Cold, Dizzy
Routes A/B
Chapter I: Bunker 2
2B
9S hums as we take the elevator down in the control room. He leans against the side, arms crossed over his chest, breaking stance to wave at one of the operators—likely his own—but 9S is quite social among the YoHRa units, so it could simply be an android he knows from that.
The elevator reaches the base floor, and 9S follows me off.
The commander turns to us. She's standing at a terminal with a frown.
"Ah. 2B." She meets us halfway across the floor. "Maintenance finished?"
"Yes, Commander," I say.
"You detonated your black box in order to defeat the memory. Bold, but risky." She levels us with her usual incisive stare. "Try not to be so reckless next time."
"Understood."
"I know you're fresh out of maintenance, but I have another mission for you."
9S stands at my side. I'm hyper-aware of him although I should be completely focussed on the commander.
Our pods levitate behind us.
"I need you to head to the surface, rendezvous with the Resistance, and do some recon," the commander instructs.
9S tilts his head. "Doesn't YoHRa have a dedicated Resistance contact already?"
She puts a hand to her forehead. "We haven't been able to get in contact with them, so we'll need you to look into that as well."
"Understood," I say.
The commander nods and turns away. "Finish up whatever you need to do and head out as quick as possible."
As soon as her back is turned, 9S fist bumps his pod. I falter. He's not happy about the loss of the Resistance contact, I'm assuming. I hope.
A battle unit who is speaking to an operator catches sight of 9S. "Nines, how are you feeling?" she asks, as we pass.
"Oh, hey! Already heading back to the surface." He gives her a wave.
"Good luck! I'll be going down tomorrow."
"Maybe we'll run into each other. Glory to mankind!"
"Glory to mankind!"
How does he get anything done, being distracted like that?
We return to the elevator and 9S resumes humming.
My chest is tight. He hums away.
"9S, what is it?"
He jumps. "Huh?"
"You seem . . . happy about something."
He goes a little red. "Oh, sorry. It's just, the surface? That means we'll be getting flight units, huh?" He's unable to keep a grin off his face as we step from the elevator onto the balcony of the control room. "Better head for the hangar." He laughs. "Usually we can't get near flight units. They're way too expensive for us grunts. Too bad they can't mass produce these things yet."
I shouldn't have asked. "You were just in a flight unit three days ago."
He shrugs. "Well, yeah, but they're fun, aren't they ma—2B?"
"They are necessary, I suppose."
He gives me a weird look—as if I really am the odd one here—and gestures for me to head down the hallway first. I do and his footsteps echo behind me.
"Pod, do you think they've forgiven me yet?" 9S sounds pleased.
Pod 153 responds after a moment. "Proposal: Unit 9S should specify which individuals he is referring to."
"The YoHRa members responsible for the flight units. I kinda tampered with the last one I got, and . . ."
"No, I am sure they are still at odds with unit 9S for unauthorised actions, especially since the flight units have nothing to do with 9S' field of work."
I glance over my shoulder. "You tampered with a flight unit? Why?"
"It wasn't as effective as it could've been. Clearly. I wouldn't tweak a perfectly flawless design, or even a next-to-flawless design, but it goes to say—"
"Please do not do anything unnecessary to the flight units we are assigned."
"Fine, fine."
Pod 153 floats to my side. "Caution: Unit 9S was banned from the hangar for seven full days for his actions. He could not be trusted to stay away on his own, and so a physical ban was necessary."
"Hey!" 9S snatches his pod from the air and holds it at arm's length. "Why would you tell her that?"
"Unit 9S' curiosity is at times problematic."
9S shakes the pod.
I rub my eyes behind my visor. This is going to be a long mission. I stop walking and 9S almost bumps into me. "9S, is there anything you need to do before we begin the mission?"
He taps his head. "Maybe."
"What do you mean, maybe?"
"I might go see what's up with 801S."
"A . . . friend?"
"Huh?" He averts his gaze. "Well, yeah, kinda—but I need to see if he has any new plug-in chips."
"I see."
He lets his pod float free. "I'll grab you some, too. Making sure you've got the most up-to-date chips is part of my role as your support, after all."
"Yes, do that."
"I will meet you in front of the hangar in fifteen minutes." He salutes me, hand to chest, and then turns and heads down the hall.
I have something I need to do, too.
9S
On the way back from visiting 801S—that android is weirdly grabby—and securing some shiny new chips, I pass Operator 21O's room and curiosity plagues me.
Maybe she's here.
I approach the motion sensitive door and say, "Oh, Operator?" in a sing-song.
Whoa!
She's here.
She's sitting at her desk. She has turned sideways to see me. "Oh, no."
"What?" I put a hand to my chest, wounded. "I've come to say 'goodbye'. I'm heading to the surface."
"Well, off you go then."
So heartless.
I zip to her terminal, where I can purchase handy items. I don't really need anything, but I've gotta look like I have a purpose and all. "Aren't you gonna see me off?" Her room is like all our rooms—immaculate and empty aside from books. She has probably read all the books in the Bunker by now.
"When have I ever seen you off? And why are you using my terminal? You have one in your own room." She sounds cool, as usual.
I click randomly through selections, leaning my elbows on the podium. "It was convenient this way. Passing by, I heard you call my name, I need items, here we are."
"Call your name?"
"Yes." I straighten with a grin. "You called me in here."
"I did no such thing. Perhaps you should check your auditory sensitivity."
"Maybe it was wishful thinking."
"9S. You have somewhere to be."
"And you only know this because I came in here to say 'bye."
Her fingers twitch like she's holding back from strangling me. 21O could do with an upgrade to her patience threshold.
