front, me behind it, Iris and Karime in the middle, and Tarik bringing up the rear. I kept three of my own drones ahead in the dark, feeding me information.

The humans were talking quietly about the possibility that the corporates had sent the mercenaries some cycles before our arrival to threaten the colonists, keeping them under control until they arrived and forced them to sign labor contracts. That was our best guess at the moment.

Movement sixty-three meters ahead, I said over the feed. They stopped talking.

The signature was small, faint, and moving slowly. Too slow and deliberate for a patrol drone. I adjusted the drones’ scan parameters and picked up steps on audio: humans patrolling.

We closed the distance quietly. The heat signature turned around a side corridor, vanishing from the drone’s scan range.

The profile was wrong for a civilian. The gait pattern matched someone carrying weapons and wearing armor. Old armor, judging by the uneven thermal dispersion.

My drone caught up with the human, and I sent the visual to the team feed.

The armor has no markings, Tarik sent. It has to be mercs.

I kept the drone following the human close to the ceiling to keep it mostly hidden, and fifteen minutes later, I felt a weak signal come into range.

We have an active Central System, said ART-drone on the team feed. Tracking.

I instructed my drone to follow ART-drone’s directions to move closer to CentralSystem and, as soon as I had a stable feed connection, I started rummaging through it and found a map of the installation along with its security protocols.

It was tempting to search for logs on current inhabitants (if there were any), but we would proceed with the infiltration regardless, so I closed the connection as soon as the download was complete to avoid triggering the system into alerting someone of our presence.

Hmm… no cameras or proximity sensors in this part of the facility. Not impossible, but unlikely. Even a secondary access point needs surveillance.

When I met ART, I was sure it didn’t have cameras. Maybe part of the security system was obfuscated for public access. Yes, that made more sense. But I couldn’t risk hacking it, not yet at least.

According to the facility layout, there was an access down to the living area not far from our position. I shared the map on the feed, highlighting the path we should take.

I redirected the scouting drones to the corridors we were going to use, keeping some to cover our escape rout in case something went wrong.

Less than twenty minutes later, I was detecting CentralSystem’s feed again. I made sure our feed connection was secure so we wouldn’t be detected.

The corridor sloped downward into the facility. The temperature was slowly rising, and the air was smelling cleaner, an indication of working air filtration and heating systems.

The humans had noticed too. The air doesn’t smell so bad down here, Iris said.

That’s good right? Asked Karime.

Hostile humans need oxygen and heat too. So it wasn’t necessarily good sign.

Not necessarily, said Tarik.

My drones were feeding me small red dots up ahead. The kind of heat signature humans generate. We had reached the living area. I signaled a stop.

What? Iris wanted to know.

We have four humans in the room 125 meters ahead of us. ART-drone informed them.

Karime looked thoughtful, How do we approach?

First, we need to know if they’re armed. I said.

Armed humans are dangerous. Scared, armed humans are worse. But if the mercenaries had them prisoner, they wouldn’t be armed. Still, scared humans, not as dangerous when unarmed, but still not very logical. Not that humans in normal situations were very logical either, but you get my point.

Can you tell if they are mercenaries? Karime asked.

I could connect with CentralSystem and check for cameras in the room. But if it alerted on us… that wouldn’t be good. Hacking the hatch’s security lock would definitely alert the system to our presence.

Not from here, I answered.

We walked closer to the hatch, and the drones started picking up more human heat signatures at a distance.

There are nineteen more humans farther away from the closest four. I sent.

It has to be the colonists, that’s too many for mercenaries. Tarik said.

They’re alive, Iris said relieved.

I was running probabilities. If we would be notice by the system either way, it would be smarter to be polite about it. Threat Assessment said this had only a 13% chance of being a stupid idea. ART-drone’s percentages were similar, which was a good indication.

I’m going to establish a connection to CentralSystem and request access. I said.

There was a pause, and then Tarik said, Umm… We don’t know if the mercs took control of the system. What if it alerts them?

Then I force my way in and neutralize the hostiles. More concerned looks.

We don’t know that they did. ART-drone said, backing me up. If the system is not compromised, it will want to protect the colonists, and that will give us the advantage.

I kept the security wall on the others’ feed and lowered mine.

I sent to CentralSystem, Begin session request.

The system immediately sent, System ID: LumiNa01, Session Acknowledge. Query: Identify.

ID: SecUnit. Registered with Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland (PSUMNT). Objective: Survey, assistance.

