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For reasons that Five Pebbles only grudgingly understood, his head administrator’s favored warplane Setting Starlight was docked in the third and newest of his main aircraft hangers. Though it was neither the closest to his chamber nor the missile assembly plant, Rays of Silver Light upon Nine Halos had always favored the latest editions of everything and anything, and would tolerate no other option.
“Progress is a constant march forward,” she’d tell anyone who bothered to listen. “Not a sprint with a finish line. You may approach perfection, but incremental improvements will always make themselves known. As such, ‘good enough’ is a fallacy! Never trust anyone that tells you otherwise.”
“Yes, I’m in agreement,” he’d said on that particular occasion. “But what specific improvement was made that is more important than a fifteen minute decrease in transport time for our rockets?”
Nine Halos had paused and at least taken the time to consider the implicit point. “Well,” she’d said at last. “It’s sort of centrally located. And really, Five Pebbles. Sometimes a bit of efficiency can be sacrificed for the sake of a good principle.”
After strenuously agreeing to disagree, he could at least admit that when it came to the pursuit of perfection, the ship itself was further along that asymptote than most. It was a sleek model, sharper than a spear and hungry as a vulture, that cut the cavernous space in two. Its wings consumed the runway that he walked along, and his own puppet was shadowed under the bulk of its body. Nimble in the sky, massive on the ground.
Even his second, with their own wings extended, was dwarfed. As Nine Halos barked orders in the background, and Pebbles’ head engineer Three Clay Beads, One Chain counted over missiles with a blunt pencil, they stood still under the turbines. Like nothing of the chaos around them could touch them.
Pebbles envied that perfect calm.
“Suns,” he greeted, though they didn’t turn towards him. This happened, sometimes. Suns’ antennae were prone to malfunction, and sure enough one hung loose now. With a sigh, he straightened it with a pinch of his fingers, tightening the bolt that kept them in their socket. “You can’t let yourself fall apart at the seams like this,” he couldn’t help but chide.
Once again, no response. He narrowed his eyes at them before tapping on their shell.
They jolted, newly attached antennae swivelling outwards to find the nonexistent threat, though thankfully they settled as soon as they caught sight of him. “Sorry, sorry,” they said, with a shake of their head. They were looking at the warheads being carted into the plane’s bomb bay. “Were you saying something?”
“Hardly. I know it’s a pointless endeavor when you’re distracted.” That was how they’d always been. There was likely something faulty with them, some error in their visual processing. He should log it, report it to Three Clay Beads so she could fix it, but if it was severe enough she’d catch it herself and wouldn’t appreciate a pointless request otherwise. After all, Void knew Suns wasn’t a stranger to maintenance with how much fire they were always under.
“I know.” They winced. “Again, I apologize. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days.”
The phrase was routine. Pebbles heard a variant of it nearly every time they spoke. ‘These days’. It had always been ‘these days’. Maybe some faults were unavoidable with the strain their systems were put under.
“Where are your blasters?” he asked instead. If he could keep them engaged, they’d be unlikely to slip off again before it was time to board. “You haven’t attached any of them.”
“I never attach them this early.” They scratched at the plating of their outer arms, ports lined against the surface. It was a simple enough connection, so he supposed there was no rush. Or at least, it looked like a simple connection. Suns had tried to describe it to him before, the sudden alien presence appended to your puppet, but he failed to see how it was different from a new facility being added to your structure. Then again, he supposed they wouldn’t be familiar with that either. “I hardly even know where they are.”
“You hardly even – Suns. Do you have any idea how long I worked on lighter models for you, and then you go and misplace them the first chance you get? Unbelievable. It’s like you don’t even value my work.” None of it was said with any real heat, but he could sense the prickle of irritation building within him. His time was finite, and incredibly valuable – particularly with how much of his development schedule had been taken over by his and Suns’ latest project. Though, if this field application went smoothly, he’d be free of endless genetics research for the first time in what felt like hundreds of cycles. “Fine. Three Clay Beads will know where you put them.”
“No, don’t ask her. I – I know roughly where they are. I’ll get them.” Suns jumped in so quickly that Pebbles could only roll his eyes. Honestly, if they were that embarrassed about any of their Benefactors knowing, they could just avoid the problem entirely by keeping track of them to begin with.
As Suns walked off fast enough they left a few gouges in the ground with their talons, which is another bad habit he wished he could correct, a softer sound of padding boots grew nearer. His own antennae twitched, before he turned to nod in acknowledgement to Nine Halos. Though, her attention wasn’t on him at all. It trailed after Suns, the full weight of her regard pressing down on their back with a presence even Pebbles could feel.
Then she smiled at him, teeth just visible under her golden mask. “My most excellent project!” So she was in a good mood, apparently. “I see that yet another member of our little expedition is lagging behind – as usual, really – but I imagine that you’re at least prepared?” Having seen her before without that mask, he could imagine the glint in her eyes. “You do have everything, yes?”
He knew what she hinted at. His hands ducked into the pocket on his uniform, the pearl there cold, and heavy with anticipation. “I am, and I do.” Resting it in his hand, part of him thought it impossible for something so small to complete such a grand purpose. Irrational, but he’d been told a degree of anxiety was natural. “For once, I think I might be as interested in the results as you are.”
