Double opened the door. "Is Rekir here?" he asked.

A pale, slender reploid answered. Its surface seemed porous, as if it had openings or attachments for something that wasn't on his person. "He is, what do you..."

"Nope! You're doing it wrong!"

The slender reploid sighed. "Good grief! When did you start standing on ceremony?"

Double blinked. "Ceremony?"

"The sign."

Double looked around the outside of the door. Oh, there it was- it had seemed so informal he'd overlooked it at first. It read:

ASSISTANT SQUAD LEADER'S QUARTERS

KNOCK
STATE YOUR NAME
REQUEST ENTRY

It looked like a recent addition. Tape held its corners down.

"Should I-" began Double.

"No," said the slender reploid. "The sign is... ugh. Don't worry about it. I'd take it down, but the last time I did it mysteriously reappeared." His last words were a shout back into the room. Looking at Double, he added, "So come on in."

"Look," came the voice from inside the room, "if you don't defend our turf, no one will."

"It's not our turf anyway," said slender as he reentered. Double followed him.

"It's our rank on the sign, isn't it?"

"The sign you put up."

"It's not my fault these are temporary quarters. We used to have..."

"Here we go," said the slender reploid with a roll of his eyes. "Azzle Rekir's Good Ol' Days."

Azzle- that, Double decided, had to stand for Assistant Squad Leader. Which meant that the speaker was Rekir- and that made Double look twice. Was that really him? He looked so... generic. He was a standard-looking humanoid in green armor. If he had any special features, Double couldn't see them. For all Double knew he'd already met Rekir around Hunter Base, and hadn't given him a second glance.

"You're Rekir?" he said, to confirm.

"That's what the builders called me. And the miscreant who let you in without knocking is Altern, who made Azzle... what, two weeks ago?"

"Three," said Altern defensively. "When our numbers recovered enough to reestablish Sixth Squad."

"See, that's just it," said Rekir. "You weren't an Azzle before the Third Maverick War. If you had been..."

"Here it comes," said Altern to Double.

"...you'd know how nice it is to have a room with a door," Rekir continued. "I used to be able to play my trombone without bothering anyone. Now? People whine. They even whine after I play when I know they were in the tube while I was playing. They whine on principle."

"Why don't you have a room anymore?" Double asked.

"Don't encourage him!" hissed Altern, smacking Double in the shoulder. Double's hands jerked up in belated defense, but he forced them back down.

Given the opening, Rekir kept talking. "I had a room in the old Azzle dorm. It was a lot like the Squad Leader's dorm is now. But then the Third Maverick War happened, and someone..." Rekir gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'X', "...decided to fight one of the big mechs right over the dorm. I understand why, it makes sense- we were all turned out, so there was no one there. No collateral casualties. Still, it wrecked our home. Now we're jammed into two hallways with a couple of common rooms."

"That's a lot like what the squads have," Altern pointed out.

"Exactly! So it's a downgrade for the Azzles. If I have to put up with an Azzle's workload, I at least want my own room."

"Just accept promotion already. You've got the time in service for sure."

Rekir smiled craftily. "That's not happening. Don't ask me why, but I've got my reasons."

Double nodded. "So you've been working with Zero for a long time, then."

"Since before the First Maverick War."

Double's eyes widened. "Wow! That's back when Sigma was still Commander!"

All humor left Rekir. "Don't talk to me about the Traitor."

He managed, somehow, to pronounce the capital letter. Double's mouth opened, but then he folded in contrition. "Sorry, sorry... I didn't realize you had a short there."

Altern jostled Douglas' shoulder. "Don't worry about it. He's just giving you the Old Grumpy Bot routine. Even though he's not that much older than I am, he just came to the Hunters earlier. And Signas is younger than any of us, and they're talking about standing up a whole new squad just so he can be its leader."

"He can have it," said Rekir. "I don't want it. Look, I'm not trying to be grumpy. I just want a door. Apparently that's too much to ask for. So if I can't have a door, I'll set up something that's close. Assuming I get even a little help, anyway," he finished with a dagger-stare at Altern.

