Being a Navigator is difficult.
Earlier this morning Alia has given Iris a seat in front of the monitor. All Iris had to do was take the first response calls, get the gist, and pass them to the appropriate operator.
Iris was at her fifth call when she broke down.
"He said his father was hurting his mother and I could hear her screaming in the background and the little boy - he sounded so young and s-scared," Iris explains tearfully to a bewildered Alia. "I t-tried to forward the call to the p-police, but he told me not to leave, I'm sorry…"
"All you needed to do was ask if there was a Maverick involved or not," the senior Navigator says, one hand sliding down the back of her blonde hair before it hangs on her nape, incredulous. "You're not supposed to ask for more details."
"He kept on asking me to help him…"
"Iris, if there isn't a mech involved it's outside of our jurisdiction."
Rubbing her overflowing tears with the back of her small hands, Iris tries to hold back her hiccups. She's aware that there are more than one pair of eyes watching her and she bows her head in shame.
"I wonder if you have a problem with your suffering circuit," Alia wonders aloud. "For a reploid, you feel so much for people you don't know. Almost too much. You're like…"
The Navigator suddenly cuts herself off. She shakes her head. "Never mind. You're just young, new, and stressed. Take an early refuel break and come back here at thirteen thirty hours."
Which brings Iris sitting by herself at a very empty canteen now. The cafeteria is more of a social space since reploids can easily receive some fuel from the giant vending machines and go back to work. Reploids who take the time to linger here are usually here to spend a quick break with some companions then move on. Since it's still the middle of a major shift block, Iris spots only a couple reploids getting what they need, drinking as they briskly walk back to their stations.
Meanwhile she's here nursing an e-tank in her hands being useless while everyone else is working hard to help people.
It's not a good feeling to have.
"Colonel, are you there?" Iris calls out in her private channel with her brother. She does not want to be alone with her thoughts right now.
The brunette reploid becomes more and more subdued as the time burns without a response. Then a familiar, minor static from the other end has Iris perking up, her mood lifting up as Colonel greets," Sorry, Iris. I was at a briefing."
"Oh, if you're busy I'll leave you alone. I don't want to impose on you…"
"It's fine, the briefing is done. What's wrong?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You feel tired. But more than tired. You're…"
Iris can sense Colonel's struggle. He's trying to find the right words.
"Unhappy," he says finally. "Actually, you should be working right now, aren't you? Did something happen?" His voice grows a low, hard edge to it. "Did someone happen?"
"No! Nothing's wrong!" Iris hurries to reassure. "Well, something is but it's not anyone else's fault but…mine…" She trails off, hands squeezing her e-tank even tighter.
"What do you mean?"
It takes ten minutes for Iris to explain what happened at work to her brother. She tries to emulate the cool, professional tones that other Hunters tend to use when they give a report, but remembering the crying boy makes her throat tight and her words waver as she finishes.
Colonel is silent for a whole minute. Iris blurts out," I'm sorry, you must think I'm being stupid. I care too much and it's hindering my work."
"What? No." Colonel is flabbergasted. "I wasn't thinking that at all. Why would you think like that?"
Iris draws back within herself. "I-I'm sorry, you weren't saying anything and for a moment I was scared that you thought I was being really weird or acting pathetic or – " the Navigator trainee bends forward to lightly tap her forehead on the edge of her fuel container. "I'll just shut up now."
"You really care about what I think of you," Colonel observes.
"Of course. You mean so much to me."
Colonel makes a noise that sounds like he's exventing heavily through his nose.
"Back to the point, I wasn't thinking of that at all. In fact, I was about to say that it's amazing how much you truly see everyone as people."
"I'm not sure I understand. Isn't everyone people?"
"That's – ," Iris' brother pauses, and the young Navigator can feel the other reploid mentally backtracking. "Let me explain. For the past week I've been given report after report of the violence statistics in Abel and the other cities that some of Repliforce's troops will be stationed in. I know that the numbers involve real people but I didn't see them as such. I simply saw my work cut out for me and the anger I felt were against the evil people out there running amok and continually spewing their waste about. But listening to you and remembering that these are innocent victims, I also now feel angry on their behalf and the injustice of it all. Any of those people could be good people like you."