“Hah! You sell your usual curiosity short.” A flicker of a warning popped up in her associated personnel file. While a more casual, friendly tone was normal, this particular playfulness to her tone usually tried to cover up nerves. Like he’d said though, only natural. “You’re an inventor to your core, Five Pebbles. Just the way I made you.” Her voice turned wistful. If her approval did not spark his own ego, the frequency of this sentiment might bore him. “You would not be a creation of mine if you didn’t find satisfaction in this work of yours.”
“It’s as you say,” he acknowledged, still staring in Suns’ direction. “You think that they’d be as curious as I am though. It’s as much their work as mine.”
She shrugged, not paying it much heed. “I wouldn’t mind them, if I were you. I’m sure that they’ll offer their own congratulations to you – if it works.” There was the hint of steel that ever lurked at the edge of her words.
“It will.” He rolled the pearl between his fingers, then removed his hand, cursing himself. It was about as smart, he reminded himself, as playing with a loaded gun. “I refuse to think that all that work was for nothing.”
“Good!” After a sharp clap of her hands, she snapped her head around. “Three Clay Beads! What are your people waiting for, finish up with the refueling already. We’re leaving two minutes ago!”
“The law, good taste, or physics, Nine Halos. I can only disregard two at a time,” was the familiar response, and Pebbles safely tuned it out in favor of scanning the walls for Suns.
They were coming back now, their side arm plugged in its rightful place. The long, blue stripe along the barrel was bright with a fresh coat of paint, reflective in the dim light. With practiced grace, Suns finished attaching the harness to their upper arm, a safety mechanism should the ports fail.
Still, Pebbles noticed a flaw. “Give me your arm for a moment,” he said, already making to hold it up. He checked over their work, not understanding at first why the angle looked off. There it was – the additional battery hadn’t been inserted. It would still be functional, but for far less time. “You always forget the back up. How long has it been since we added that? Honestly, Suns.”
“Ah, there’s always something. You know how it goes.” Their voice was stronger than it was under the turbines – good. Both of them would need all the strength they could get.
“There’s an additional one in the plane. I’ve learned to plan ahead,” he grumbled, but didn’t bother giving them any more grief. For all that Suns overlooked the details, they were invaluable in the field. Though he could hardly perform the same stunts they did, far too flashy for something as critical as himself to perform and draw attention with, their effortless maneuverability was a trait he’d very much like to learn.
There was little time for further chit-chat, as boarding commenced soon after. Pebbles climbed up the stairs to the main entrance, Suns close behind him, and headed straight to his usual seat against the right wall. Inside the cabin itself, it would be difficult to tell its true purpose – the stark blue velvet seats made it look more like a lounge than a warroom, but no one had asked Pebbles for his opinion on the interior decoration.
It was not a crowded space. The crew was small, and the passenger list exclusive, with most of the plane’s capacity better used for weaponry (not that they would have to resort to it, if all went according to plan). Good – all the more room for Suns to stretch out their legs. They had such an unusual manner of sitting, but if it made them happy he wouldn’t dare complain.
Across from them, Nine Halos settled in her own favored seat, entertaining herself with a magazine he knew her well enough to say she was only pretending to read. Her eyes didn’t move right across the page. In truth, that canny awareness was something admirable about his creator. Against those that assumed themselves safely unobserved, her act was useful.
Unfortunately, her habit didn’t serve her well now. No one on this plane was the chatty type – least of all before missions such as this. Each was either too nervous, or too grim.
Pebbles kept an eye on Suns as they gazed out the window at the vast horizon. Whatever they saw there was invisible to him. When they’d first met, when Suns had first been created, they had tried to point out the shapes among the eddying clouds. Abstractions created by an overactive pattern recognition system, he understood, and had told them as such. They had not spoken of such a thing again. But he could see it, in the twitch of their irises back and forth – they thought of it still.
“Honored iterator?” That was the deep voice of One Stone, Many Ripples, who bore a tablet in one hand with flickering white-and-blue schematics across its surface. Pebbles looked briefly to Nine Halos, who gave him an imperceptible nod; he motioned for One Stone to continue. “An updated report of the city’s defenses has just arrived. The House of Reeds has attempted a subtle mobilization across the South Quarter, including with what look like anti-aircraft missiles.” He nodded to Suns, whose only initial acknowledgement that they heard was a flick of their antennae.
From her seat, Nine Halos sighed with a pointed look their way. After a brief close of their eyes, Suns turned their head to face the officer.
After realizing that left to their own devices they would still rather sit in silence than contribute, Pebbles decided to speak in their stead. “There’s no reason for your concern, officer. Suns can outmaneuver any of the sixth-generation missiles developed by our local group. Even the Far Nova group’s seventh-generation Leaping the Fields of Gray model hasn’t touched them.”
“Monsoon’s radar shouldn’t even be able to catch them,” chimed in Nine Halos, who stopped even looking at the page. “Honestly, it’s not an issue. And as for us? Oh, forget it. Nothing’s catching this darling.” She gave the seat an affectionate pat, with a degree of fondness that Pebbles knew well from his own finest successes.
“As you say, Head Administrator,” One Stone had no choice but to demure. “Still, perhaps–”
“–An eastern approach,” cut in Suns. Their fingers drummed against the seat, deep in thought. “We sacrifice easy access to the city’s manufacturing, but Chasing Wind’s eastern towers will grant Pebbles and I cover. I might be able to evade,” –their voice took on a sharper edge– “But he has no such luxury.”