"I'm not going to apologize," said Altern. "You got used to your luxuries, and now that you don't have them you make funny noises. That works for me. Rekir, our guest is already inside, so let's stop being rude to him. What's on your mind..."

"...Double."

"Double... you're new here, aren't you?"

"Very. I'm helping out the Operators and admins for now. That's why they sent me down. A request came in for Zero, but the admins told me to find you instead."

Rekir huffed. "Figures. What kind of request?"

"Have you heard of GARRD?"

"I haven't," said Rekir. He looked at Altern. "You?"

"Yes, actually," said Altern. "They're a government-run research lab for high-end reploids. I don't know what they'd want from Zero, though."

"They want a spar," Double said. "They've got a new fighting reploid they want to pit against Zero."

Altern scoffed. "Are they serious? Do they know about Zero?"

"They did ask for him by name," Double said.

"No, I get that, but... it's Zero! Sudden-Deathman! The Red Demon!"

Rekir grinned. "Someone's a little traumatized."

"I'm not traumatized," Altern said, defensive again, "I just know what he can do first-hand."

"That's right. You were part of that training exercise. How long did you last again?"

Altern bashfully put a hand behind his head. "Uh... about seven seconds. Don't laugh, how long did you ever last against him?"

"How stupid do I look?"

"Just stupid enough."

"Okay, so maybe looks are deceiving. The point is, I've been Zero's Azzle for years. I've never felt even the slightest urge to push my luck."

"Well," said Double, "it's what GARRD wants. Even if you know it's one-sided, they want it. The question I was sent to ask is, does Zero want it?"

Altern looked at Rekir. "They're asking you what Zero wants, huh?"

"I know better than anyone. Plus, like I told you, I do the scheduling and paperwork for Zeroth Squad, so I can tell you if we can support it. That's the arrangement Zero and I have. It's how we both want it." Rekir's voice was much the same as before, but he was no longer cheery.

"Wow," said Double, impressed. "Zero really relies on you, doesn't he?"

Rekir frowned.

By any reasonable expectation, Rekir should have long-since been killed in action. His physical capabilities were nothing special, and Hunters died (or rebelled) all too frequently. He'd outlived generations of peers, and those peers' successors were at a loss to explain it.

Privately, Rekir credited three reasons for his improbable longevity. First, he clung tightly to Zero's coattails. Second, he had enough luck to make an Irishman jealous. Third, he had a naturally strong survival instinct, honed to razor sharpness by years of combat.

That instinct was trilling at him now.

Rekir sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. It made Double suddenly self-conscious. "Did I say something wrong?" the yellow reploid asked.

"No," said Rekir. "I don't think so. Tell me more about this request. It just doesn't sound right."

Double shrugged. "I don't know much more than what I told you. GARRD asked. Commander Grant said he'd ask Zero, and now he's asking."

"Ohhh," said Rekir, "so this is a request from the Commander?"

"I wouldn't put it like that," said Double. "I don't know all that's going on, but the word 'politics' keeps coming up."

"Uh oh," said Altern. "That's a buster with no safety."

"You beat me to it," Rekir said. Politics. Asking for a spar with someone of Zero's level... no, that was the wrong way to think about it. No one else was on Zero's level, except maybe X. Rekir knew that better than anyone, but plenty of people knew Zero by reputation. Certainly people in anti-Maverick circles. What was going on, then?

Politics. There was a reason for this that Rekir just couldn't see. It was like a trap set by Mavericks. Rekir knew the ambush was there, he just couldn't see when or how or where. But this was coming from Commander Grant. If he was anything like Rekir, he knew the best way to deal with a trap: throw Zero into the teeth of it, let him make a mess, and pick up the pieces afterwards.

"Well, no one can hold Zero back from a fight when one's offered," Rekir said truthfully. "He'll go for it. I'll look at the schedule and see when he's available."