"And that's…good?" Iris phrases like a question.
"It is good. I am reminded again that my work is meaningful despite how seemingly unending it is. That's thanks to you."
"I'm glad I can do something right. I want to get better at my directive," Iris wishes fervently. "Right now I'm just in everyone's way…"
"You can get better."
"How can I? I can still hear that poor boy in the back of my mind right now, Colonel!"
"Really? Are your aural sensors malfunctioning? Is your memory encoder broken?"
"No, I mean I can't stop thinking about that call," Iris elaborates, both a little amused and fond of her brother's literalness.
"I see. Anyways, if you really want to help you need to hold onto that conviction. Remember your mission above all else. It'll help you keep a steady processor if you focus on the bigger picture. You are your job."
Iris personally sees herself a little less or more than being a half-rated Navigator but she doesn't say anything. Colonel is still talking.
"The more efficient you are in your work, the more you're truly helping people. You understand me, don't you?"
She closes her eyes. "Yes. I do."
"Good. Remember Iris, you and I are two halves of the ultimate reploid. That doesn't mean you are functioning at half capacity. It means half the attributes of what makes the ultimate reploid is in you. You will be successful."
Spring green eyes widen. She saw herself as a failed project but this entire time Colonel has been viewing their circumstances positively. Iris doesn't think she'll ever stop admiring at their individual perspectives.
"That's super inspiring, Colonel," she enthuses sincerely. "I'm so glad I talked to you. You're going to be a wonderful leader."
Iris raises her e-tank and drains it, ready to return to operating.
She can do this.
Every person who calls her is someone in trouble and she needs to get used to it. The faster Iris can get through the calls and divide them to the hierarchy, the faster these people can get the aid they need.
"Hunter Base operator. What is your emergency?"
"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"
"Yes I can hear you. What is your emergency?"
"Oh, thank fucking god - look, the hotarions are going haywire in the northern mines – shit, they're smashing against the goddamn support pillars!"
She's here to help people.
"My co-worker is beating up a customer!"
"Is your co-worker reploid or human?"
"Of course she's a reploid, why else would I be calling the Hunters!?"
She's here to help people.
"My boss is hitting her brother and I'm supposed to take care of her brother, but that's under the order of my boss. My directives are conflicting. I'm stuck. Please, help me."
She's here to help people.
"You're improving," Alia says with the subtlest note of approval when Iris finishes the latest call. "It won't be long until you'll be trained in navigating instead of just filtering and dispatching. Keep it up."
Iris beams.
The ache in her body is a different kind of ache. It's not the ache of consuming thousands of pieces of information and digesting another thousand worries and anxieties. It's the ache of stiff limbs maintaining the same position for hours, of crunched up shoulders hunched over a screen – an ache that slowly leaves her as she leaves the Command Center at the end of her shift.
This time there's no lingering muddiness in either her processor or heart. Iris sees this as a victory.
She's getting better. More importantly, she's becoming more useful.
The brunette reploid gets on one of the many elevators at the west side of the building when she internally goes through any updates in her communications network. She sees a few notifications from her mothers and fathers, asking her if she's functioning fine or if she's experiencing any distress from her end through her link with Colonel. Iris answers them all promptly before mentally pulling up Colonel's schedule in her processor's eye.
Iris wants to give Colonel a call and thank him all over again. However, according to her brother's timetable, he should be involved with a meeting concerning the development of Repliforce's growing air force.
It seems she'll have to talk to him later. She doesn't want to interrupt her brother in the middle of something important after all.
The elevator dings and Iris jumps out from her thoughts, realizing that she hasn't pressed the number to her designated floor. She hurries to press a button but the elevator is already going down floors way lower than where her room is located. She'll just have to wait patiently.
The elevator reaches all the way towards the bottom. When the doors part open, Iris tries not to gasp.
The Zeroth Unit Leader stalks in, holding her gaze for a split second before dismissing her. He presses his floor, which Iris recognizes is where the Unit Leaders' personal quarters are stationed and are much lower than the brunette's. Zero looks exactly as she has seen him the first time but there's an unmistakable glean of dark fluids clinging to the Hunter's arm guards and heels. He's come back from field duty.
