All systems shutting down, Khaji Da whispers to itself. Jaime Reyes cannot hear him, because that system is already offline, left with only the parting words of good bye. All systems are shutting down, one by one, as slowly as the Scarab can manage with each subsequent loss, control slipping away.
Weaponry is entirely unneeded, a decision that goes against much of its programming, but fighting is the last thing Jaime will need to do right now. His enemy is as helpless as he is, armor shutting down from Khaji Da's command, and the creature inside already unconscious.
Sense of time stops all at once, leaving Khaji Da with no idea of how long they have been falling: milliseconds or years or days or minutes, an instant and an eternity.
Measures of altitude and attitude fall away, but it knows that they are still descending to the planet. Heat receptors gone, but visuals show the burning upon re-entry, blocked only by what little energy it can divert to protecting Jaime from the descent to Earth from orbit.
All receptors go silent, dribbles of information from human satellites and connections to Jaime's - to both of their - allies' and friends' and family's phones and computers and vital signs. It is stiflingly silent, devoid even of Jaime's stream of thought, the last vestiges of which have already turned from the fear and loneliness at the loss of Khaji Da and on to how the hell he is going to survive the fall from orbit, a crazy idea forming in his head. The Scarab is proud.
Khaji Da is selfish, and even as everything retreats back into itself, it keeps its A.I., its person, its self, online for as long as it can. Jaime can't hear him any more, but even as all of the Scarab's systems blink out, it fights to stay conscious. Its program clamps itself tighter to Jaime's spine, steadfastly refusing to let go during the shutdown, and the Scarab dimly hopes that is its own hope to remain attached to its friend, and not just the unrelenting design of the Reach to keep a hold on its host. Its memories softly file themselves away, data on battles fought and language and friends and television and inside jokes, people and places and events and things, blinking out of the Scarab's access until there is only itself and Jaime.
And then, as the shutdown completes, there is only Jaime.
...
The reboot takes the exact amount of time that Khaji Da knew it would. Its systems flare to life, and it can feel Jaime's joy and relief and excitement as its armor wraps itself around him. It assesses that there is no danger, only Jaime Reyes' friends and family present. His use of the Scarab's systems is purely for the sake of having it back. Lethal force is unneeded.
"Welcome back!" he says, laughing with joy, at seeing the data flow behind his eyes covering scans of the area and the people around them. The Scarab affirms the salutation, running a systems check to ensure the reboot is entirely successful. All systems are functional. Scarab Khaji Da online.
All systems functional. All systems functional.
Its memory banks tell it that this is not the way it was before the reboot. Its repaired programming doesn't allow it to care.