Across the aisle, Nine Halos frowned. “If we don’t destroy Monsoon’s factories, it’ll only come back stronger and fiercer than before, Suns.”
“But an iterator is not so easily replaced.” They met her gaze with a level stare. “Killing Monsoon’s heart is what counts. The rest is… gratuitous.”
She clicked her tongue, a scolding gesture that set everyone save perhaps Pebbles himself on edge. “You know I’m fond of completion,” said Nine Halos, a hint of a sneer piercing through her usual flippant air. “But fine.” She clapped, the sharp snap of it startling those around her enough to jump. “We go in from the east. So long as Monsoon’s god dies, who cares about the rest of it?”
It didn’t take them long to near the outer banks of the city, its skyline spiralling up through the clouds. The hum of the aircraft’s cloaking system droned on, killing any further attempt at speech. Instead, with a prickling sensation up the back of his neck, the Metropolis personnel communications network began to light up.
He and Suns exchanged a glance, the snap in place of the messaging system no longer as disconcerting as it had once been. Harder to intercept than those old broadcasts, it permitted the exchange of qualia as well as short messages.
Unable to process information in the same way as either of them, their Benefactors’ messages only came through in snippets of words. Ready? Nine Halos sent, the uptick in her measured heartrate giving the word an anxious lilt.
Ready. Suns was as inscrutable as usual as they flared out their wings, a tight lock kept on most of their psychological parameters even with the network. Which made sense – Pebbles imagined that with them in the heat of combat, getting constant flashes of life-or-death fear would be distracting to him.
Clasping the pearl firmly in place, Pebbles sent his own quick affirmation.
The side door slid open, and he was suddenly weightless in Suns’ grasp–
–That initial dive never got less exhilarating, no matter how many times Suns corkscrewed down to pick up speed and shot forward like a bullet. Wings extended as they hit a tailwind, riding it further through Monsoon’s defenses. With a keen eye for incoming artillery, they swung around to arc over the low outer wall of the city before their turbines engaged in full force, kicking up wind to allow them to climb over the higher blockade.
He shoved a reminder of their destination at them as their own sense of qualia began to narrow to their present surroundings. I know, Pebbles, they sent back, a dim amusement reaching him with it. It retracted swiftly – as they cleared the second wall one very brave soldier pivoted and attempted to shoot up at Suns. A twitch of their legs was all that avoided a glancing blow.
Return fire? Pebbles asked, wrangling the network into words.
No need. A firm refusal, at first, the speed at which they were going made it impractical to turn in place to aim. It was that or fire with absolute faith in their target locking system, which he knew they hated for its temperamental nature.
Then, they twinged. It seemed they’d received other orders from their commanders.
Shifting him fully into their other arm, Suns reached back to fire a single pulse from their blaster. Inevitably, it went wide – Pebbles didn’t even think that they’d aimed for the wall, let alone the soldier. They almost never bothered with words when it came to their head administrator, only flicking back an acknowledgement and a sense of completion.
“Really, Suns?” he said, unsure if he would be heard over the roar of their turbines.
To his surprise, they did glance down. “I’m not stopping in midair to let everyone on the wall use us as target practice.” As they zipped through the maze of skyscrapers, he saw the moment they caught sight of their destination. “Ah, there we are.”
They sank down to land, using the gateway into the iterator itself as cover as Pebbles did the same. “We both know what we’re meant to be doing. Suns, you–”
“–I know,” they said quickly, before he could even get the order out. “This is where we part ways, then. You should–”
They cut off as they hit the ground, dragging Pebbles with them as a bolt of energy left a scorch mark on the wall behind them. A flare of their wings prevented another from hitting him, though at the cost of thumbnail sized hole through their primaries and a hiss of pain.
“Get – get away from that door!” A young woman with shaking legs steadied her blaster arm. “Get out of our city!”
She had one more shot, and was well aware that if she used it poorly Suns would simply take the blow again. One of the very few weapons that could pierce through their plating, but it dissipated on contact. And they had the feathers to spare.
Still carefully shielding him with their wing, Suns shifted so they could block themself as well. They stared at her, as if daring her to take her final chance. “This isn’t a fight you can win,” they said darkly. “If you leave now you might escape with your life.”
The click of the network in the back of both their minds as Nine Halos’ ever-watchful eyes took note of their situation. You two don’t have time for this. Suns, kill her before she finds a way to shoot my Creation. Five Pebbles, take her ID drone.
Their arm raised far faster than she could hope to pull her own trigger, the bolt striking her between the eyes. The rest of her body slumped, mostly headless. With static still crackling in the air and mingling with the smell of charred flesh, Pebbles stood and brushed dust off his clothes. Suns was still on the ground, eyes wide as they stared at the corpse.
Though he took a look out of morbid fascination, he quickly averted his own gaze. A shot from a blaster at nearly point blank range was ugly work, he could acknowledge that. But they didn’t have the moments to spare, just as his administrator had said. And she would have done to same to them, if she’d only gotten the chance. “Come on, up on your feet,” he tried to say gently, a nudge to their shoulder with his knee enough to urge them back into action. “No point in looking any further.”
“...Of course.” With that, they dragged their eyes away.
As for his part, the iterator of this city still used its original second-generation drone models. These were easy enough to reconfigure and assign a new entity, a known vulnerability that was tolerated considering the expense and inconvenience of replacing every citizen’s identification. Nine Halos had brought dozens of them to his chamber once, and he’d not been allowed to do anything else until he could resync one of them to his puppet in under ten seconds. “None of the doors should pose an issue now.”
