Work Text:
Lan Zhan hacked into the mall’s security feed. They had arranged to meet in the food service hall, so he routed to a camera overlooking the dining area and began to search for the face most prominent in his new client’s social feed. Long hair, grey eyes, big smile, and, most importantly, the lack of any Sect logo branded on the breast of his technologist uniform, signifying no allegiance to any of the Big Five.
Good. That meant less questions.
He spotted his client in the crowd, alone and fidgety, fingertips nervously galloping against the burnished tabletop. As Lan Zhan walked toward him, his cursory scan revealed a single weapon signature strapped to the man’s thigh.
Closed mouth, steady eyes, determined brow. Lan Zhan had practiced before docking into Yiling, watching himself from the security feed of the cargo ship he’d smuggled himself into as he manipulated his face into a natural enough expression of neutrality. He wasn’t used to people seeing his face. The first few cycles without his combat armor, he learned that his appearance was appealing to humans, but his countenance left much to be desired. Reserved, Lan Huan had once tried to pin it down as. What he really meant was cold. He was better at it now—presenting himself as normal—but it was still hard.
“Hello,” he said when he reached the table.
His client looked away from the patch of air he’d been staring into and up at Lan Zhan. Blinked. Kept on looking.
“Uh, hey,” he said, straightening his hunched shoulders as he slid his hands to his lap.
“We arranged to meet,” Lan Zhan said, just like he’d rehearsed. “I am Wangji. I answered your job listing.”
His employer cleared his throat, and thankfully didn’t mention the lack of surname, nor the character in The Unmapped with the same name Lan Zhan had introduced himself with. “I’m Wei Ying. You’re—wow. Okay.”
Not part of the script. Lan Zhan stayed silent, hoping it wasn’t externally obvious how quickly he was searching through the arsenal of dramas stored in his memory bank for an adequate response.
But Wei Ying continued before he could say his chosen reply (Episode 185 of Flight Commander and I, said by Flight Commander Fei to her new recruit and eventual love interest in the subsequent story arc: My eyes are up here). “Sorry. I’m surprised that you actually came on such short notice. And that you’re like—that.”
Like what? But humans and their reasonings were nonsensical most of the time and stupid the rest, so there was no use asking. He instead said, “You hired me as a security consultant.”
“Yeah, I did.” Wei Ying cleared his throat and tapped the empty chair beside him. After a quick data search, Lan Zhan got the hint and sat down. “So. Have you ever heard of Wen Chao?”
No. Lan Zhan avoided news feeds like malware, and cared little about politics that didn’t directly concern him. But the Wen surname was enough for Lan Zhan to copy how characters in dramas react when told something unpleasant, and he grimaced.
“Exactly. Trust me, I don’t like the guy, either. But he has my brother, and I have to get him back.”
Wei Ying went on to explain how he and his brother Jiang Cheng (just his luck—Lan Zhan once again grimaced at the surname of yet another Big Five Sect) caught the ire of Wen Chao (“I dunno why. Maybe he’s jealous at how sexy we are”), second son of Wen Inc and known brat. In accordance with said brattiness, said brat went off and kidnapped the heir of Jiang Co during their hour layover in Yiling.
“And his mom will kill me if she finds out I lost him,” Wei Ying told him. “So she can’t find out. No one can. That means no access to the family credit account. And, well. Hiring human security guards is what you do when you can’t afford real security, right?”
Wei Ying made a face at him. A beat. Oh. Lan Zhan was supposed to respond. “Yes,” he answered, “that is what you’re supposed to do.”
So Wei Ying was broke. Great. After going through the effort of sneaking into a cargo ship and hacking into Yiling’s zone security, Lan Zhan’s efforts would most likely not be compensated. Existing in the galaxy without being under the corporate umbrella was expensive enough. He didn’t need this. He should leave.
Curiosity alone kept him in his seat. Humans were allowed to ask questions, so Lan Zhan asked, “Why do you want to hire me?”
“I got a message from Wen Chao about meeting up in Nightless City. As long as I come, in person and alone, he’ll give me Jiang Cheng.” He waved a hand at Lan Zhan’s unconvinced look. “You wouldn’t count. Wen Chao always surrounds himself with an entourage of bodyguards. You’re insurance.”
Wei Ying was hiring Lan Zhan as “insurance.” So he was at least semi-self-aware.
The situation warranted Lan Zhan’s dubiousness. He had taken the job listing expecting regular security detail, standing ominously to the side while the humans argue. But this? A hostage situation involving the families of two of the Big Five? This wasn’t what he’d signed up for.