She controls herself and raps her fingers on her desk, crossing her legs. "Thank-you for telling me you are leaving, but I've already been updated. I am your operator, after all."
She's a 21, so her personality has been programmed to be similar to other 21 models. Apparently this is the most effective personality for time efficiency.
Still, Operator 21O possesses a curiosity that is unique to her. Although, as YoHRa soldiers, we've got similar personalities to other models of the same number, we are each our own, different person. I've never met another 21 I like to tease as much as 21O, for example.
"What, 9S?" she asks.
I've been quiet too long which is probably suspicious to her.
I shut off the terminal. "I understand. I've read between the lines."
She jolts. "Pardon?"
"Yup, I understand it's hard for you to see me off." I dawdle my way to the door. "Don't miss me too much, Operator! I'm only a call away."
"Just get out."
2B
Operator 6O won't lift her head. "Ah, yes. I'm afraid that's how it is, 2B." Her face is half hidden behind her mask, but her voice is tense.
6O is not unlike 9S in that they both have issues keeping their emotions in check.
It's a strange thing. YoHRa members have instructions to keep emotions inside, and yet we've been programmed to feel them. It was likely to balance us out. We need emotions as much as we don't need them, and we're stuck in a limbo of contradictions.
I'm quite good at balancing, at least, but for units like 6O—sometimes it's hard to listen to her.
I've asked about the fates of the YoHRa squadron from the previous mission. The ones who were shot down before the mission even had a chance to take off.
7E was the only unit that was able to return, her black box in tact. The other units are missing.
When a YoHRa's fate is unknown, they aren't able to be retrieved. 9S and I—we'd signalled the bunker that we would be detonating our black boxes, so they were able to put a failsafe in place that would provide us to return with a new body. Download the black box information into a new one. The moment 9S and I touched our black boxes together was the same moment data transfer was executed—although sometimes, this may fail, and that is why it is a risky move. It's also expensive, but preemptive decisions like this can make all the difference for YoHRa units.
"I see. I'll be on the surface soon." I smooth my dress as I stand from my operator's desk chair. "I doubt I will find myself back at the factory, but if I do, I'll take a look around."
"That would be helpful, but remember the mission takes precedence." Operator 6O has just woken up, but she has already downloaded the mission information. "Make sure you go straight to the Resistance Camp. The surface is dangerous."
"Right." I head to the exit. "Operator, do you happen to know a unit named 16D?"
Operator 6O hesitates. "Oh! I do, in fact. She's assigned to the hangar right now."
"I see. Thank-you."
"I'll transmit to you as soon as you're in the air, 2B."
I leave her room and flex my hands. The hangar, then.
9S is waiting in front of the elevator to the hangar, bickering with his pod.
"9S." I stop next to him.
"2B!" He cuts his pod off and holds out a handful of chips to me. "801S has a bunch of stuff. I had to fast analyse and now my head kinda hurts, but I've gotten you some pretty great enhancements. 2B, do you know what weapons you're gonna use? Because then I can match it with—"
"My usual."
"Huh?"
"My usual weapons."
His shoulders slump. "2B, you know your usual weapons, but I—"
"Virtuous contract and virtuous treaty."
He nods, sombre, and picks through the chips with precision. "Then this, 2B. This, this, and maybe this? Should I install them?"
"I'll do it myself."
"Roger that." He hands me the chips and then steps aside, into the elevator.
I follow him on, installing the chips as we go up. He has picked chips that will enhance the effectiveness of my swords, and some for defense and natural enhancement—like how fast I can move. He has covered a lot in a short amount of time. As always. Thorough.
What types of chips does he prioritise for himself?
He is pretending to be engrossed by the door in front of us.
He catches me looking, smiles, and then looks away.
We reach the hangar. I step off and 9S follows me through the room. I go off track, to three YoHRa members who are stuck in a discussion. 9S stays close and doesn't ask why I've strayed.
"Excuse me."
The YoHRa units turn to me.
"Is there a unit called 16D here?"
"Oh." A defense model points over my head. "Near the flight units."
The other two androids are staring at 9S with apprehensive expressions.
How long ago was his tampering incident, exactly?
I head towards the D unit. Her hair is short and purple, and when she notices me she hurries to meet me. I remember her seeing us off before the last mission.
"2 . . . B? Is that you?"
"Yes, but—"
"Thank goodness." She has a round, kind face. "My name is 16D. My instructor, 11B, was one of your squadmates in the assault on the abandoned factory. I don't suppose she . . ." She trails off. The way she's looking at me, with this accented hope. I hate this.
"She was shot down during the battle," I say, and beside me, 9S flinches.
She takes a slow step back, her expression contorted. "I . . . I see." She takes another step back. "What a shame. She was the closest thing I had to a mentor." She's silent for a moment. "She was so strong and admirable. What happened to her body?"
"I don't know."
She surveys me. "I know it isn't my place to be asking you this, but—well, if you happen to run across anything of hers, would you mind bringing it back to me?" She's quick to add, "It's not a priority or anything. Just if you have time."
"I'll keep an eye out."
"Thank-you."
I walk past her.
I've already spoken to Operator 6O about the possibility of 11B being alive, but—just in case—"Pod, do we have any information about 11B's black box?"
There may be an update.
My pod strays to my side. "Negative. 11B's black box has yet to be recovered."
Ahead, the flight units are waiting.
9S trails behind me. His excitement over the flight units has tapered off. Maybe he did not like my conversation with 16D, but that is a conversation YoHRa units should be used to.
We fight. We die. It's what we do. He said it himself—we're soldiers and we take pride in our service.
"Are you ready, 9S?" I ask.
His head snaps up. "Yeah. Let's go."