DH gave a sigh as they slumped back into their chair. “I’m finally done with the drives.” They said, stretching their neck after what seemed like hours of sitting in the same position. 

 

TO suppressed a sigh of relief; it had taken a lot longer than either of them had expected to extract the data on the drives, and it had been far more frustrating than expected as well. The drives had to be accessed through an operating system that was specific to the brand of the bot it came from, then specific to the model. TO hadn’t known this, of course, and hadn’t bothered to check for serial numbers or hints about the bot. Normally, their system would have identified what they needed, but the bot had no identifiers for their system to pick up on. 

 

There were hundreds of manufactures on Arkane alone and they had to pick through old and new operating systems until they found the right one. While TO compiled the data for the Praetors and Vassal - a waste of time- DH had gone through the tedious work of testing the disks with every possible operating system they found. TO had considered cancelling their plans with Lendulin and Petra, since they knew that being pulled away from a project that they were so frustrated with and so involved with would irritate DH to no end. 

 

Thankfully, there was no need for that. Not only had DH found the right operating system, but it looked like they had extracted all the data. TO wasn’t surprised since they knew that with computers and programming DH could do nearly anything, they were just glad that it hadn’t taken longer. 

 

“Anything useful?” TO asked

DH’s ears twitched and pinned back as they chewed on their lower lip. “Define useful.” They said, “The bad news is that mostly, this information isn’t anything we don't already know.

“The good news?”

“They confirm what we thought might be true. They had programming to understand Synthspeak. They had images of synths-”

“Anyone we know?” TO asked, their ears pinning back. They wondered if it was GiDi. 

 

“It was a composite image, so I couldn’t tell.” DH said, “But they knew us specifically. There were features to look for. The scars on your wings, on my face.” 

 

They weren’t just looking for synths; they were looking for them specifically. It was just like when they were at the portal and the insurgents had demanded TO and DH after receiving their old numbers. TO tried not to think of GiDi, bound up in a dark, dank chamber with wounds all over their body from whatever torture the insurgents were employing to draw information out of them. 

 

“They might try to use GiDi.” TO said, their teeth gritting together, their hands clenched into fists, claws threatening to pierce their palms, “They might use them to get us to surrender to them, or give them information, or… Or who knows what!.”

“... We can’t let them hurt GiDi.” DH said,

“They won’t. We’ll stop them before they can hurt them anymore.”

“But if we can’t?”

“We will!”

DH stared at the screen, unblinking for several long minutes, before they pulled up another file. “I also found out how they got the bot to overheat itself.” DH said. “And it starts with this; the only other image of a person I could find.” A picture of a small person with a furry, narrow face, enormous eyes, and large, rounded ears appeared on the screen. “The name associated with the image is “Joe Mama.”

TO blinked slowly at DH, their ears twitching with disbelief. “... Really?”

“Really. The person who reprogrammed this thing has technical abilities of a well-trained savant, and the sensibilities of a child.” DH said, “But they set things up so that it would rank them on the same authoritative level as synths. This ‘Joe’ probably told the robot not to say anything that might identify them. You, on the same authority level, demanded information they were forbidden from giving. Under normal circumstances, this would have caused a temporary reset.”

“But someone removed the reset mechanisms.” TO said, “It couldn’t reset, so it overheated.”

“Exactly.” They leaned forward. “The solution here for what they did is simple enough, but that they could get around the security coding without breaking the actual functioning code is impressive. There's all kinds of fail-safes and safety checks to shut the whole thing down and lock it if someone tampered with the security coding and they got past all that after hacking into it. 

 

“Were we able to get an actual identification of the hacker?”

“Not yet; this species, Oryzoma, is prolific here, and there are no features in the image that would make them stand out. I’m running a scan now in the civilian database looking for an Oryzoma with known advanced technological skills, specifically in AI, robotics, and programming. If I get a lot of them, I’ll see about refining that to any individuals with a criminal record.” 

 

“And we just hope that brings up something.” TO said.