"Thank you," said Double. "I'll take that answer back to the admins."

"Alright."

Double started looking around. "Is there... um..."

"What?"

"...a sign that tells me how to leave?"

"No, you just go," said Rekir.

"And try not to die out there," pitched in Altern.

Rekir shook his head as the door shut. "You don't have to try and scare him."

"The senior Hunters made sure I was scared. I'm just paying it forward."

"I liked you more when you were like a basset hound in armor," said Rekir, but his heart wasn't in it. His instincts were all a-thrum. Something wasn't right. The conversation bothered him, and the worst part was he didn't know why.

Maybe Zero will figure something out when the spar happens.

Wait a minute. I'm counting on Zero for something other than killing stuff.

Yeah, right.

"...if the footage is any good, then we'll be using it for the 'casts," the human was saying, but Zero barely noticed. He was uninteresting, and he was talking about uninteresting things. Zero was focused on his opponent. Even Iris, watching in the background, was beneath his consideration.

He'd seen Colonel before, had seen him move a little bit, and had done his initial estimation. It was a rough cut at best. Walking around was completely different from moving at combat speeds. Any more data he could glean would be helpful. Exhibition or not, Zero did not intend to lose this fight.

Colonel was bigger than Zero and more massive, that much was obvious even without detailed modeling. But then, Zero's enemies usually were. The question was whether or not Colonel could control that mass and use it. If he didn't, Zero would use it against him.

"Here you go," the human said, gesturing to a long piece of metal. "We can't have you dicing each other up with beam sabers, now can we?" Zero took the faux-sword. The imbalance of it offended him. He said nothing, which gave the human a chance to ramble on. "Plus it'll look better on the 'cast. Any last questions about the rules?"

Zero hadn't realized there would be rules. He saw that Colonel was looking at him, patiently and expectantly. Their gazes met. Colonel even smiled.

They understood each other, Zero thought. There would not be rules- at least, no rules set by anyone else. The fighters would do as they pleased. This was between them.

Zero stepped forward with the "sword" at the ready. Colonel flourished his version and advanced. As the newbuilt approached, he commanded all of Zero's attention. This was the point, he knew, where X would be entering combat mode.

Zero was already there. Always.

While Colonel was still approaching, still walking, Zero charged forwards. Colonel swung into his attacker- either he'd expected this or his reflexes were superb. Zero saw it early and shorted his lunge, swinging not for Colonel but to influence his weapon. Batter it out of the way, then strike home- except that the impact (with a deafening clang and a shriek from Iris) left neither bot with an advantage. Zero pushed back to break the clinch and reset. Without hesitation Colonel swept in with a broad swing- wide arc, max torque. It was the sort of strike Zero might have exploited, except that he was moving backwards and he decided not to stop himself. Instead he took another step backwards, clearing the arc of the metal. It passed right before his eyes. He planted to begin a new charge.

Colonel hadn't stopped!

His shoulder, and the large spike atop it, were lowered now, as Colonel morphed his swing into a bull rush. Too close to dodge or swing against, so Zero lowered his own shoulder and smashed against Colonel's torso below his arm. In his head, Zero swapped his right arm to buster and shot Colonel twice, disabling his leg; in reality, he hesitated to see what Colonel's next move would be. That move was to twist like a wrestler to throw Zero down. Zero tumbled, boosted to clear away from any follow-up, and whirled.

Now a little bit of range was back, enough to pause. When Colonel took up his stance again, Zero saw something.

A smile on his face.

With surprise, Zero realized he was smiling, too. That's when it came to him: he was having fun.

Colonel darted forward again, mass belying grace. Experimentally Zero tried to disengage and draw away. Colonel pounced, pressed. Back to close combat. Their cudgels collided with such violence it shook their bodies. The reverberations filled the room with a cacophony of clashing metal. Zero matched him, blow for blow, chasing no advantages and letting Colonel try to push him around.