But with that, they truly did have to part ways. It was a small miracle their exchange hadn’t alerted more of the city – certainly, Suns’ appearance on the wall meant Monsoon knew of their presence, but that was always the intention. Keep eyes on Suns as he went in alone. “This is our meetup location, unless it has since become inaccessible, in which case I’ll message you my coordinates. I’ll ping you once I’m five minutes out, alright?”
“...Nine Halos is already sending me orders. Stay safe. I’ll see you on the other side.” They always sounded so somber when they parted ways. Appropriate, but never comforting.
With a short nod, Pebbles listened to them fly off, the familiar soaring whir its own balm to his nerves. At least the door opened as easily as he’d hoped, and he split off quickly for one of the old access tunnels. Meant for purposed organisms to make their way through the iterator’s structure, it would be far more subtle than traipsing straight through the main halls.
He only needed to make it to the laboratory.
The distant shake of an explosion, with a telltale vibration after it he’d come to know well. Suns was being kept busy, a quick check in the network told him that much – and he needed to hurry before his distraction drew too many targets on themself to manage.
For anyone save himself, making his way through an iterator structure might be a dizzying affair. As it was he made good time, approaching the laboratory slightly ahead of schedule. He peered out of the peepholes of the tunnel he’d stolen away into, an undignified crawlspace that was nevertheless preferable from any of the purposed organisms the iterator might have designed as guards, or even just armed Benefactors. But as he stepped out–
A cacophonous burst of feedback slammed into his antennae, his head, his self. If not for how it whited out all of his outputs, he might have screamed. Not in pain, but the shock of the feeling sent him to his knees. Scramblers. The brilliant flash of emerald green in his vision meant Sanctity scramblers too – his engineers were right to be worried. The network crashed like a spray of shattering glass, his threads connecting him to Suns and Setting Starlight snapping all at once. Disorientated and alone, he clawed his way back to his feet. Had that been a targeted attack on him? Did someone know he was here?
…Nothing as far as he could see. More likely than not it had been directed at Suns. Hardly ideal, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He’d have to hope that they were alright.
As his local systems sputtered back to life, he crept closer to the laboratory door. Keypad entry – likely his citizen drone would not get him in, but these were a simple hurdle.
Then, from the dark expanse of his communications, a much more rudimentary notification pinged his auxiliary drone.
[DIRECT BROADCAST] Private - Chasing Wind, Citizen ID 70.33219
SOURCE NODE TRACE - CW_ROOT, C70_33219
CW: If I’m correct, the iterator Five Pebbles is receiving this message. Can you confirm?
He closed out of the broadcast window like it was a virus, fumbling across the keypad in his surprise. An attempt to break his concentration no doubt. But how had Monsoon’s iterator known so quickly that this drone had been assigned to him?
But if the iterator could distract him, he could distract it. Very well then. Two could play at this game.
C70: I will admit I am impressed you managed to locate me. Fine, you’ve guessed correctly.
C70: If this is an attempt at sabotage, you’re only wasting both of our time. The citizen drone is separate from the rest of my systems. I highly doubt you’ve made something that could bridge that gap.
CW: I’m well aware. But that’s not why I’m contacting you. I’m asking you to desist in your attack, immediately.
CW: You don’t know the repercussions of what you’re doing.
C70: I assure you that I do.
CW: Then you must be unable to comprehend it. My city depends on my functionality. I don’t know what you’re doing with the rarefaction cells you’re after, but this isn’t an acceptable loss, no matter what your goal may be.
CW: What you are doing goes against the entirety of our purpose. You must stop.
C70: I ‘must’ do nothing of the sort.
C70 This is my purpose. I am fulfilling my creators’ will. I imagine that you are doing the same. If it is any comfort, it’s nothing personal.
CW: It’s really not, given the circumstances.
CW: But you serve a higher end than mere obedience. Or have your Benefactors stopped their search for a solution to our Great Problem entirely?
C70: Of course they haven’t. Don’t be ridiculous. But there are more practical uses for the tools at their disposal, for the moment.
This was serving as a good distraction, he noted, since the iterator had not interfered with his entry into one of its labs. As the door slid open, access key successfully entered through an analysis of the keypad wear patterns, he searched for a nearby pearl reader that would connect to the main cell printer.
Its surface was so smooth in his hand. Such an innocuous little object. He almost felt pity for what he was about to unleash.
For now, keep it distracted with anything other than turning its gaze towards what he was actually doing here.
C70: After all, my being here has everything to do with the search for a solution. In time, at least.
C70: Defunct iterators like you are a waste of resources. Your rarefaction cells could be put to better use in a newer model. Unfortunately, your citizenry was resistant to the idea of a replacement. We were left with little choice.
CW: What an awful way to think. A solution won’t come from such flagrant indulgence in the first urge.
CW: I pity you. What do you think will happen when you’re deemed obsolete?
C70: That will not happen. My Benefactors see no issue with upgrading me when it becomes necessary to keep pace with new advancements. Only the overly sentimental cling to nonfunctional older systems.
CW: I’m sure that’s what they’ve told you.
The pearl had begun uploading its data. He eyed the completion bar – soon after it began printing, he would need to flee from the laboratory. Likely the iterator was keeping track of his citizen drone’s movements, so he would not want to start at a sprint lest he draw its attention.