“And if it doesn’t, I see if I can make more headway with these.” DH tapped on the drives. “There’s some information here that…” They paused, glancing at TO, “It’s… a little more advanced than you’d be interested in. Suffice to say, I can probably use the information here to track them down over Arkane’s network.”

 

TO leaned forward and rubbed at their eyes with their palms. They had helped DH where they could, looking up different bot operation systems for them to try, had spent so long getting data for the praetors, and then when all they could do was wait, they looked into their databases looking for further connections with Pearla and the insurgency; someone perhaps who associated with her just before she got flagged for suspicious behaviour. 

 

So far, nothing. They hoped the drives would have more information, but as DH said, it only gave them information that they already knew. If that “Joe” was already on their list, then maybe they’d have something, but TO had seen no one like that on the list!

There was nothing. Nothing connected in the way TO hoped. It appeared she had simply fallen in with the insurgency almost randomly, but that simply didn’t happen. There had to be some missing piece here that TO wasn’t seeing; something that so far escaped notice. 

 

The sudden warmth of DH’s arms and wings as they wrapped around TO’s shoulders startled them from their thoughts. They hadn’t noticed DH get up from their seat and even now when they pulled their hands away from their eyes, all they saw was DHs chest, the soft blue fabric of one of their new dresses which rubbed gently against TO’s cheek. They smelled nice. Were they wearing perfume? TO was pretty sure that DH received a sample at some point. 

Confusion rose and dissipated as TO decided that this was nice; far too nice to waste questions on. They nuzzled into DH’s chest, wrapping their arms around their waist. Only a moment later, they felt DH’s hand reach for the back of their neck. Gentle fingertips scratched just at the base of the skull, featherlight and gentle. The muscles that TO had kept tense for the last few days suddenly seemed to relax all at once and before they knew it, they were chirping softly in DH’s arms, leaning against them as though they might fall asleep. 

 

“... We could put off meeting with Lendulin and Petra.” DH offered, “Just for today. We could just rest today.”

“Can’t.” TO murmured into DH’s chest. They wanted to, they wanted to take the day, the week, the year, and just stay with DH. 

 

We could run. 

 

In fleeting seconds, they imagined taking DH and running, disappearing into the city and just existing with DH at their side. The thoughts shot through their head like lightning; sudden and shocking. As the surprise of their own thoughts faded, it was replaced by guilt. 

 

They were here to do an important job for King Decon, to serve Him in managing the galaxy. That was their goal, their purpose; the very reason He had created them in the first place!

Would they put DH over all of that?

The answer came quick and easy, silent in their head and invoking panic and fear. Maybe this was why such feelings between synths were so frowned upon; it made them shortsighted and selfish, just like civilians. 

They spent another moment in DH’s embrace before they pulled away. “We need to get ready.” They said, their ears low, “We have work to do.” 

 

======

 

The office district was where most of the citizens of Arkane worked if they didn't own a business, or work for the government itself. What TO knew of work done in offices was minimal, but from the data they had received they knew that most of what was here was “Service Offices.” where hundreds of people sat at desks in a cramped office, connected to a communicator as they worked though whatever contract they were assigned. It could be anything; technical support, customer support, sales, marketing, research, intimate roleplay, and data collection were all things that such an office worker might end up doing. The image TO always had of such places in their mind, taken from shows of course, were that of clean offices, and smiling people in crisp suits taking calls.

Maybe it was like that inside the offices, but outside it was different; people on breaks stood in a cage-like outside break area, smoking, drinking, or taking pills before going back in 

 

“I swear, the last missus I had told me outright to just go kill myself!”

“I had one last week that told me they’d come find me and do it for me.” There was a dry laugh that followed this, “At least then I wouldn’t have to come in to work.” 

 

“Could be worse. Could be in shipping.”

“Damn right. Be grateful I guess.” 

