Woohoo! 30 chapters!

I feel Nick's words in the air, heavy and oppressive with the weight behind them. Despite what I may do, despite all my best intentions, bad things could still happen. Nick knows this and he won't let this knowledge effect how he lives his life. But he hates knowing that it's as much a truth for him as it is for his partner.

Eventually the words seem to fade away and we become acutely aware of the silence. It's not awkward. There can never be an awkward silence between us. We know each other too well for that. Still, silence is silence, and right now I don't have time for that. So, I decide to break it.

"You said in your notes that you think Yttri will need a bodyguard," I say.

Nick nods. "If everything goes well, she shouldn't be in danger at any point, but she should have someone with her who can fight, just in case."

"You suggested Simmons," I remind him. "While I understand he isn't the worst fighter amongst the Sim-Troopers, he isn't the best either," I point out. "I was considering Tucker for the job. Why do you think Simmons is better?"

Nick's lip twitches as he tries to suppress a smile. "That decision is more about who's more willing to protect Yttri than it is about ability," he states. "I think Simmons is the better choice in that regard."

I narrow my eyes at his cryptic answer. "There's something you're not telling me."

Nick just shakes his head, refusing to give up his secret. "Talk to him yourself. You'll see." He pauses for a moment, glancing at the ceiling in thought, before continuing. "Or maybe you won't. You seem to be pretty blind about that sort of thing." He looks back at me and sees the annoyed expression on my face. "Trust me, Si. He's the right choice."

I want to go find Simmons right away, but he and the rest of the Sim-Troopers are already sleeping. I guess that'll just have to wait until morning. I could go check what supplies we'll need. I want to run a full inventory on weapons and ammo, specifically checking if any of the stun guns need repairs. I also want to check if Yttri has any new gadgets that could help in the fight. There are a thousand things I need to do and I want to do them all right now. Time is never on our side. It pays to act quickly.

Instead, I remember my promise to Rho and turn down a hall toward my room. Normally I would ignore her requests for me to take better care of myself, but tonight I don't. What can I say? Guilt is a great motivator. I still feel bad that my earlier recklessness put her in danger. This is the only way I can think of to make up for it.

I still remember when Rho first came to us. It had been just after Manny and Carbon and Zinc left. Half my team was gone, and I still hadn't been reassigned yet, although Neon had. For the first time in my life, I was all alone. I'd felt lost. I needed something to do, to give me purpose. I found it in the form of an AI.

Rho, when she arrived, was broken. Worse than broken, actually; she was in pieces. Three shattered psyches flailing around within one containment unit, unable to find any sort of balance. Mom had spent weeks trying to fix her, but she couldn't. It wasn't like putting a puzzle together. These pieces weren't meant to fit. They had been separated from the Alpha to preserve both himself and them. He'd never meant for them to be reunited.

Still, despite this, mom managed to get them nearly stable. Rather than being a useless babble of floating information, she made them into the most useless and glitchy computer in the universe. She eventually discovered what the problem was. Rho's lack of mental harmony meant she didn't have a stable thought process. It was one part of her that had been destroyed in the Director's early attempts at harvesting AI fragments. He eventually fixed the problem by using some ancient alien tech, but by then it was too late for Rho. Mom didn't give up, though. If Rho didn't have a stable thought process, she'd decided, then we'd build her one.

Mom didn't have the unnatural level of genius that the Director did when it came to AIs, but she still understood how they worked. She knew that AIs were copied from human minds, which is what allows them to think like people. Mom decided that since Rho had lost this aspect of her programming, the best course of action would be to copy it for her again. That's where I came in.

I don't remember much of the process itself. A lot of Rho's confusion at the time was transferred over to me while we were connected. I do remember her, though, when she got to the point where she could almost think straight. I remember the joy and curiosity and compassion from one part, and the instinct and compulsiveness from another, and the silence that refused to show itself. Eventually, all this resolved into one mind. Rho had spent three days in my head; listening to me think, learning how it was done, and copying the process for herself. It had felt like weeks.

Mom had always assumed that this was why Rho implanted with me better than anyone else. She and I think the same way. She's like a part of me, my best friend, and, without doubt, she's part of the family.

I pull myself out of these memories as I reach my room. The bed's still unmade and I think briefly that if mom was still around she'd have yelled at me for leaving it like this. I walk to the closet and consider changing, but decide against it. I'm wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. I don't really own anything more comfortable than this, and reaching above my head to pull off the shirt will undoubtedly hurt my injured ribs. Instead I walk to the bed.

A bottle of pills sits on the small table by the bed, next to a glass of water. I glare down at the bottle. I reach past it to the alarm clock and take my time resetting it. I know Rho will just have it turned off by morning anyway, but I like pretending I have some control over this. Once the alarm's set I spin around, seeing if there's anything else I need to do in here. For a second time I consider changing, but a twinge of pain in my side tells me it's still a bad idea, even if it would help me stall longer.