If he'd been trying to kill Colonel, he knew, he wouldn't be fighting like this. Tactical noted that this was negative training. Yet Colonel was still strong and skilled enough that matching him was a challenge of its own, one Zero relished. And Colonel was trying so hard, and smiling—he had to feel the same.

Zero ducked under the next strike and lashed out with a leg, whirling to sweep away Colonel's plant foot. The other warbot lifted the foot instead, avoiding the attack, before stepping into a mighty downward stroke. Zero met it halfway with a rising block, locking them into place again. Zero knew he could slide away to the left, into Colonel's blind side, and bring him down.

But then the spar would be over. That was unacceptable.

This felt right. This felt good. This wasn't a spar with X, which was always fleeting, always over too soon. This wasn't a Hunt, which was a guilty pleasure, or a war, which was too stressful to truly enjoy. This...

If this went on forever, Zero could be happy.

Instead he broke away and let Colonel chase him. Colonel's style, Zero decided as they danced, was one of directed aggression. He didn't appear to contemplate other approaches. Zero was okay with that. He could maintain against that indefinitely. He shifted to a defensive footing and welcomed Colonel in. And he laughed.

"Good grief, is that a smile?"

"Let me freeze a frame. There, and a zooooom... Whoa. That smile makes every other smile feel better about itself."

"Look at those canines! It's like an animal. That's creepy as hell."

"I know Zero's supposed to be this great hero and all, but..."

"I know what you mean. I get Mega Man, at least."

"X."

"Mega Man X."

"Fine."

"The point is, I get him, kinda. The news coverage of him makes him sound like a nice guy who was pushed too far. I can get that. This guy, though... something about him just feels wrong. I've never heard of him doing any interviews."

"Ever feel like they keep him away from us media types on purpose?"

"Maybe- whoa! That was pretty."

"Who's winning?"

"I don't think anyone's winning. If someone is I can't tell. They look even across the board."

"Yeah, I gotta admit, I didn't think Colonel could hang with the Red Demon. GARRD hit a home run this time."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Huh? Aren't we seeing it now?"

"This is a spar. It doesn't count."

"Whatever you say. Look, we've got enough footage, and the right kinds of footage. GARRD will be happy with this. We can stop now."

"Alright, I'll send the signal."

A horn blared out. Zero paid it no mind. Irrelevant.

Opening! Strike-

Colonel wasn't moving. Why?

Zero froze just before his weapon hit home, though it was close enough that Colonel flinched. "Why'd you stop?" Zero asked.

"That was the signal to stop," Colonel said with a step backwards. "Don't you remember?"

Zero embraced his disappointment to hide his embarrassment. "It's over, then?"

Colonel laughed. "We could have fought like that forever, I think. Or at least until we ran out of power and shut down."

Zero looked at the useless metal in his hands, dented and damaged from the force of the blows. Much more and it might have given way. There was, he realized, no way the spar could have gone on as long as he'd hoped.

Already he could feel boredom on the edges of his awareness. Already he hated it. "I wish we could've gone on fighting," he said bitterly. "We need to do this again."

"Sure."

Zero blinked, caught off-guard in a way that couldn't have happened in battle. "What?"

"I have duties that need attending to," Colonel said reasonably, "and they must be first priority, but when they're not in the way? Yes, I want to spar with you as often as possible."

The words were having a hard time sticking in Zero's mind. "Really?"

"Of course!" roared Colonel happily. "Fighting at the highest level is my whole reason for existence, and you provide me the best fight I could hope to find. It's an honor to test my skills against you, a Hunter of legend."

Zero smiled like a kid who's just realized the ice cream truck is stopping for him. "I'll spar with you any time you want," he promised Colonel. "I don't get to have fun very often, and this qualifies."

"I'm glad to hear that. You have my respect." At that, Colonel raised his saber before his face, then dropped his hand to his waist, wrist out, sword-tip nearly on the ground.