"Are you okay?" asks Iris concernedly.
Zero looks at her. His expression doesn't change but his eyes have grown sharper.
The young Navigator raises a hesitant finger and the Hunter follows it to his arms.
Understanding, he says, "This isn't mine."
"Oh, thank goodness." She's genuinely relieved.
Zero's eyes snap back to her again, frowning.
Iris reddens. "I mean, it's not good that you have –"
Hydraulic fluids, energen oil, – reploid blood, someone's blood, someone got injured –
"I-it's not good that you had to fight and that someone had to get hurt, but I'm…I'm glad that you're okay. That you're not the hurt one," she finishes somewhat lamely.
Zero's frown grows deeper. "You're that reploid from before."
That's right, she didn't give her name the first time they met. Iris leaps on the chance to talk about something else.
"Yes! I said hi before but I didn't formally introduce myself. My name is Iris, I go by she, her pronouns, and I'm a Navigator Trainee. I hope we can become good friends, Zero!"
When Zero stares back at her without saying a single word, Iris remembers herself and becomes flustered. "I mean, Captain Zero, sir. Sorry," she adds meekly.
"Why are you apologizing?" he demands.
"I didn't address you respectfully. I'm new, sir," Iris explains. She never had to call her brother Colonel Colonel; not only is it very silly, but his designation is who he is. Positions of authority are not originally names and she really needs to get that into her processor already. "I thought I may have offended you, sir."
"You didn't offend me."
Iris exvents, relieved. "I'm glad, sir."
She didn't know it was possible for Zero to stare at her any harder. Then the elevator announces Zero's destination with a chime.
"Have a good night, sir!" Iris says cheerfully to Zero's leaving back. The Zeroth Unit Leader's slightly turned, frozen mid-step is the last thing she sees when the metal doors close.
"'Navigating Units?'" Double repeats.
Iris nods. "Yup! Alia says that I'm doing better as an operator so she says it's time to teach me what it takes to be a 'real Navigator.'" Sheepishly, she adds," I may not see you as frequently as before. I'm going to be added to the night shift soon."
"Eh, I'm sure we can make things work. I'm really happy for you, Iris," the yellow reploid enthuses. "I'm glad that you're climbing up the ranks!"
"Thanks," says Iris shyly as she takes a small sip out of her e-tank. Ever since Double has become her friend, both reploids are now canteen buddies; if one sees the other sitting alone at the cafeteria, they immediately pair up and sit together.
Iris loves it. She's having so much fun talking to a friendly bot that she's not even midway towards finishing her own fuel while Double has already downed his.
"And what about you, Double? How have you been doing?"
The rotund reploid turns red. He rubs the back of his yellow helm with one hand, awkwardly chuckling. "I'm alright. I'm still a rookie Hunter just rookie'ing around, y'know? The higher ups are still wondering where to sort me so I've been bouncing from one unit to the other and doing things here and there like delivering stuff to the Fourteenth and Seventeenth squads. I'm the resident odd jobs guy."
Iris suddenly feels a little nervous. "Do you really want to fight Mavericks?"
"I did when I first started but let's be honest. I'm not meant to be a fighter, y'know?" Double gestures his own body deprecatingly. "If I get in a real fight, I'd sooner trip and snap a piston before I shoot a gun. Probably would get terminated five minutes into battle."
Iris physically winces at the imagery.
Double catches the reactions and shrugs. "It's just the way I'm designed, Iris. Someone thought stuffing me with lots of fuel tanks was a good idea for long-term tropical environmental research but here I am in Hunter Base and not in some forest."
Vivid green eyes blink. "Environmental research? That's your directive?"
"Was my directive," corrects the yellow reploid. "I was built to be a general assistant for a research team some time ago but apparently I was so useless that I got tossed out."
Alarmed, Iris' white hands shoot up to her mouth. "That's horrible!"
"That's just how the world works. If you're not useful, you get scrapped. Not literally of course, but you might as well be." Double leans back, arms crossed behind his helmet, eyes wistful. "It wasn't easy after I got thrown out. Nobody builds motels for reploids so I couldn't exactly go to a place and get a recharge. I had to rely on my fuel alone to keep going. I could carry a lot of fuel and I was fine for a while, but oh bot let me tell you – never try to go week without real sleep. My circuitry was basically burning by the time I got any help."