But he was already here. And he really needed the credits.
“You must know,” Lan Zhan said, because one of the good things about parading as a human was that he was expected to speak his mind, “that there is a specific reason why Wen Chao wants to do this exchange in person.”
Wei Ying nodded, pained. “I know the reason.”
“The reason is to kill you.”
“Yeah.”
“When you arrive there, he will kill your brother, and then he will kill you.”
Often, even when humans have it spelled out to them that what they’re planning on doing is stupid, they still ended up doing something stupid. This unfortunate paradox came to mind when Wei Ying challenged Lan Zhan’s statements of fact with a glare of defiance. “Look, I know it’s not a good idea to go. But what am I supposed to do? Leave Jiang Cheng behind? No way.”
Wei Ying stood, and Lan Zhan reflexfully mirrored the motion. “I’m going to that meeting, whether or not you’re coming. But I’d feel a lot better about it if I didn’t have to go alone.”
His voice wavered at the admission, but remained nonetheless determined. Resolute. Wei Ying was shorter than Lan Zhan, but it didn’t seem that way, not with that look on his face. Like he was the main character in an adventure drama about to send his ship into an unmapped star system.
And he was wrong before, Lan Zhan realized, about Wei Ying’s body language. He wasn’t nervous—he was impatient. Impatient to leave the mall and walk to a meeting with a man who was going to murder him. Impatient to do all he could to grasp at the tiniest of chances that he could save his brother.
Lan Zhan usually wasn’t wrong. He hated being wrong.
“So?” Wei Ying said. He was closer now, having taken a step closer without Lan Zhan realizing it. “You in?”
Lan Zhan looked at himself through the security feed. What was with his face? The expression wasn’t neutral anymore. Wide eyes, parted mouth, arched brows. It—something about it was—he had seen that look before, but never on himself.
He forced himself to hold Wei Ying’s grey gaze. “I’m in.”
-----
They walked to the embarkation zone together. “Wen Chao bought me a shuttle pass,” Wei Ying told him wryly. “Generous of him, isn’t it?”
Lan Zhan would be shocked if there wasn’t an explosive planted in the hull, wired to detonate the moment they took off. “Yes. Generous.”
The shuttle was bot-driven, and the only crew was one augmented human, who checked Lan Zhan’s employment voucher and Wei Ying’s shuttle pass. She looked at Wei Ying and said, “This pass only holds for one person.”
Wei Ying smiled at her. “He’s my security consultant.”
Lan Zhan, who had just wrestled the shuttle’s security system into complacency, deleted its attempt to warn the crew member of his presence.
She frowned, checked the voucher again, and let them inside. They went into the compartment where the rest of the passengers were being seated. Nobody looked up when Wei Ying and Lan Zhan passed by, and he didn’t detect any weapon signatures besides Wei Ying’s. Still potential threats, but their behavior was lowering the probability of the shuttle being a setup.
“So,” Wei Ying said after they settled into their seats. “How’d you end up in Yiling?”
Lan Zhan froze. Small talk? No. Not this. Please, anything but this.
“Work,” he said stiffly.
“Cool. You’re freelance, then?”
Why would anyone willingly put themselves through this torture. “Yes.” Before Wei Ying could say anything else, Lan Zhan said, “I am going to monitor the shuttle departure,” and turned away to face the wall.
The deck shuddered, signalling the shuttle’s uncoupling from the embarkation zone. Lan Zhan had the security system tell the pilot—a single function bot—he was authorized by ring security, earning a cheerful ping in reply through his private feed. Then he scanned the hull. What a surprise: an explosive device hidden between the flexed metal. A quick hack and short circuit, and it wasn’t a problem anymore. And while he was at it, he might as well check on what the crew member was doing—
Wei Ying’s voice sliced through. “You’re spliced?”
A blink and Lan Zhan was sitting in the passengers compartment again, Wei Ying staring at the back of his neck.
Oh, he thought Lan Zhan’s dataport was an implant. He discreetly glanced down to make sure the rest of his inorganic parts were covered by sleeves and pants and boots. “I am augmented, yes.”
Wei Ying, Lan Zhan was beginning to realize, was not one to sit still and shut up. “Awesome. I am, too. Just for feed accessing, though, nothing special. What about you? Wait, lemme guess. That interface on your neck should give you extra access to feeds. And you work in security, too...enhanced joints?”