The gesture puzzled Zero. That position was not a fighting stance; it was all wrong. It must have some other meaning. Looking at Colonel it was clear the newbuilt expected a response, but a frantic search of Zero's memory revealed nothing. This wasn't something he'd ever needed to know.

"Do I not have your respect yet?" Colonel said, half-disappointed, half-angered.

"You do," Zero replied- he was getting good at guessing which answer people wanted when they gave him binary questions.

"Then why won't you return my salute?"

The word 'salute' was practically a foreign one. It took a noticeable time to call it up—and when it came, it occurred to Zero that he'd never saluted anyone. Colonel was expecting him to do something outside himself.

The sense of out-of-place, of unbelonging, of embarrassment swept through Zero. It was never far away, and now it surged through his mind. Every sense of rightness he had built up during the spar vanished. It made him want to-

No.

His body tensed as pseudo-muscles tried to push and pull in opposed directions. The net effect was that Zero expended great effort to not move. No, he reminded himself again. Iris moved into his field of vision- double no.

Then what was he supposed to do?

Don't know. Do nothing.

Colonel's wrist twitched, bringing the sword closer to a fighting posture—Zero recognized that. "I thought we understood each other," he growled.

Iris' voice cut in. "Don't stress-test him, brother. He's doing his best."

The warbots looked at the empath, who smiled brightly. "You like each other a lot! You both had fun from that spar. You have a lot in common." Her laugh was a tinkling sound. "I suppose you'll get in tiffs like this- it's just who you are, you can't help yourselves. Just remember not to take it too seriously. You'd hate it if you couldn't get along."

Colonel's expression softened. He nodded affably. "You know best," he said. "No hard feelings," he added to Zero.

Zero couldn't respond so easily. He felt... stripped. Exposed. Like his armor had fallen off and she could see his inner workings. He wanted to protect himself, and couldn't, not against...

What was she doing to him?

He tried to define it, came up empty, and threw the problem to his comparative subroutine. Comparative offered up X.

The thought shook Zero so seismically that self-protect punted it to memory to consider later. Combat mode was still engaged, after all, and it had priority for resources.

Then again, it always did.

"I'm not a danger to you," Iris said, looking at Zero with eyes he found piercing. "But you know that- that's why you're so confused. That's okay. Your confusion is safe for me."

It felt false and true at the same time. Zero couldn't deal with it. He turned, hair flicking, and walked away. Flight, he reflected, was a tactic even he had to use sometimes.

"This isn't the first time I've had to pick you up like this," X said. Dr. Cain didn't reply. He was busy handing in his orange jumpsuit. The warden behind the counter took it and began giving back Cain's personal effects. X waited until Cain had pocketed the last, leaving Cain out of excuses. The cane was the final item; Cain visibly sagged onto it when he had it. X helped him get started, and together they walked for the exit to the jailhouse.

"You're like the drunk friend who keeps getting tossed in jail," X went on, "and I'm the responsible friend who..."

"That's not funny," Cain snapped.

X's smile died. "Sorry. I was practicing humor."

"Don't feel bad. It's a sore spot for me, but I don't think you knew. When I was young- well," Cain looked down at himself, "younger, I got discouraged from time to time. When I got too discouraged, sometimes I would seek chemical relief. I'd drink," he clarified with a glance at X. "Never too heavily, I had control enough for that. But consistently. I started off by drinking when I was deeply discouraged. Then I started drinking whenever I was a little bit discouraged. Then I started getting discouraged all the time. Eventually I admitted that I was drinking when I wasn't discouraged. At that point, there was nothing to keep me from drinking all the time. So I did."

"I understand, I think," X said. "I can't relate directly, but I can imagine."

The look Cain gave was sympathetic. "Oh, X, I know how you want that to be true. You're very sincere. But the truth is, you can't understand just how... powerful, how... subversive addiction is. It's a hook in the brain. It's this pull in your head that you know is external, but it's real and you at the same time, and it has a hold of you, and even if you know you don't want it you also do. Addiction steals your mind away from you."