Just imagining the hardships her friend has gone through has Iris reeling. "I don't understand. Why didn't your parents help you at all?"
Now it's Double's turn to look confused. "Parents? What are parents?"
Iris is taken aback. "Parents are your mothers and fathers, Double," she says slowly.
"Iris," Double replies just as slowly, "we're reploids. That's not possible. Mothers and fathers are human things."
"But aren't the people who build us kind of like our parents though? They designed us and built us and give us a place to stay for a while. They care about us functioning properly and hope we succeed. Aren't they family?"
They're scientists who were given a directive to build us so we can carry out our directives in turn.
Colonel's words echo in her mind. The way Double is looking at Iris now as if she sprouted a second processor gives her plenty idea of what the other reploid thinks as well.
"Iris, humans don't…aw fritz, I didn't think I'd ever have this conversation with another bot," the yellow robot mutters under his breath. Meeting Iris' eyes, he says, "I don't know who your builders are but I can tell you that the majority of the reploids in Abel City do not see their builders as family. Maybe because you're a custom-built done right that you have something special with your builders, but most reploids are manufactured from a short-term model line in a random factory. You ask a reploid who their designer is and they can't answer you without looking it up."
"I…I didn't know that."
When she and Colonel were first activated, the Repliforce scientists fussed over them. Walked them through in understanding themselves, their surroundings, their directives, and so forth. They provided her everything she needed until they let her and her brother go, and even now she receives messages checking up on her. She always saw that as familial love. If it's not some sort of love, then what is it?
"If other reploids don't even meet their own builders then who takes care of them when they first wake up?" she asks.
"No one really does. Reploids are created to conduct a specific job in mind. Just to give you an example, let's say you're a run-off-the-belt bot from a construction labor line. After you get activated, you go through some general education that's not installed in your programming or data archives like maybe something that's specific to the company that's taking you. You're then sent off to a construction site and you work there for the time equivalent to the money invested in your model line and the facilities to keep you functioning, which could be at least a couple of years.
"So in short, reploids basically activate into indentured servitude," Double finishes nonchalantly as if he didn't just say the verbal equivalent of a vat of liquid nitrogen and poured it onto Iris.
Indentured servitude. It does not sound like a nice term.
She shares this aloud.
"It does sound a bit bad calling it indentured servitude but I don't know a better term to call it," Double admits. "Humans dictate whether a reploid is created or not. We basically owe our existences to them but we're not easy to make and nothing is free."
"Then…does that mean both my brother and I are bound to a…"
An unknown debt involving powers beyond them? It's one thing if her builders only cared of her and Colonel to carry out their roles. It's another if they have only seen them as financial returns.
It's so...cold.
She's compelled to instantly ask the Repliforce scientists if they see her as their daughter. She never asked that before. She thought of it as asking if the moon revolves around the Earth.
But now she's also afraid of the answer. She doesn't know how heartbroken she'll be if her builders reply with anything that's not a "yes."
Colonel was right. It's so easy to get hurt.
"Aw, bolts. You're a really young, sensitive bot," Double says apologetically. He lays a hand on her back and pats twice comfortingly. "I shouldn't have sprung all of this onto ya. Not gonna lie, it's a little weird to be honest. I never thought I'd ever have to explain all this until now. You're the first reploid I've ever met that ever saw their builders as family. But still, I probably should have held back."
"No, it's okay. I think it's good for me to know all of this." That way she understands where most reploids are coming from and that her circumstances are way beyond normal asides from being two halves of one being. To think that her origins were unfortunate! She's luckier than most.
"You really know a lot, Double."
"Heh, it's no big deal. What I've said is really general knowledge," Double replies scratching the back of his helm. "Well if it makes you feel better, most reploids are usually okay with where they are. They have a directive, a job to fulfill that directive, and have their basic needs covered. It's common for reploids to continue the same work they've been doing long after they're done with their term."
That makes sense. Iris can see herself to always be in telecommunications. When it comes down to it, as long as she can help people she's happy since that's her primary desire.