Saying that he had to work and subsequently staring blankly at nothing was usually more than enough to deter clients from talking to him. Even that was an uncommon occurrence, as clients usually didn’t want to talk to him, and he certainly didn’t want to talk to them. And that was understandable, for why would somebody want to start a conversation with something most humans didn’t even know had a face?
“Yes,” Lan Zhan said again. He added, “Among other things.”
Impressed, Wei Ying whistled and said, “Damn, that’s so cool.” Sheepishness twisted his smile. “We haven’t talked about payment, haven’t we. Uh, I gotta be honest, Wangji—I don’t know if I can afford you.”
He probably couldn’t, but whatever. “Whatever you can afford will be sufficient.”
“Why?” A wrinkle creased Wei Ying’s nose. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I know I don’t have the right to ask, but...”
Don’t have the right to ask. That wasn’t something that ever applied to Lan Zhan, even when he was with Lan Huan. He hadn’t realized that until now, right this moment, when Wei Ying said it after realizing he may have just stepped out of line.
So Lan Zhan, thrilled at the revelation, decided to lie. “I need to go to Nightless City, and I need an employment contract to get there.”
Lan Zhan didn’t need to go to Nightless City. He didn’t need to be anywhere, not anymore.
A smile curled Wei Ying’s lip again. “Well, I’m glad this is a mutually beneficial situation for both of us.”
With that smile, Lan Zhan caught himself thinking, Wei Ying would fit right in with any and all of the casts that make up the idealized, make-believe galaxies of his favorite dramas. He could be the frontman, even. Top-billed star. He was certainly attractive enough. By human standards, at least.
Content in the silence that settled between them, Lan Zhan turned his attention back to the shuttle’s security system. Only this time, he continued to be aware of Wei Ying sitting next to him as he worked. His body heat was warm—stiflingly so, as most organic things were—but there nonetheless.
-----
The shuttle landed in Nightless City’s embarkation zone. The pilot bot sent a goodbye ping as Lan Zhan herded Wei Ying onto the enclosed walkway out of the zone and into the rest of the city, scanning the area for any threats that may try to stop them. He had already downloaded a map from the public feed and was poking at the security system. More sophisticated than the shuttle’s, but nothing he couldn’t break.
Wen Chao had arranged to meet at a food service place close to where they landed. It was on a raised platform, tables scattered about, with advertisement displays for contractor services floating above. Wei Ying sat at a table that, per Lan Zhan’s advice, was near the exit and underneath one of these displays. They also functioned as cameras; by then, Lan Zhan, who was standing a ways off from the table pretending to look up at the ad displays, had control of them.
Minutes passed. Lan Zhan’s heightened hearing caught the taptaptap of Wei Ying’s fingers when he began galloping them so clearly he might as well have had his ear pressed against the tabletop. After a short while of that, three figures entered the hall. Humans, one of them augmented. The augmented one had beady eyes that scanned the tables before catching on Wei Ying. With a wave of his hand to catch the attention of the others, he began to approach Wei Ying’s table.
Three incoming, at your right, Lan Zhan warned through the secure channel they had opened before arriving at Nightless City.
Wei Ying’s eyes flickered to his right. Ew. That’s Wen Chao.
Is your brother with him?
Even from the overhead view of the display feed, he could see Wei Ying purse his lips. No. He’s not.
Be on your guard. Wen Chao expected you to die on the shuttle, and he will most likely have questions.
Right. A pause. Wait. What? He expected me to die on the shuttle?
Explosive in the hull.
EXPLOSIVE in the HULL?!
A scan showed that all three were armed. Lan Zhan strode through the crowd and positioned himself between Wen Chao and the table. He put a hand up and said, “Stop.”
Wen Chao balked as if Lan Zhan had punched him. “Who the fuck are you?”
Wei Ying was already on his feet, chair shoved back in his haste. “He’s my security consultant.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” Wen Chao sneered.
But his initially cocky demeanor was now dampened, replaced by something more wary. Lan Zhan usually had this effect on people. Before, it was because of his combat armor, the mystique of his opaque helmet, and general human predisposition against his presence. Now, normal human clothes and his normal human face provided similar results. Lan Zhan checked his appearance through the display camera, and decided that he was currently nailing his expression of neutrality. Wen Chao must have taken it as boredom—like Lan Zhan didn’t see him or his bodyguards as threats.
He was right.
“I am Wei Ying’s security consultant,” he said, moving his hand so it was nearly touching Wen Chao’s chest.