 

Was a job in shipping worse than a job in service? For synths, there were no lesser jobs; all work served King Decon. There were of course jobs that TO themself wouldn’t want to do, ones that were boring to them, or more dangerous, or which would take them away from DH. Still, they didn’t look down on these jobs with the level of disdain that the civilians held in their voice for shipping jobs’; it was thick enough that even TO could pick it up in their tone. 

 

“I hate it here.” DH muttered, being careful not to step into any of the many puddles on the street. They had new shoes now; flat and sturdy, but covered in a blue velvet that matched their dress. “Didn’t you find a nicer place in the entertainment district?”

“Petra said she couldn’t make it there.” TO said. “She had business here, and could meet us later. This is easier for Lendulin too.” They shrugged, feeling their ears twitch back, “Apparently, people aren’t as hostile to her around here as they are in the inner rings.” 

 

“I still hate it here.” DH grumbled.

Something moved out of the corner of their eyes, and when TO looked they saw a large insect, about the size of an average cat with a small head and a large, fat tail tipped with a two-pronged pincer. It perched on the edge of a garbage can on a corner, nosing it’s way through the refuse. A twitch of its tail and a shudder and a twitch of its antenna was all the foreboding they got before it plunged its tail over its head and into the garbage, coming back up with a piece of rotting meat caught in its pincer. 

TO shuddered and drew closer to DH. They hated this place too. They wished they could do this with their armor on so that they didn’t have to smell and hear everything. With their armor on they’d be less worried when they felt the phantom touch of insect legs crawling on their back. 

 

DH took TO’s arm in theirs, lacing their fingers together. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be better when we get to the place.” TO said. “Let’s hurry.”

The place that Petra had picked out was called Journeyman's, and it was a bar instead of a cafe as TO had originally planned. Any assumptions of a nice, clean bar with padded seats and fancy drinks in elegant glasses fled from TO’s mind as soon as they entered; the smell of people, of smoke and spilled alcohol was strong here, mixed with a hint of grease from a kitchen hidden in the back. It was late in the day so many of the tables were already filled with a chaotic array of various species wearing mostly baggy and tattered clothes in denim and cotton, sitting at their tables and drinking from large glass mugs. 

 

Tucked away in one corner around several large speakers was a civilian, an older human male with salt and pepper hair and an unkempt beard, who was ‘providing entertainment.” He sat on a stool before a microphone, playing an out-of-tune guitar and singing; the two sounds seemed to compete with one another, and the speakers distorted the noise to create weird pitches and dull low notes that hurt TO’s ears. In order to be heard the civilians had to shout at one another even though most of them were sitting close together. Bits and pieces of conversation far more melodic than the lyrics to the murdered song rose up over the fray. 

 

“I swear, three hours just to fix her machine, and-”

“He didn’t need the deluxe package, but I fuckin’ sold it. Made my quota.” 

 

“-when I called back with a male voice modulator, he was fine! What an asshole.” 

 

There were too many fragments of conversation caught over the cacophony of the noise coming from the entertainer's speakers. That, combined with the smells and strange lighting was already giving TO a headache.

They should have stayed home and had a nice, peaceful nice with DH.

“Are you sure this is the place?” DH shouted over the noise.

“Positive!” TO shouted back, wincing. They had checked the address and ran it through their communicator to ensure they had the right location. Still, they couldn’t see Petra anywhere.

Maybe she hadn’t shown up. Maybe she had changed her mind. Maybe she never intended to meet up with them at all. TO knew that should bother them but in the moment they couldn’t help but hope that was the case; if Petra wasn’t coming, then they’d be able to go home then and get out of this awful place.

They felt a hand on their arm, and when they looked it was Petra.

“Sorry! I forgot it was live ‘music’ day.” She shouted. She gave the entertainer a glare as though she might make him disappear by will alone. When that failed, she settled on sighing and gesturing to the back corner, “Come on, we can talk back there.”

Disappointed, and with their head throbbing, TO followed her to the back, DH’s arm linked in their own as they navigated their way past crowded tables and to the back corner.