Colonel on the other hand…
"It would be nice if my brother doesn't keep fighting after he's done with his service," she hopes. She believes in Colonel and his strength, but a life devoted to fighting doesn't abate her worries one bit.
"Hey, let's talk about something lighter," Double proposes in the following silence. "Y'know, you haven't told me much about your brother. What kind of person is he like? Are Repliforce's duties really that hardcore?"
It takes a couple slow minutes to get the conversation going again, but eventually the Navigator trainee spends so much time talking that she had to take her e-tank with her by the end of her break.
"- and if thermal radiation levels are quickly elevating, what do you do?" asks Alia.
"We command the Hunters to evacuate or take cover as quickly as possible," answers Iris. "The mechaniloid is preparing for self-destruction."
"What are the differences between battons and lyrics?"
"Lyric mechaniloids are common in public urban spaces. They mainly operate during the daytime because they don't have infrared cameras and have shorter battery lifespans. Battons are more commonly used in the wild such as caves because they do have infrared and disturb the environment less."
"Battons are also used in urban areas as well," the older Navigator points out.
Iris pauses, combs through her data banks a little more, then it comes to her.
"They're also used in detainment centers!"
"Yes, but they're also installed in neighborhoods that requires higher security at night. Seems like you're holding down information pretty well," Alia compliments as she turns around a corner, walking briskly towards Command Center with Iris half a step behind her. "Now fair warning. Overall, the Units we navigate tend to encounter less crime than during the day. However, the average number of violent Maverick attacks increase. Keep your anchors on."
"Yes ma'am," Iris responds obediently despite internally cringing.
Noticing Iris' nervousness, the older Navigator offers," Don't get yours wires crossed. We're going to tack you in with the easiest Unit to operate."
"The easiest Unit?"
"We're putting you in with the Zeroth."
"…Captain Zero's Unit is the easiest Unit?"
"Both the Zeroth and the Seventeenth actually," Alia elaborates. "They're led by the most experienced Hunters in Headquarters. Factoring in your soft personality, I'm putting you with the Zeroth." She looks away to snort. "If I put you with the Seventeenth, X would baby you too much. So, Zero."
Wringing her hands together, Iris says, "You're going to watch over me again, right?"
Alia shakes her head. "I'll be with you through set-up, but after that I'll be focused on my own task."
"But this is my first time navigating a Unit…"
"No, it's not. You navigated the Fourteenth Unit yesterday."
"You were walking me through it, ma'am. I didn't do that alone."
"I only made sure that you knew what to do and you did well. Your decision-making skills and judgment are passing."
"I just don't want to make a bad call. If I make a mistake…" She won't be alone in facing the consequences. The Unit under her care will too.
"That's why I'm handing the Zeroth to you. If I delegated you to, let's say, the Twelfth Unit for example, and you made a bad call? That is a potential for negative consequences. However, if Zero thinks you made a bad call, he'll ignore it. If he follows what you say, then you know you're doing fine. I don't need to actively supervise you – you just have to watch what he's doing to know if your judgment is right or wrong. He does have experience of being a pretty solid mentor," Alia finishes wistfully.
"Zero teaches?" Iris didn't expect that.
Alia smiles. "He did teach X after all."
The First Android was a student once upon a time? Even he had to get trained? That makes sense; realistically, everyone was a beginner, but the knowledge still comes across as both surprising and relieving.
Once the Navigators arrived to their destination, Iris' circuitry grows more jittery as she follows Alia to her new section, specifically towards a seat that Iris has seen the other operator had occupied multiple times in the past. There's barely any difference from this console from the other higher ranked Navigator consoles. Still Iris takes the chair meekly. Being in the shadow of Alia's expertise is intimidating.
Not to mention the console that sits in front of her is so much bigger and advanced than the one she used before. Iris feels figuratively and literally small before it.
"It's not going to zap you," Alia reminds behind her. "Input your code."
"Oh - yes ma'am!"
As soon as Iris finishes typing, the screen presents her profile image and her job position, which she notes has changed from 'Trainee' to 'Navigator.' A notification pops up in Iris' internal communications network of a new login, asking if it is her. Iris confirms a couple security protocols and finally the screen flashes blue welcomingly. As if tearing down a struggling dam, Iris gets flooded by a seemingly endless number of windows and tabs lining at the sides. Finally, the map of Abel City, highlighted with color-coded routes and dots, materializes at the center along with various incident report histories based on specific sectors and neighborhoods branching out from it.