LumiNa01 took an extra second to reply, and my performance reliability dropped by half a point. Then it sent, PSUMNT = Corporation Rim?

Oh, okay. That was interesting. It was asking if we were corporates. That could be a sign that it identifies the CR as an enemy.

I sent, PSUMNT != Corporation Rim. PSUMNT = non-CR colonies assistance. Permission request: interview colonists.

It replied, Query: Proof of intent.

I sent, Permission request: upload educational/informative file.

Permission request: granted.

I sent the video we made for the contaminated site to the address attached in its last message.

It sent, Status: analyzing for malware, stand by.

After 3 minutes and 11 seconds, LumiNa01 sent, Permission request: interview colonists, accepted. Access granted.

I had kept ART updated in our secure feed, and it relayed everything to the humans. They still flinched when the hatch clanked and started to cycle open two seconds later.

If anything goes wrong, take them out, I sent to ART-drone, I’ll find my own way out. It didn’t like it but acknowledged.

I signaled the humans to move out of sight and I stepped through the hatch.

Chapter 5: Session Accepted

The room was well-lit, warm, and clean. Plants with UV lights lined both lateral walls, and tables with seating were arranged on the left side. The right side appeared to be a recreational area; pillows were scattered on the floor, along with portable interfaces and toys. Everything gave the impression of having been used until just a few minutes ago.

At the opposite side of the hatch I had come through, another hatch was closed. In front of it, a group of four humans stood on high alert. The augmented human at the front, holding a projectile weapon (PotentialTargetOne), screamed mercenary through every pore, but the probability that the three behind her were colonists was above 92%.

I was transmitting my drones’ view into the team feed.

I sent my analysis to ART-drone and asked, Am I missing something here?

We are missing something here, it replied. They are definitely acting together, but they had no way to contract mercenaries from inside the planet. And even if they could, the possibility that that’s what’s happening here is extremely low.

Being polite had worked with LumiNa01. Let’s try that with the humans.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m from the Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland. I’m here to assess the current status of the colony and render assistance if necessary.”

PotentialTargetOne said, “The Corporation doesn’t help anyone but itself. Where is your owner, SecUnit?”

I would’ve been pissed at the suggestion that I had an owner (which, okay, she had every reason to believe) if it weren’t for the confusing results of the voice stress analysis, which didn’t flag aggression but tension and wariness. And, from their body language, their stance wasn’t hostile; it was defensive.

Iris sent, I’m going in.

And before ART-drone could finish telling her what a stupid idea that was, Iris crossed the hatch and stood one step behind me on my left. I was sure ART-drone wasn’t saying anything to her now to avoid distracting her, but it was absolutely going to have a chat with her afterward. If ART didn’t, I would.

“Hello, I’m Iris,” she said. “We are not corporates. We are here to help you protect your settlement from them.”

“And that’s why you snuck in here with a SecUnit.” PotentialTargetOne said, in a tone I didn’t like.

“We tried the main door, you know. We were attacked.” Iris replied, rising one eyebrow.

After two seconds, one of the men behind asked, “If you are here to help, why?”

“Part of our work for the University consists of finding abandoned colonies that the Corporates want to salvage, and provide the colonists with the means to resist them, or to help relocate them if that’s what they want.”

They looked at her with suspicion, but said nothing.

Iris continued, “There is a salvage order for this planet, and the corporates have already sent ships to prepare the mining site. They will not try to contact you first like we did; they don’t care what happens to you. They only care about the minerals on this planet, and if you don’t agree to sign a labor contract agreement with them, they won’t hesitate to get you out of their way.”

PotentialTargetOne spoke again, “We won’t let them take the colony, they won’t be a–”

“Can you protect the colony from Combat SecUnits, CombatBots and missiles?” I cut her off, forgetting to keep my act. “Because that’s what they’ll use to get their hands on this planet.” Well, maybe not all that, but I made my point. She hesitated and looked at me in that way humans do when I don’t speak how they would expect a SecUnit to speak.

A big interface in the wall lit up and started playing the video I sent to LumiNa01. I caught the background readings of feed communication between PotentialTargetOne, the other humans, and LumiNa01. PotentialTargetOne made a skeptical look. The ones behind her looked at each other and then at the interface, where the video cycled through different scenes. They were subvocalizing.

The Central System is playing the video to them. ART-drone sent over the team feed. They’re talking with it.

