Aside from a few scattered blocks of white carbon, the lake was exactly as 9S remembered it. Whatever subterranean flow fed the reservoir did not disturb the upper waters. Save for where Pod 153 bobbed along in wait, there were scarcely any ripples to disturb the reflective surface.
The deathly stillness comforted him somehow, enough to make him forget he was kind of bored. The caves were unchanged by events on the surface. It felt like an altogether different world.
One where he could think properly.
V leaned limp against a wayward bit of carbon debris. With the podlights off to avoid attracting unwanted attention, the only light source was the faded daylight that shone down from an opening at least half a kilometer above. He had fallen asleep almost as soon as he sat down.
A swell of protectiveness washed over 9S but by the time it permeated him, it was guilt. He had endangered a human-the only human-to feed his own curiosity. How could he have been so stupid?
His fingers sank into his crossed arms. The highs and lows of caring for a human were brand new and already old enough to be annoying.
It was all the same. YoRHa was gone and still he was punished for his curiosity. Only this time there was no one to kill him. No terrible truths to undo himself with. The only punishment was guilt for not doing the one single job that spared him his intended obsolescence. Guilt just as irrational and disconnected from him as some of the things he felt when he looked at V.
The relief and the desire to protect V? Those might be his or they might not be. The craving to know everything about V? For all the good it did him, curiosity came from his personality data, not his other programming. That was him.
But the sense of belonging and the oozing, dreamlike sensation that everything was okay? That wasn't him. That didn't come from any place in him that he claimed as his own.
And 9S wasn't so hypnotized by that forced feeling of fulfillment that he believed V's presence changed anything.
V was just a lone man. The benefits of his presence were real to 9S but that didn't mean they were tangible. He couldn't rebuild humanity, he couldn't rebuild the Earth, and he couldn't change anything in any way that mattered. He was going to die like everyone else. It stirred slight sympathy—after all, V hadn't asked to be there any more than 9S had asked to be made. But he was human, and they aged, and they died by their design. It was only a matter of time.
Griffon and Shadow were much stronger than he thought. The electrical discharge from the fore alone meant V would never be threatened by any of the compact units, and if Shadow could pin something as powerful as a link-type in place, she could probably shred right through any of the medium machines. Who knew what the third one was capable of?
It felt like acid in his veins, but he had accepted that 'a matter of time' was going to be later rather than sooner.
The pod bobbed and broke the surface of the water with a weighty silver fish in its grasp. "REPORT: CARP."
Another swell of pride at successfully finding something V could use. At being something V could use.
It felt fantastic.
It disgusted him.
Deep within a miraculously intact kernel of identity that had nothing to do with his programming or his amorphous but enduring hate, it quietly pleased him to have done something good for someone who was relying on him.
The strain of processing so much contradiction would eventually take him beyond what repairs could fix. If they didn't, V's death would.
That was okay. He had always planned to die anyway; it was just going to take a lot longer than letting the elements rot him out among the tower rubble. He had to stay at V's side. Not for V's sake, nor for his own, and not for a second to appease whatever abhorrent algorithm lurked beyond the reach of his hacking and doled out pleasure or punishment as it saw fit.
"Pod 042?" he called, pressing a finger to his lips for silence as the pod came near. "I'm going to go back up and pick up some of those torches the machines were carrying. Stay with V. Don't let anything happen to him."
Pod 042 flashed his antennae in silent affirmation of the order. A display appeared between them.
Analysis, it read. Unit 9S may frequently need to be away from Subject V in order to procure supplies, undergo maintenance, etc. Proposal: Support Unit Pod 042 should be permanently assigned to Subject V to provide a constant channel of communication and ensure Subject V has support in the event of an emergency.
"Is that possible without a YoRHa ID circuit?"
With Unit 9S' permission, it should remain within acceptable protocols.
"Then do it. If you run into an issue, I'll deal with it when I get back."
With Pod 153 in tow, 9S made his way back toward the upper tunnels.
As long as V lived, it spat in the face of whoever had cursed 2B to repeat their agonizing cycle over and over for nothing. As long as V lived, even if it tore 9S down and ultimately ruined him, he could believe that her suffering had not been pointless.
It was for her, and her alone.