"Are you properly authorized to the network?"
"Checking…" Iris nods. "Yes ma'am."
Iris almost jumps with the map chirps a beep. A new dot appears onscreen, incrementally moving away from Maverick Hunters Headquarters.
"Transport VU-23," Iris reads aloud to herself quietly. "Reserved for the Zeroth Unit. They've begun patrol."
"What do you have to do next?" asks Alia.
"Hook into the comm channels with the Unit and confirm transmissions are clear."
When the blonde reploid doesn't say anything further, simply looking at her meaningfully, Iris galvanizes into action again. The younger Navigator hurries to put the headset on, tests the connection, and says," Breaker one-nine. This is Base to Zeroth, do you copy?"
"Zero to Base, affirmative," comes in the Unit Leader's voice.
A beat passes and Iris assumes that nothing more is needed to be said until," You're Iris."
At the warbot's recognition, Iris brightens. "Yes, sir! I'll be your Navigator for this patrol. I'm new, but I'll do my best."
"…Roger. Zeroth over."
"Alright, seems like everything is working in order." Iris feels the older Navigator move away. "I know you got this, Iris. Remember, you did this before and you can do it again. The difference is that this time you don't have me watching over your shoulder."
"Oh, okay," Iris says dumbly in Alia's leaving footsteps, then turns back to her console when she spots a new development occur from the corner of her eye. It's a message sent by a PSAP: a public disturbance by reploids at Sector West-3 on Achaia Avenue and Eighteenth.
It's closer to the Zeroth than any other Unit's patrol. Iris takes it and relays the report to Zero dutifully.
"Zeroth Unit responding."
Zeroth Unit's ETA will be five minutes. That's more than enough time for Iris to scout ahead.
She needs to look through the camera lens of the local camera mechs. Sector West – 3 is part of the business district so that means - propeller eyes? Yes, that's it. She needs to get access to them.
Okay, to gain access to the eye mechs' IP cameras, Iris needs to receive permission from the sector's security management system and send notifications to the locals there ahead of time. Which means she has to…she has to...
Iris' fingers freeze over her console. How did the order go again...?
Knowledge is critical. Once upon a time the Maverick Hunters had their own scouting mechaniloids that would accompany Hunter patrols, but the Council disallowed the Hunters from having any personal mechs after the First Maverick War.
Now if a Navigator wants to provide layout support, they have to connect and watch through the lens of specific mechaniloids that's part of the public CCTV network. A strategy to curb abusing the mechs.
However, circumstances have to justify the act. Iris needs to make sure the digital paper trail she creates is clear and in order if she doesn't want to violate any privacy codes.
Iris half-turns. "Alia – ," she starts, but freezes when she sees the other Navigator appear completely immersed in her own respective work.
Suddenly Iris is stuck. She can't just impose on her superior for something as small as this! Alia is busy helping another Unit and Iris is here to help people too, not slow them down! And - oh no, according to the map, the Zeroth Unit is about to arrive at the scene, and Iris has provided neither the environmental layout nor the situation severity -
"Zeroth to Base: Disturbance resolved. Returning back to route," cuts in Zero's voice in her aural cone.
Iris' face into confusion. "What? But the maps shows that the Unit is two streets away from the scene…?"
"I left the van and arrived ahead of my Unit," the warbot explains. "There were no Mavericks. It was a couple overclocked reploids and a misunderstanding."
The brunette's face falls. "I'm sorry. If I was faster, I could have scouted ahead and told you. In fact, if I did that first I wouldn't have passed that report to you. You wasted your time because of me."
"Even if you did, it wouldn't change what I would have done."
Iris blinks. "What do you mean?"
"I would still have arrived to the scene."
"But why? There weren't any Mavericks. It was a false alarm."
"Reploids become more impulsive and belligerent when overclocked. They may not be committing a crime, but they're more likely to commit one. By appearing in person, they're less likely to do anything stupid. They're reminded that the Hunters are in the precinct."