I shifted most of my attention to analyzing their reactions. None of them showed markers of increasing aggression, and some even looked like what I wanted to interpret as hopeful. Like they wanted to believe we were here to help, or at least we weren’t here to attack them. So I gave them time.

ART-drone kept the humans updated on the situation, explaining that we were probably dealing with more than just a Central System.

At some point, all the humans looked at me with concern, and I had to suppress the urge to flinch. There was a spike of fear in all of them, and PotentialTargetOne tightened her grip on the projectile weapon she was holding. I stepped to my left to position myself directly in front of Iris, giving her cover while keeping my stance as non-threatening as possible. After a moment, the stress markers slowly returned to the levels they had when I first entered the room.

After 2 minutes and 27 seconds, PotentialTargetOne said, looking at me, “Would you allow our system to run a scan on you?”

Oh. So that was what had scared them. LumiNa01 knew I was a rogue.

The Central System knows you hacked your governor module, ART-drone sent. Yeah, no shit, ART.

“As long as it doesn’t try to bypass my wall, I won’t resist,” I said. “But if it does, I will fight back.” And with ART-drone present, their system didn’t stand a chance.

I got a ping from LumiNa01 and acknowledged it. It started a low-level scan of my systems, and I had to force myself not to react. It was similar to what MedSystem does before beginning repairs, except its presence was a lot bigger than a MedSystem. Machine Intelligence big.

Then a comm connection opened, and a voice said, “Thank you for your compliance, SecUnit. I’m Lumina. Nice to meet you.”

Iris opened her eyes wide, a small smile tugging at her lips. Is that their central system? she asked on the team feed.

Yes. I replied

Iris moved to stand next to me. “Hello Lumina, I’m Iris. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello, Iris.”

Lumina’s voice was nothing like ART’s. Actually, it was almost the opposite—gentle, calm, and reassuring. “The ones waiting outside, please come in.”

Of course it knew. It probably had hidden cameras and sensors all over.

Tarik and Karime entered slowly, followed by ART-drone.

“These are Tarik, Karime and Perihelion.” Iris said, gesturing to them as they came closer.

“Hello Tarik, Karime and Perihelion” Lumina replied.

Tarik asked on the feed, Is it like you Peri?

Don’t insult me, ART responded, annoyed.

But it might be as manipulative as ART, I added.

“You knew we were coming. You allowed us to reach this far,” I said.

“Yes. The probability of you being hostiles were below 13%. I’m sorry for the attack on the surface. I’m glad all of you are okay.”

Oh, that just pissed me of. “They could have died. If it was a team of just humans, they would all have died.”

“If they had been just humans, we would have used another method. But they had a SecUnit with them, so we had to hit strong, even if the objective was to scare you away.”

They were just trying to scare us away? What would they have done if they were actually trying to kill us? I felt a release of adrenaline from my organic parts. This was starting to feel uncomfortably similar to when I first met ART.

Iris mouth twitched almost imperceptible. “We understand you were just doing what you thought was best to protect the colony.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Iris.” Lumina said.

“We would like you to see the full video SecUnit sent you. Would that be okay? Then we can talk, and you can ask us anything you want.”

PotentialTargetOne stepped forward, still looking untrusting. “I’m Luka. Let’s sit.”

She motioned toward the closest table. She and her group sat on one side, and my humans on the other. I stayed standing behind them, with ART-drone hovering next to Iris.

After the colonists finished the video – pausing several times to ask questions and get more details – they told us about their colony. By then, we had a clear picture of their situation and how the mercenaries had become part of their group.

It turned out that almost three years ago, MineTar had sent four mercenaries to assess the colony and, if it was still standing, sabotage their life support.

These mercenaries had infiltrated the colony with promises of better living conditions, and by the time they had gained enough trust to access the main systems for sabotage, three of them no longer wanted to complete the mission.

The colonists were naive and didn’t realize what was happening. Lumina, programmed to protect all humans and familiar with corporate tactics, had never encountered hostile humans before, so it couldn’t immediately assess the danger the newcomers represented.

The mercenary who was still committed to sabotaging the colony didn’t realize that her associates weren’t acting anymore when they acted friendly toward the colonists. So, when she finally attempted to sabotage the systems, the others fought her and ended up killing her when she tried to kill one of the colonists.

The unreliability of mercenaries worked in our favor for once.