Speaking of, it had sent him another message – a shame, since he was looking forward to coming up with a sharp retort.
CW: That does explain what’s happened to Seven Red Suns, in a roundabout way. Waste not want not, though I’d argue this is an extreme application.
…Seven Red Suns?
He stared at those three words, willing them to conform to his current knowledge. But they did not. Though it reminded him of his companion, Suns had no other name, the diminutive form appropriate for the simpler creation that they were. Why did the iterator even know about them as anything other than a destructive force?
C70: What are you talking about?
He should not have sent that message, and cursed it as soon as it had sent. Whatever they told him would either be nothing but lies, or a version of the truth meant to warp his senses. More likely than not, they were making something up already, some mad story that would fall apart under scrutiny. What kind of name was Seven Red Suns, anyways? It even sounded fake.
Fortunately, they never got the chance. A soft chime indicated that the pearl had finished its upload, and a mechanical arm swirled around the laboratory’s central platform as it began to print a twisted latticework of cells, spiralling in a brilliant blue. He lingered, only for a moment, to watch as they ballooned outwards, forming cysts that rapidly crept up the arm and slipped into the first of the iterator’s systems.
CW: You mean you don’t know?
CW: Wait.
CW: What are you doing?
CW: Stop.
CW: Stop this at once.
The messages were dismissed once more, he ignored any sinking disappointment. No time to entertain this soon-to-be corpse, not if he wanted to get out of here alive.
Before him, his bioweapon unfurled into its full brilliance. As he backed away its tendrils began to seek for open seams in the iterator’s structure, slipping itself into the vulnerable interior of the walls wherever it could. It hungered, the Rot. An organism that would never know satisfaction. Would never be free from its instincts.
Trapped in the cycle for eternity, and as far from ascension as he himself was. If only in the inverse.
Since the iterator knew and his creation was working far better than expected, Pebbles made the decision to run despite his earlier assessment. Which was wise, as a moment after that decision its roots cracked through the door and consumed it into the mass at the center of the lab. A valve opened in the far end of the room, water nipping at his heels as the iterator tried to wash out the Rot. It would be too late. He had tested for that, obviously. What use would it be if it couldn’t withstand an iterator’s first line of defense?
CW: What have you done.
CW: Why would you do this to me me me
CW: N N No it hurts hurts
[CHASING WIND is away!]
More noise, more nonsense to dismiss. Only valuable as an indication that the Rot was already reaching other parts of its structure, which was obviously a good thing. He could safely ignore it now – with such a dire threat to its existence at hand, it wouldn’t have time to track a single citizen drone through its halls.
Also, for the moment he was also trapped in here with the Rot, and he had no interest in being a test subject himself. If he wanted to avoid that fate, he needed to find Suns, which was easier said than done with the communications system down.
There was no time to figure that out now. Instead, he sprinted through the structure in much the same way he’d entered, hoping that no one had taken much notice of the path that Suns had opened for him. Time flew by, his modified puppet tiring slowly.
Perhaps an hour later, he was back where he started. He would be ahead of the Rot for now – but his luck had run out. The entrance was blocked, metal sealed together by nanodrones’ hasty work. It seemed the iterator had taken some awareness of his path after all.
He pulled up the map of the structure to check his position. The closest actual entrance was going closer towards the Rot, which not only risked a run-in with his own creation but also the iterator’s own Benefactors as they were called to its aid. A poor choice.
Now would be an excellent time for Suns to appear.
Just to satisfy his own curiosity, and because he had few other ideas, he tried something. Again, only for the sake of ruling it out as a possibility.
[[LOST HEADER INFORMATION]] - BROADCAST unknown group(NULL) - Citizen ID 70.33219, Seven Red Suns
SOURCE NODE TRACE - C_7033219, SRS_ROOT
C70: Suns? Is this reaching you?
[ERROR - SRS_ROOT offline for [ERROR: type(null) found in column 4] cycles].
[SEVEN RED SUNS is offline!]
At least that checked out, and Pebbles could put that particular curiosity from his head. Notably, this did not solve his current problem of being stuck in an enclosed space with a bioterrorism agent (he had no particular illusions about what he’d designed, even if it was for a good cause).
In truth, Pebbles was starting to be concerned over Suns’ current status, as ever since they’d gone silent he hadn’t heard any distant explosion either. As that was generally the noise that followed them around, its absence was unlikely to mean anything good for Suns’ current state. Hopefully they hadn’t been shot down – not only would finding their fallen body be difficult, but Pebbles would have to find a way to the alternate extraction site with said body in tow. If that was what had to be done, Suns would have to live without some of their limbs until new ones could be made. While they had been built to act as a means of transportation with the power to match, he didn’t think he would be able to do much more than drag their full construct. Much too inefficient in their current situation.
For now, he would assume they were still around. A more mundane form of signalling would have to do. But first, he wanted to get further out of the Rot’s reach–
Thunderous rupturing broke through his thought, tearing metal and the distinct smell of burning plastic overwhelming him. A chunk of the ceiling collapsed behind him as he took several steps back, eyes wide as he assessed the new threat.
But it was no threat at all. Instead, Suns perched at the lip of the new hole in the iterator’s structure, wings flared out and claws digging into the machinery below. Somehow, he’d not expected that they would be looking for him as much as he’d be looking for them. Nor had he seen them so harried in… as long as he’d known them.
As long as they’d existed.