"Oh, you're preventing potential Maverickism. That makes sense."
"Correct. You didn't waste my time. Zeroth over."
Well. That's that.
The blaring sense of urgency leaves Iris in a rush, and she takes a quiet moment to review her memories. Without the anxiety clouding her processor, she recalls the access order and feels a bit more prepared for the next alert.
She's determined to be better at this.
The next couple incidents are misdemeanors: a reploid late for a night-shift cutting corners by trespassing through Boomer Stadium past closing hours, two belligerent reploids in a heated argument that escalated into a brawl in front of an oil bar (the argument topic was "Water is not wet!" vs "WATER IS WET, YOU RUSTING IDIOT!" Iris feels a little bad for giggling), and a taxi burglary, which turned out to not be a burglary.
The civiloid driver locked himself outside of his vehicle and forgot that he can open it remotely. He's new to the job apparently. Iris can relate.
The crimes are so minor that Iris gradually eases up. It also helps that Zero's cool professionalism is rubbing off on her, her rattling anxiety dwindling down until it becomes an almost nonexistent thrum.
"And more and more reploids are undergoing illegal custom jobs?" asks Iris, continuing the previous thread of conversation as she disengages from another security mech. The Zeroth squad has already sped away so utilizing the same mech is no longer needed.
"Yes. It's cases such as those when the Hunters do cooperate with the policemen," says Zero. "Reploids who want extensive custom jobs typically go to human mechanics to provide the service. Since the criminals involve both reploids and humans, the case is shared by Hunters and the cops."
"Human mechanics? Is there a reason for that?"
"Humans generally receive less scrutiny than reploids do when purchasing components for a custom. If a reploid orders materials that can be combined together into creating faux skin, data-combers are going to look into that. If a human does, combers can end up finding a make-up artist." The Zeroth Unit Leader makes a soft noise - so quiet it borders nonchalant - to be effectively read as disdain or amusement, but Iris doesn't have many comparisons to pull from. "It's not uncommon for prosthetic clinics to act as fronts for illegal custom workshops these days."
Iris was so invested in the conversation, she jumps when she receives an alert. Face red, she manages not to stammer relaying the message. "Sir, an alarm got set off inside the Eisenberg factory at Sector South – 27, Halzmath and Caraina."
"Acre Park then. Responding."
As soon as Zero enters radio silence, Iris briefly researches the neighborhood, and silently recoils.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, thinks Iris determinedly before hooking into a batton from another sector (there's nothing to latch on in the actual neighborhood), the feed dominating her screen again. The eyes through a batton is drastically different from those of the propeller eye mechs: unlike the black and white surveillance imagery that the eye mechs give, the battons' cameras are funneling her green footage, the overall quality so much clearer and the control smoother.
The Zeroth Unit transport will arrive on-site in ten minutes. Iris pushes the little batton to fly swiftly ahead, scanning as she goes.
What's notable is that there isn't much to note; the streets that her possessed mech passes over are empty, lying next to vacant lots and seemingly vacant houses, sitting low and lonely between yards of dead grass. The only signs of life she can find are the rolling E-Tanks and speckles of trash littered along the curb, and Abel City's hot-blooded highway separated by monumental pillars and forlorn chain-link fences, like a border.
How can such a seemingly empty place have a history of heavily reported crime?
"There's barely anyone out on the way here, sir. You should have a smooth ride to the location," Iris says, partly just to say something. "Approaching Eisenberg. Beginning a perimeter check."
"Which recon mech are you using?"
"A batton, sir."
"Turn off the homing option, set its radar to five kilos and switch on echolocation. If this is what I think it is, the batton is going to find our problem for us."
Iris proceeds to do just that and watches her feed jerk towards the left.
"Going further down south from Caraina. Wait, it just turned west at Grotwood. I'm following along the compound wall – oh, there's a reploid here!"
"Return to manual or else the batton is going to tackle our Maverick and alert Hunter presence."
Before the security mech can get too close, Iris seizes control of the batton again, but she's too late. The suspected reploid on her screen has already sensed Iris' presence and the young Navigator can't stop the panicked squeak that leaves her lips when she sees the reploid raises its arm towards her, its knuckles cocking back to reveal a muzzle.