"You stole it back, though," X objected. "I haven't seen you take a drink in the whole time I've known you." He gave Cain a mock-stern look. "You haven't had Hunters sneaking booze into Hunter Base, have you?"

"No. I've been insufferably sober for years. Since I dedicated myself to finding you, actually- it was too much of a liability, given how dangerous a game I was playing."

"Good for you! You beat it, then."

"See, this is the part..." Cain sighed. "You know about backdoors, right? After a hacker penetrates a system, he installs an easy way for him to get back in another time. I'm still addicted, X. The backdoor's still there. I'm an alcoholic to this day. I just happen to be sober right this second."

X opened the door to the Hunter van. The step-up was high, designed for combat reploids rather than creaky old men, so X boosted Cain up. The man leaned back and closed his eyes while he caught his breath.

"Aren't you going to buckle up?" X asked.

"Huh? Oh." Cain complied, slowly. "Sorry. It's been a while."

X started the van and pulled away. He made sure he was safely in the flow of evening traffic before he spoke again. "You never told me about this before," he said.

Cain shrugged.

"Don't do this, Dr. Cain. You always have a purpose in mind when you say or do something."

"Now who's parsing everything?"

"I wouldn't have to parse if you weren't being so obtuse. It's just us in this van. No one's listening in."

Another shrug. "I wanted to point out how debilitating it can be to have that kind of problem. It's hard going through life with a crippled brain. There's no hidden meaning here. It just came up."

X cocked his head. "That'd be unusual for you. It's not the truth. I'm not as strong an empath as Iris, but I'm a pro at reading patterns. You've been thinking about this a lot. The words flowed so easily."

Cain clammed up.

X thought about it while he navigated a turn. "Even if I can't relate to addiction," he said, slowly, "I know who can. Colonel and Iris. You inflicted a form of addiction on them. They're addicted to each other. Their connection is the very definition of a backdoor in the brain."

That was safer ground. "It's a little different for them because it's unequal. Colonel can't function without Iris. Iris technically could. Of course, she'd have to survive losing the link first. Going cold turkey from that, traumatically, instantly? She'd be lucky to stay sane, if worst came to worst."

Emotion began to rise in X. "They're both in combat-related occupations! That's a very real risk they're running. And you willfully set that up for two reploids..."

"No."

"...huh? What do you mean?"

"Iris is a reploid," said Cain, wringing his hands, "but Colonel is not. I don't know what I'd call him, but he's not a reploid. To me, he's missing some vital properties..."

"And that gives you license to do whatever you want?" X said hotly. "He isn't a reploid, so you're free to act?"

Cain rested back in his seat. "Jail took a lot out of me. We can talk more later."

X steadied himself before replying. "Now you're getting evasive. You only do that when you're not sure you made the right choice. If you were sure you'd be spitting venom at me."

Cain frowned as X took a turn. "Are we driving in circles?"

"We can't go back yet," X said. "I need your tongue free. I will know the truth."

Cain harrumphed. "Then we might be driving for a while, because you've got it all wrong."

X kept his eyes out the front. "I've been trying to understand why you'd do that to Colonel. What did he ever do to you? He hadn't even been activated. It's like you were so angry they changed the design... No, no, that's not how you operate. Too spiteful. You'd never let that drive you. It's the opposite: you care for your creations. You're bad at showing it, but you do. So when you did this, you'd have to think it was somehow good for Colonel."

Cain turned in his seat so he was facing away, out the window.

"Did you expect Colonel's boot-up to fail like it did? You must have expected it to fail somehow. You had a Hunter standing by to drive you to GARRD. You knew this was coming- knew something was coming. Did you project that exact failure mechanism?"

Cain leaned against the window, hard, and jammed his eyes closed.

"I'll take that as a yes. Either way, you had time to plan. You designed this fall-back in advance. What you did to Colonel was more than willful. It was premeditated. But... you premeditated this? You had all that time to think of a solution, and that's what you came up with? After hearing the way you talked about addiction, it must have been agony for you to foist that on someone, especially someone you cared about."