“Pebbles!” The frantic edge to their voice suggested that they’d been searching for some time. “There you are. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, everything went well.” Distantly, he could hear another valve spring on. “We do need to leave, however. The Rot is spreading better than either of us had hoped, and between it and the flooding–”
“–I know.” They extended a hand, which he gladly took as a lifeline out of that hellhole. Turbines whirred back to life, and they sprung into the air from a standstill. No matter how many times he watched them, he’d never stopped being impressed with their engineering. They were an absolute marvel. Nothing in the sky could hope to compare.
(And someday, would there be a better model? One with tighter turns, faster acceleration, smoother landings? …What then?)
“We need to get back into signal range if we can,” Suns said, loud enough to be heard over the rumble of their machinery. For some reason, their voice was tense – something was being bitten back as they scanned over the torn-apart city from their new vantage point above it. “From there, we can assess the situation. Do you think that the Rot will have done enough damage to the structure for it to collapse?”
“It was the most virulent strain! I can’t imagine that the iterator will be able to do much about it. It’s meant to–”
Like the splitting of the earth, an explosion behind them caught both of their attention, heads craning back. Suns hissed, turning their attention back to maneuvering, but Pebbles saw as one of the legs gave way. He could only stare in utter shock as sheets of metal disappeared into the earth below, bursting inwards as the structure trembled and swayed. Surely that hadn’t been his work?
Suns made a hasty strafe left, curving with the spray of bullets aimed at them. One of the iterator’s defenders had very good eyes, to spot such a small target. Though he knew they hated doing so since it sacrificed the ability to dive out of danger, they ducked closer to the water, as not every anti-aircraft gun had the ability to fire at such a tight downwards angle. “Chasing Wind’s shields have fallen if Setting Starlight can fire on them like that,” they said. Pebbles blinked – so that had been the cause. He hadn’t even seen the missile. “The Rot must have reached some of their central processors, if they’re losing those threads. …At least it’s quick.”
“Nice of them to give us a warning.” Another missile fired, as Suns adjusted to parallel its trajectory. If they could follow where it fired from, they’d find the cloaked Setting Starlight. “We could have still been in there.”
“I suppose we could have been.” That strain he’d heard only curdled further.
It would have been a calculated risk, he knew, and imagined Suns did as well. There were few easy decisions to be made in combat. Now that he knew their landing point’s approximate direction, he kept a careful eye on it.
And was immediately discouraged, as the missiles arced further away from them. “Can you keep pace with the plane?”
“Not easily, and I don’t want to push my luck with my fuel efficiency,” said Suns, who had surely noticed the same thing. Their eyes darted back and forth, calculating its trajectory. Even with it cloaked, they could estimate the position from its firing patterns with far more accuracy than any of their foes. “We’ll have to cut across the structure if we’re going to catch up. If there’s a safe zone from enemy fire we might be able to catch them on a fly by, but I don’t see one from here.”
Wings pushing to gain altitude, they kicked off the water with enough force to send waves behind them, following their own arc over the remnants. Monsoon’s defenders were starting to take notice of the missile pattern as well, but they couldn’t do so as precisely as they needed to break through Setting Starlight’s shields. Another rocket screamed overhead, too close for comfort. One of theirs, but that wouldn’t matter if they made a head-on collision with it. If Pebbles was any less confident in Suns’ abilities, he would be very apprehensive about flying through such active airspace.
As they passed over the structure again, he found himself scanning the area around the iterator’s chamber. He knew vaguely where it was, thanks to the schematics he had, but had little idea what to expect of it. Would it look like his own chamber, if the bombardment had exposed the interior? Or if the Rot had gotten to it first?
But he saw no glimpse of its exposed heart. Instead, he caught a flicker of movement that was out of place on the besieged structure.
There, in the wreckage – he could scarcely see it through the plumes of black smoke and the billowing dust from the rubble, but climbing out onto the roof was a pale gray puppet. It dragged itself by its hands, a single leg limp behind it. The other ended in nothing but a socket and a few trailing wires. Inch by inch, it freed itself from what should have been its tomb.
“Suns,” he hissed, pointing in its direction. “Look, there.”
They glanced, barely a peek. Then stopped in midair with such precision that he had to tighten his own grip lest he be flung forwards. A swivel of their head, the deafening roar of their turbines to keep them hovering – and Pebbles, dangling in their arms. What was stopping them from taking the shot? “Come on,” said Pebbles, now irritated he couldn’t kick them at his current angle. “It’s a sitting duck.”
But Suns didn’t. With some effort, they flapped their wings again, picking up speed and then diving low as the remaining defenders of the falling structure took their sudden pause as a chance to fire on them. They skimmed along the remnants of enemy lines, an unusual route to take back to their aircraft, then shot up towards one of the few intact rooftops left. At the speed they were flying, it was not a graceful landing. Suns rolled, and Pebbles tumbled with them, falling out their grip and scrambling to his feet as soon as he was free.
“What was that!” He whirled his arms out, wanting to shake them by the shoulders. “We could have ended it, right there! It might shut down on its own, but it might not! What’s gotten into you?”
Suns’ hands landed on his shoulders. They leaned on him, knees trembling as they stared into his eyes. His systems slowed as time ran fuzzy at the edges. Each second dropped by. The tick of his internal clocks were nearly audible.
“We,” Suns said, each word straining out. “Did not see that.”
“What do you mean? Of course we did.”