Wen Chao stepped back, his still beady and now uncertain gaze bouncing from the two human bodyguards, then Lan Zhan, and finally to Wei Ying.
“Why did you bring a security consultant?” he spat.
Lan Zhan dropped his arm. If the situation called for it, he had clear shots at all three of them. Best to see how everything goes first, though. If he were to partake in combat in this public of a space, his augmented human cover would shatter the moment people began to realize that augmented humans were unlikely to have the ability to fire energy blasts out their arms.
Don’t answer, Lan Zhan told Wei Ying.
Oh, so I shouldn’t let it slip that I know they tried to assassinate me on my way here?
No, you shouldn’t.
Wei Ying took a breath. Lan Zhan held his.
“I’m here for Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying said, voice hard and protagonist-of-a-drama-worthy.
Lan Zhan let the breath out. Good.
While they were talking, Lan Zhan kept an eye through the security cameras. During that tense introduction, two potential threats had entered the food service hall. Four more potential threats were already sitting meters away at adjacent tables. All were augmented humans, all had weapon signatures hidden on their bodies, and all were pointedly disinterested despite the growing number of eyes Wen Chao and Wei Ying’s confrontation was attracting.
He halted on a camera facing the entrance opposite of Wei Ying’s table. An unnatural hush had begun hovering over that part of the seating area, and Lan Zhan couldn’t figure out why until he noticed that the people there were throwing uncomfortable glances at a shadowed corner of the hall. He zoomed in.
Standing there, still as a statue, was a figure wearing full combat armor, the helmet’s opaque visor a dark, unseeing black.
Shit.
Discussion was winding down. Wen Chao, who was still standing, sneered at Wei Ying and stalked off. Wei Ying scowled back, expression somewhere between confused and angry.
Lan Zhan watched Wen Chao as he and his bodyguards left, and walked to Wei Ying’s side.
“You were right,” Wei Ying said sullenly, “I shouldn’t have met with that bastard.”
“What did you discuss?”
Wei Ying shook his head, fists rigid on the tabletop. “He just talked shit and spat more lies. Said he’d only give Jiang Cheng back it if I followed him to his private shuttle and that I have until tomorrow to change my mind. But I think we both know what he’d do if I was stupid enough to do that.”
Too cowardly to start a fight in public. Figures. This meeting wasn’t a part of Wen Chao’s plan. Lan Zhan definitely wasn’t, either.
But the shadow he saw in the security feed sent a chill down Lan Zhan’s synthetic spine. “We need to go,” he told him. “We can’t talk about this here.”
Thankfully, Wen Chao had set off toward the entrance opposite of the escape route Lan Zhan had marked. His plan was to lead Wei Ying through a pedestrian tunnel that curved away from the more populated areas of the city and branched off to multiple tube stations. He took hold of Wei Ying’s bicep and started dragging him out of the food service hall.
Wei Ying looked over his shoulder, where Wen Chao had gone. “Wait, what’s— ? Shit. That’s a fucking murderbot.”
Lan Zhan had a lot of practice in not physically reacting to things, no matter how much they shocked or horrified him. This alone was why his body kept on moving, why his grip on Wei Ying remained strong and his feet continued to lead them through the exit despite the chill that swept through every component of his body, even the ones that didn’t experience sensation—he felt it frost his inorganic power cells hidden under polymer skin, and the organic brain matter in his head.
Lan Zhan peeked behind him through the security cameras. Wen Chao was cutting a wide berth through the hall as he walked away. But it wasn’t him that was repelling the crowd, nor was it him that twisted the looks of fear into each person’s face as they stepped out of his way. It was the figure next to him, newly unveiled from the shadows, that was causing the stir.
Of course Wen Chao, second son of one of the Big Five Sects that specialized in constructs, had a fucking construct. And a murderbot, at that. Lucky him.
“Keep walking,” he told Wei Ying, and he tightened his hold on Wei Ying’s arm.
They reached the tunnel and started heading down. It was wide, decently lit from the stripe of light that traveled down the apex, but the sides were shadowy with offshoot tunnels. It wasn’t empty; whitecollars and techs with logos of the Big Five and other smaller corps emblazoned on their uniforms walked by and past them. Everyone kept their heads down and walked in groups.