I delay a few more seconds before picking up the bottle and dumping two small pink pills into my hand. I swallow them down with the help of the water and sigh. Good girl, I think dismally. Rhodi would be proud. I shake my head. It's not his fault, of course. I shouldn't blame him. It's just that this is the part I hate the most. It's the one moment in my day when I can't pretend like everything is okay.

I sigh again and climb into bed. Once the blankets are situated comfortably around me, I press a button to turn off the light. Due to the day's activities, I'm asleep almost before the darkness reaches my eyes.

I wake up with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face, wishing I had the ability to not dream for just one night. Between the nightmares and the memories of what life was like before, it's almost too much. The last thing I need right now, on top of everything else, is a dream about Gold and Manny telling me what they think of my new friends.

I shake off these thoughts and sit up slowly. My ribs are still sore, but I can breathe without pain, which is a vast improvement over yesterday. I glance at the clock. As expected, Rho tampered with it while I was sleeping. I really need to teach her about boundaries some day.

I stand and walk to the small mirror on my wall. The woman looking back at me seems strange yet familiar. I recognize each individual feature, from the green eyes to the white hair; chin, nose, and brow all familiar. However, all together they look like a stranger, subtle differences piling up until I barely recognize myself. Most shocking, at least to my own eyes, are the pale skin and hollow cheeks. It reminds me of a corpse. If Manny was still alive, if he had been with those troopers like I'd hoped he would be, I doubt he would even recognize me.

I push these thoughts away and focus on my injuries. Most of the bruises on my face and arms have already faded, and from the feel of things I assume the same can be said for my legs and torso. There had been a small cut on my forehead, which I couldn't quite remember receiving but assumed had been cause by my head getting smashed into the floor. Still, it's gone now, a thin pink scar heralding its former presence. I still feel stiff and sore, but if it came down to it I think I could hold up in a fight now. I couldn't last night. Score one for advanced regenerative abilities.

As I finish getting ready I go over a mental checklist for the day. Step one, talk to Simmons. Step two, inventory weapons. Step three, convince Yttri to allocate resources to repairing anything necessary for the mission. That last one might be difficult. She can get very caught up in her projects, and sometimes she can't see why something boring to fix might also be the most important. Still, it shouldn't be too much trouble. Just as I've learned to trust her judgment about what supplier are absolutely necessary, she trusts me when I tell her which repairs take priority.

I open the door and immediately step back, startled. Standing in front of my door is Boron, a look of determination on his face.

"Silver," he says in place of any sort of greeting.

"Boron," I respond. For some reason, it wouldn't feel right to smile and say good morning like I would with anyone else. I would have, a long time ago, but he's been… different lately. We've been at odds so much these past few months. I feel like I need to be on guard around him. "What do you want?" I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"I heard you're going after Gold," he says. "I want in."

"No," I say immediately.

Boron's jaw clenches visibly. "He was my partner first," he snarls. "You can't cut me out of this."

"You know that's not the reason why." I had hoped we were done talking about this, but it seems I was wrong. I speak as calmly as I can. I can't let myself get angry. I can't let him do that to me. "You're grounded. Remember?"

"Oh, come on, Si," Boron exclaims, sounding like a petulant child. "It was one guard."

"Who you killed," I point out.

"I was protecting you," he says, pointing an accusatory finger at my face. "He was going to attack. He would have-"

"He wouldn't have done anything," I interrupt, pushing his hand away. "That guard was carrying a stun baton and we were in full armor. He couldn't have possibly hurt us."

"He could have," Boron insists. He's been insisting this ever since his last mission. It's why he's grounded. If he had admitted he'd made a mistake, I might have given him a second chance. But I can't risk him going on missions if he doesn't understand what he did wrong last time. As it stands, that's one murder we can't blame on mom's manipulation, and I don't know how we're going to explain it when all this is over.

"You overreacted," I tell him, "and someone died because of it."

"I was just trying to help, Si," Boron says pleadingly.

"It doesn't matter what you meant to happen," I say. My voice comes out harsher than I had planned, and I try to soften it. "What matters is what did happen. I can't let you go on this rescue mission if I can't trust you to control yourself."

"I won't hurt Gold," Boron says. "He's my brother, my partner. I won't hurt him. Please, Si. You've got to let me go with you."

I shake my head. "The order stands. You're still grounded."

He folds his arms. "So you're still trying to give orders," he says, eyes narrowing. "You've said yourself often enough that we're not soldiers. I don't have to listen to you."

I glare back at him. "We're not soldiers," I agree. "But I'm still in charge. As long as you are here, you will follow my rules."

"What rules are those?" he sneers. "Sit around and do nothing while you fail to find mom and get people killed?"

It feels like my blood turns cold at the accusation. I clench my jaw shut to stop a shouted reply. "Rule one is that we don't kill," I grind out through gritted teeth.

Boron and I continue to glare. I know he expects me to say something more. He's bating me; trying to get me to react. I also know that anything else I say will only give more fuel to this argument. There's nothing I can say that will end this conflict, so instead I choose to stay silent.

After a few moments, Boron breaks eye contact. He backs up a step and starts walking away. "That's a stupid rule," he mutters before sprinting down the hall.