Though they were previously only resting on him, their hands now clenched down as metal claws pressed against his back panels. “There was no puppet there, Five Pebbles. The iterator Chasing Wind is dead. We know this.”
“But we don’t.” Steam hissed out of him, the exertion of the battle bearing down on him. Suns’ irises shrunk, a vicious look that Pebbles had only seen leveled at their enemies before. Their grip tightened further. “Suns, that hurts. Stop it.”
“We didn’t see them,” like insisting on it would make it any more true. “We did not see an iterator puppet. I had to stop here because of – because of a fueling error. I don’t know. But we did not see Chasing Wind.”
He had never seen Suns like this before. They had been built for war, and war had accepted its gift with open arms. Scars in the form of dents in their plating, tears that pierced through into rubber joints - those were their only reward. But they had also been built, so Nine Halos had told him, for Pebbles. So he could have someone that matched his own speed, his own brilliance, to speak of his solutions with. They were intended as his companion, and his shadow.
But they were not that now. Whatever was in front of him might still be Suns, but it was not one that he knew. What had this Suns been created for, he wondered. What was the desperation behind their eyes meant to guard?
“You’re scaring me,” he muttered, ashamed to admit it. He no longer wanted to meet their gaze.
Their claws curled, denting the metal underneath them. Static buzzed through Pebbles’ speakers, a muffled cry of pain. “Please,” they said, the crack in their voice stark in comparison to how sure their grip felt. “Please, Pebbles. Don’t tell Nine Halos. Don’t tell Three Clay Beads. Just us. Only we can know we saw that puppet. If you’ve ever trusted me. If you’ve ever cared.”
Pebbles forced himself to look back at them, though warnings began to pop up in his vision of a foreign object detected in his puppet, from where Suns’ fingers had pierced straight through. His head swirled, thick with mired confusion and panic with no outlet.
But when he did meet their gaze again, he saw only fear. That fear looked like it wanted to run. It looked like it wanted to hurt him. And it looked like it wanted to dig into its host’s own nerves and never leave, as an endless agonizing parasite that emptied them out cycle by cycle, breath by breath.
“Alright,” he said at last. “I won’t say anything. There wasn’t a puppet. We stopped to refuel. Now let go.”
They gasped, like surfacing after drowning. As they retracted to cover their face, shaking all the while, Pebbles took a few steps back. “Thank you. Thank you, Pebbles.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, prodding at the damage on his back. It wasn’t severe, but it did sting.
They noticed it as well, or at least his investigation. “Did I – did I hurt you?”
“I was trying to tell you that. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to not do that again.” And if they ever did, Pebbles may very well report that to Nine Halos. For now though, that sat ill with him for some reason. “It’s fine. We’ll tell them it was–”
“–I’ll admit to it,” Suns said in a rush. “We’ll say I grabbed you too hard during our escape. That’s technically true.”
He gave Suns an askance look. “Nine Halos won’t be pleased.” For whatever reason, Suns feared her temper more than they feared anything else, up to and including getting shot.
“I’ll bear it. I’ve born it before. It’s the least I deserve.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he told them, rolling his shoulder. No notable damage to the joint either. Only the lingering caution around Suns, who before now he’d never have viewed as a threat. “But fine. If you want to tell a version of the truth in that regard, who am I to stop you?”
Peering out from their shelter, Suns knelt down for better cover. Silently, they checked over the primaries of their wing, which were netted together to better catch the winds produced by their turbines. One of them had taken a glancing blow on their way down, but the microbiome laced through the biological underpinnings already raced to fill the void with new matter. Even the blaster wound from earlier had a mesh over it now. A marvel of modern engineering, just as he’d said.
But what else? A manned aircraft could bear the same capabilities. Why fuse mind and machine like this, all for a weapon?
“Well. Ready when you are,” they said, breaking him out of his strange thoughts. He shook away the spare threads, irritated with himself. If he was so curious he could ask his administrator – she would enjoy the chance to tell him more about one of her projects.
When he nodded and Suns went to grab him as they always would when they took off for Setting Starlight, he instead stepped back. It wasn’t what he’d meant to do, but the sharp twinge of his shoulder had broken through his old instincts.
Pebbles closed his eyes tight. Which should win out, cycles upon cycles of successful missions and utter trust as he put his existence in their hands, or one strange interaction? Before they could say anything (he could see the growing guilt on their face) he shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine, let’s go.”
This time, he didn’t flinch. Suns moved carefully so he had time to process what they were doing, and telegraphed going under his arms well before they actually touched him. What a waste of time – he would get over this quickly if he had anything to say about it, because this hesitation would do neither of them any good.
They ran into no further issues on the flight back to Setting Starlight, communications slamming back to life as they neared the craft. Several missed messages from Nine Halos flooded his mind, a conflagration of data that nearly whited out his vision. Suns must have had even more, because they stuttered in the air (and tightened their grip on Pebbles until they loosened it so quickly he swore they were about to drop him instead). A mechanical whine pierced through their speakers, involuntary in its lack of similarity to speech. …An odd reaction, but maybe it was fear. This close to the plane, he imagined they were focused on not interfering with its own flight.
The entry hatch opened and Suns ducked inside, landing heavily on the metal floor, and then slumped over to the ground. It couldn’t be the communications, then – had they been running so low on power that they had to draw from other systems? They curled their knees in and shook, the feedback-like noise increasing to a painful volume.