"I'm trying to sleep, X."

"There isn't any upside for Colonel. It's pure liability. That would explain why you're so conflicted."

"I don't want to be here," Cain said. "I want to go to Hunter Base."

"Not yet."

"I won't answer your questions, so I don't need to be here. You can ramble about on your own time. You don't have to hold me hostage for that."

X didn't acknowledge the words. "What higher purpose is there to crippling Colonel? There must be one if you weren't trying to help Colonel personally."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"What am I doing?" X asked. "I'm just thinking out loud. I know how to use silence, Dr. Cain, and you're using it wrong. You're just letting me go. I'll keep going until you speak- I've got all night."

"I won't!"

"Why not? Can't you trust me?"

"Probably only you," Cain was forced to admit.

"Then tell me why. Why? Why cripple two brains like this?"

"Colonel was already crippled," Cain muttered.

"You said that- crippled by the change to his design. Your design, the design you wanted to use to advance robotics..." X's eyes widened. "Colonel wasn't a one-off, was he?"

"He was supposed to be the prototype," Cain said miserably. "All Repliforce was going to be based off of him."

"But they won't be now," X said carefully. "The only way GARRD knows to make Colonel work is impractical for full-scale production. No one would sign off on a breed of brain-conjoined twins. Your fix to Colonel... it was sabotage."

Cain began to cry.

"And that means all of your tech advances, the miscegenation you wanted... it'll get rolled back, too. They'll use standard reploids to fill Repliforce's ranks." X's voice was awed. "Dr. Cain, you prevented robotics from advancing. That's your very highest ideal, and you thwarted it! Why? I've got to know!"

"I couldn't let them do it to anyone else!" Cain said as tears rolled down his cheeks. "They made it so Colonel can't grow much, can't develop. He's static, now, when no reploid is. He's no reploid, they made him something else. Something... less. Don't you see? All Repliforce was going to be like that! GARRD was willing to make reploids retarded in a foolhardy attempt to make them safe. I couldn't let that happen. Couldn't! It's not fair to reploids to have that gift of mind- that precious gift!- compromised."

He looked down. "It would mean everything I wanted- everything I thought I was doing by building reploids... Reploids were my great gamble, you see. I wagered that giving robots free will was more important- a higher good- than guaranteeing their loyalty." He trembled. "I can be the Man Who Allowed the Maverick Wars. I can deal with that- but not if I was wrong. Not if reploids were a mistake."

His eyes looked to X. "Am I wrong? Was I wrong?"

The van came to a stop. When its engine ran down, there was no sound.

"You are no son of mine," X said, "but I am very proud of you."

Cain's head jerked in surprise. Then his eyes widened with recognition. "You magnificent bastard," he breathed. "I said those words to you, once upon a time."

"They meant a lot to me," X said, before suddenly turning sheepish. "Did they work? It's hard for me to know sometimes."

Cain sniffed. "Did you actually mean it, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

X sighed. "Just for once, don't parse. What did the words mean on the surface?"

Cain shuddered. "That might be... no, it is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

The van's headlights timed out and turned off. It was dark as well as quiet.

"I would have helped you," X said. "I think your actions were correct. If you'd have asked, I would have helped. You didn't tell me. You never do."

"You did help me, though," Cain said. "When you came down and we talked, your words... they told me I was right. After we talked, I was confident enough to actually... go through with it. And even then, I doubted. You were right about that, you damnably clever machine."

"And you still didn't tell me." X shook his head. "I wish you would have."

"If I promise I will next time, will you let me go inside and sleep?"

X thought he saw the slightest of smiles at the edge of Cain's mouth. Things were going to be fine, he decided. He would tell the doctor the new limitations on his freedom later. Tonight was about closure. "Sure. Let me help you get down."

As X circled around the outside of the van, Cain whispered, "You've helped enough."

To be continued...