Iris cries out in alarm when her camera jostles in white flashes. Her head is overwhelmed with deafening noise and she reflexively tugs her headset to sit shakily around her neck.
In her screen, the world is cracked at the upper left corner, has flipped upside down and becomes a spiraling blur.
Panicking, Iris' hands fly across the keyboard and re-seizes control.
"- Iris?" peeps a dampened sound below her aural cones.
Spluttering, the young Navigator puts her headset back on again. "I'm here, sir! Sorry, they saw me and opened fire."
"So they're armed. This mission has elevated from Irregular to Maverick. Commencing to apprehend hostile. Did you identify the weapon?"
"It was embedded into the reploid's arm. I don't know what model."
"So our hostile is either a combat model or had a custom."
Iris flies her battered recon mech higher up clumsily just in time to see the reploid losing interest in shooting her down. They scale over the factory wall swiftly, disappearing to the other side. She registers distance sounds of shouting, which prompts more shouting voices until the factory becomes one giant, muffled cacophony.
"The Maverick has entered the factory and I hear a lot of voices. I think there are multiple hostiles, sir."
"Understood. ETA two minutes."
"Okay, I'll follow the hostile's trail!"
It's so silly that her core is jumpstarting all over again when she's not even there in-person, risking her life like the Zeroth Unit is going to do. She shakes her head, exvents, and flies her recon mech over the wall, trying to stay within the shadows as much as she can. Alia told her that if she's too eager, she'll get shot down and how useful would she be then?
She's here to help.
"There's an entrance to the factory from the back and – oh, they ripped the door off - um, you can enter the building through here. It seems to lead to a loading dock…"
The space is too wide and there's too many crates and pulley equipment everywhere. Iris lets the batton go on auto and it zooms past the container towers rising to the overseeing platforms higher up. It flies into another door, and Iris temporarily freezes at the sight. If it weren't for the echoing yells and increasing clamors in the background, Iris wouldn't have moved.
"N-no one at the dock, sir," she forces herself to say. "Hostiles seem to be at the second floor."
"Not a single worker? Bad sign."
"There's also signs of a fight and h-hydraulic fluids leading to the left hallway." Keeping close to the ceiling, she flies through it cautiously, flinching at every eerie blinking light on her route. She passes through another door and hesitates right by the entrance, daring not to move past it.
"…They're here, sir."
Like a supervisor, Iris is on a guarded platform ringing around the upper section, overlooking down of what appears to be the assembly room. On one side are administration cubicles. On the other side are rows of mechanical arms rooted on the floor, their claws hanging over conveyor belts, their duty interrupted and trapped in time.
On the center are five garish reploids surrounding what appears to be fifty identical green and white reploids, all huddled like cattle.
"Assuming they're armed, I see five hostiles. They've rounded up the factory workers here. Oh no."
Contrasting with Iris' rocketing worry, Zero sounds completely calm. "Hostages. Do you have a good look on the hostiles?"
"H-hold on, I'll try looking them up and see what I can tell you about them – "
"I don't need that," Zero replies swiftly. "Where are they pointing their weapons? Are they aiming them at the workers or towards the doors?"
"They're not pointing at the workers. They're aiming at the doors, but they keep on moving. They're kinda aiming it everywhere?"
"They're paranoid. Iris, fly the batton as far away from where you're positioned. Don't get caught."
Iris obeys.
"Now go into the mech's settings and turn on the microphone and dial the volume to maximum. When I count to three, yell."
She gawks. "'Yell?'" Iris swivels her head around, watching the other Navigators immersed in their work, deaf to the rest of the world.
"One."
Is Zero serious? She's not the only one in the Command Center! What if Iris breaks another Navi
"Two."
-gator's concentration during a super important mission? Oh no, Zero really expects her to
"Three."
"H-Hello!" Iris yelps automatically. Her voice carries far and leaves an awkward silence. The hostiles' attentions snap to her along with their weapons. Instead of shooting at sight, their eyes are narrowed, confused.
"Good enough." If a voice can be a shrug, that would be Zero's.
Down on the ground floor, Iris sees doors burst and windows shatter into showers of glass from all sides of the room and everything descends into chaos.