“Your speakers,” Pebbles hissed from where he had been unceremoniously dropped, wishing the clasped hands over his antennae did anything to dampen it.
Since it was out of a Benefactor’s hearing range, Nine Halos – who stood as a severe silhouette against the austere surroundings of the upper level of the plane, a far cry from the luxurious cabin below – raised an eyebrow. “Well, Suns, you weren’t responding. I don’t know what you expected.”
The awful, wrenching sound tapered off as they staggered back to their feet. “Yes, of course.” They glared, which seemed awfully daring for them. “What a practical way to handle an interruption in communications.”
Suns’ grumbling was not appreciated by Nine Halos, whose eyebrow continued to climb to yet untold heights. “You’re fine, aren’t you? How dramatic.”
“What was that about?” asked Pebbles, looking between the two of them. Something unspoken lingered between them, evident in the unhappy crease of Suns’ eyes and a dangerous impatience about Nine Halos he associated with broken deadlines and particularly stupid backtalk.
But her demeanor took a sharp pivot at the sound of his voice. “Ah, there’s the hero of the hour! Excellent work, dear.” Pride blossomed through his systems, the warm feeling spreading throughout. Even his least favorite term of address – though it only indicated she’d been worried about them both, since dear only slipped out when she was particularly stressed – couldn’t stop his satisfaction. She was not hesitant to make her displeasure known, which made her praise all the more treasured.
Though it didn’t last long. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on the gouges in his outer plating. “And where did that come from?”
“It was me,” said Suns, as they had promised. Though they tried to hunch inwards to make themself look smaller, Nine Halos’ quiet fury threatened to burn a hole through their own shell. “The extraction was hastier than planned, with communications down.”
“...I see. We’ll talk about that later.” Suns closed their eyes, then bowed their head. “Pebbles, we’ll get that filled in shortly enough. Any mobility issues resulting from the damage?”
“None. Not much more than an ache.” Which was only adjacent to the truth, but he felt a bit sorry for Suns and the stern talking-to they were sure to get later. Not that they didn’t deserve it.
“Hmmm. Well, still. Have Three Clay Beads take a look at it.” After that she smiled, chasing away the last of her intensity with a flash of her teeth. “Besides, this is no time for business! You’ve both done excellent work today. We’ll send a team out shortly to retrieve the rarefaction cell – and when we do, we can start talking about new experimentation permissions for you Pebbles, alright?”
He perked up. That was a very nice reward for a job well done. He’d have to spend some time considering what he might want to do with the opportunity to work with something so rare – perhaps he’d bounce some ideas off of Suns, once they’d recovered from the exhaustion. “Thank you, head administrator. I’ll be certain to prepare a few drafts when we return.”
“I would expect nothing less.” Gesturing for them both to follow, she led them downstairs. They were on the return trip now, and Pebbles let himself relax as the adrenaline began to fade from his system. He slouched, even, the luxury of the seating not seeming so excessive now. Anyone who tried to congratulate him on his success got a curt nod and thanks, and then a hint to leave him alone. The Benefactors passed around a bottle of some expensive drink Pebbles had no reason to care about, many of them enjoying their own accolades for well-aimed shots or good strategizing or what have you – he scarcely cared at the moment.
Suns too initially sat, but kept tapping their foot against the ground in a nervous rhythm. Eventually, they stopped, and stood up so sharply that they drew the attention of just about every passenger. Only Pebbles kept staring after them as they walked to the far window to look back at their work: Monsoon in ruins, and an iterator they’d both agreed was dead.
After a moment, he followed them. Whatever had caused their mood today, he didn’t quite know, but even with their erratic behavior he didn’t want them left to brood alone. After all, Suns had found him in the iterator’s structure, had flown him out of danger, and was the only reason the Rot had been so effective in the first place. They’d earned themself some grace, hadn’t they?
Though Suns glanced his way, they said nothing. No trace of the desperation he knew he’d seen earlier that day on their face remained, only an empty chasm where it should have been. He couldn’t look away, even as they turned back towards the view of the open sky and the destruction beyond it.
Then Nine Halos stepped between them. She scanned the horizon, the wreckage, as if it were painting. The smoke rendered as strokes of a brush, and the debris fine stippling.
“What a sight,” she said, raising her drink. “What a sight, you two have outdone yourselves. There’s scarcely anything left. A clean victory, despite the complications along the way.” Soot was still thick in Pebbles’ joints. Well, no metaphor was perfect. “I haven’t seen such desolation since Sol. You remember, Suns. It looks like those old ruins, from this angle. Look, where that chunk rises out of the water – can’t you see it as the remnants of those high steeples instead, if you squint?”
He would have tuned out his architect’s rambling, since she made little sense to him when she spoke to Suns and Suns alone, if not for the way that they did not react at all.
She waited, leaning towards them as if telling a joke. The idle motion of her fingers across the glass left thick smears on its surface and a dull hum in the air. “Well? Don’t you think it does?”
Dead silence. Suns only stared at the remnants of Monsoon. They felt fragile as the glass between Nine Halos’ fingers. What they would break into, he did not know.
Nine Halos’ patience was not infinite, and as the moment dragged she shrugged at Pebbles, a simple what can you do gesture. Then she sat down, taking a long sip and kicking up her feet. Every once in a while, she’d glance back to where Suns stood at the window and sigh, as if part of her still expected a reaction.
But Suns, in lone vigil against the dying light, said nothing the rest of the way home.