The surviving mercenaries came clean with the colonists, explaining what they knew about the corporation and teaching them how to anticipate and defend against future threats. Lumina adjusted its security protocols and adopted an “attack first, ask question later” policy toward any activity resembling CR visitors.

Every entrance to the facility had sensors alerting Lumina of any activity, so it had known we were inside from the beginning. But after analyzing our conversation and body language, it determined we weren’t corporates. Once we got close enough, it notified Luka (who was basically acting as their human security), who evacuated the colonists in the area.

When Iris mentioned we had more people on a ship in orbit, Lumina said, “I can allow a connection and secure channel to communicate with your ship through our signal disruption field.”

“That would be helpful. Our crew must be worried about our status,” Iris replied.

Before Lumina could attempt the connection, I said, “I should be the one sending the request so the ship knows it’s us.” I wasn’t sure ART wouldn’t interpret it as hostile or try to hack Lumina. “You can monitor the channel.”

Lumina allowed me to send the request. I transmitted it along with a message packet I knew ART would open safely in a sandbox: ART, we are inside the bunker and have established contact with the colonists. The Central System will request a secure connection with you. Don’t be an asshole, accept it.

That was enough for ART to recognize the message was from me and confirm we were in no danger.

Two seconds later, Seth’s voice came through the comms. “Hello, this is Seth, captain of the Perihelion from the Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland.”

ART was already synced with its bot, using it as a camera to check the room and monitor our humans’ state. It requested Lumina to open a display link to the ship, and the big interface on the wall switched to show Seth, Martyn, Matteo, Kaede, and Turi sitting in ART’s control room, looking relieved to see us all safe.

The humans introduced themselves and gave a concise but brave update on the situation. ART would fill them in on all the technical details later.

Kaede informed us that more corporate ships had come through the wormhole twenty minutes after we lost contact and that additional shuttles were already en route to the planet.

We needed to finalize the ownership papers quickly.

Kaede and Iris explained to the colonists the information they would need to complete the ownership papers, and they were really collaborative throughout.

In the meantime, some of the colonists, along with Luka, gave the rest of us a quick tour of the facility.

The bunker was a lot bigger than expected. It had areas large enough to function as a greenhouse for trees as tall as 15 meters. The filtration and energy systems were really optimized, and they had enough free room to support a steadily growing settlement for at least fifty more years.

Part of the infrastructure nearest to the surface had the function of spreading seeds from the greenhouse through drones to the surface. This process had started thirty years ago, and by the time the colonists moved into the bunker fifteen years later, the surrounding area was already full of vegetation.

Five years after that, the corporation in charge of the terraforming bankrupted, and seven years later, MineTar sent mercenaries to infiltrate and destroy their systems. When they failed, they started preparing the reclamation project, and here we were.

We stayed in the bunker for two cycles, and when the University had all the information needed to present to the corporates, Lumina and ART set a secure connection to their leader to make clear the colonists were staying on the planet as the rightful owners and weren’t interested in selling the rights to the minerals on the planet.

Kaede made it clear that the corporates had ten planetary cycles to remove their machinery from the surface, or it would become the property of the colonists.

By the time the corporates left the planet, we were already helping the colonists build some structures outside the bunker. They had been planning and preparing to expand onto the surface for some time but had postponed it for fear of a corporate attack, so most of the necessary equipment and materials were already ready.

In the meantime, ART and the humans in orbit activated the drop box in the transit station and populated the address list in the satellite to allow communication with other systems.

We gave Lumina all the information we considered useful, along with tons of media and educational modules for it and its humans.

I also told it about Preservation and its people. I had the feeling its humans would get along pretty well with Preservation’s humans.

After twenty-one cycles, the colonists were ready to start expanding on the planet and would be receiving help from a nearby ally system, FreeCol, only fifteen cycles away via wormhole.

The University had sent the coordinates of another abandoned planet under salvage law, and we would be going there as soon as the ally ships reached the planet and began the expansion operation.

By the time we left, the first structures on the surface were already inhabited, and the colonists looked determined to keep expanding. They had time, space, and allies now, enough to stop looking over their shoulders and focus all their energy on growing the settlement.

As we traveled through the wormhole, I thought about the way these scattered human groups kept carving out places where they could live without being crushed by corporate laws. Maybe, eventually, there would be enough of them to matter.

For now, our job was the same as always: move on, assess the next mess, and make sure the people caught in it had a chance to walk away alive.

And honestly, compared to what I had to do for the company, this was way better.