By the time Lan Zhan remembered his repulsion toward human touch and let go of Wei Ying, most of the other humans had branched off through the multiple tube access points. The security system of this tunnel was less sophisticated than the food service hall, and through the cameras he watched as a potential threat made his way up the tunnel the way he and Wei Ying came. He was joined by another three humans that came through the offshoot tunnels. They were all walking fast, and would catch up to Lan Zhan and Wei Ying before they reached the tube station that led to the lodging room Lan Zhan had reserved while departing the shuttle.
Lan Zhan felt the rustle of fabric brush against his clothed arm when Wei Ying reached down his thigh and unharnessed his energy baton.
Don’t stop walking. I’ll meet you at the lodging. Lan Zhan sent Wei Ying the lodging information and dropped into the nearest offshoot tunnel.
Wei Ying continued to walk, his pace not once faltering.
When the threats passed by Lan Zhan, he came out of the offshoot and followed at a distance. Only one was armed with an energy weapon, stashed on the threat leading the pack, but they all had pockets perfect for hiding knives and other inert weapons.
Lan Zhan’s breath was slow, and through the cameras he saw that his face was bored again. Familiar territory. Just make sure Wei Ying didn’t get hurt.
The last group of whitecollars turned into a tube access. The leader of the pack’s jaw moved, talking in his feed. As he did so, the tunnel’s security system went offline.
Lan Zhan stepped out of the offshoot and started to run. He arrived just as the leader grabbed Wei Ying’s wrist and subsequently took a energy baton to the side of the head.
“Take that, fucker!” Wei Ying hissed as the leader of the pack crumpled into a heap.
Not the best at oneliners. But nobody’s perfect.
The other three stared in confusion as their leader went down with a bonk. Idiots. Did they not expect a fight? Lan Zhan took advantage of their slow reaction time and joined the fray. He blew out the knees of Idiot One with a kick, grabbed her by the scruff of her jacket, and hurled her into Idiot Two, who had reacted the swiftest out of the bunch and swung at Lan Zhan with a knife. Jokes on him, because he missed and stabbed Idiot One instead.
“Shit, sorry!” Idiot Two said to his newly stabbed coworker. Lan Zhan didn’t allow him much time to ruminate on his mistakes, and stepped over Idiot One’s body to break Idiot Two’s arm with a punch, and snapped his pelvis with another.
While this was happening, Idiot Three had crept up behind Lan Zhan and knocked him in the side with a baton. Annoyed, Lan Zhan blocked the second blow with his open palm, plucked the baton out of Idiot Three’s grip, and hit him with it until he stopped moving.
Threat averted, if the idiots could even be called that. Lan Zhan turned to Wei Ying, who stood off to the side, the idiot leader lying still next to his feet.
He whistled. “Damn. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“You are paying to not be on my bad side.”
“I’ll give you a raise, then. As insurance.”
What was with this guy and insurance? Lan Zhan checked on the idiots. One dead, two getting there, and the last one with a fighting chance if he found a way to staunch the brain swelling in the next minute. Then he checked the cameras. Still cut. The idiots had been intentional with where they planned the ambush, so it had to be out of range of any immediate assistance by the contracted security company assigned to this district. They had to keep moving.
“Go,” Lan Zhan said in a voice he hoped was assuring. Wei Ying wasn’t letting it show, but his pale complexion and hyperventilating ratted him out. He was scared.
“You’ll be okay?”
For some reason, that small admission of concern struck Lan Zhan harder than any knife in the gut could. “I will be okay.”
With one last look at him, Wei Ying continued down the tunnel. After making sure the idiots weren’t going to get up anytime soon, Lan Zhan followed his path. He was in enough control of the security system to delete the storage on the cameras that had him and Wei Ying in their line of sight, as a precautionary measure to leave them out of the lineup of whoever ends up having to clean up this mess.
But he knew it was a hopeless endeavor. His cover might fool humans and augmented humans, but not another construct. The murderbot had reported to Wen Chao the second Lan Zhan and Wei Ying left the food service place. Even in the most optimistic of readings, by now, Wen Chao already had to know.
-----
Lan Zhan made his way out the tunnels. The lodging entrance was across the street, and Wei Ying was waiting for him in the lobby, leaning on a wall by himself in a “I’m trying very hard right now to look inconspicuous” manner. The alone time had done him some good; though still jittery, he wasn’t as shaken up as he was in the tunnel.
“They were going to kill us,” he greeted miserably when Lan Zhan stepped to his side.
“Again,” Lan Zhan specified.
“Yeah. Again.” Wei Ying glanced at him, chewing his lip. “You should have told me about the shuttle.”
“I did tell you.”
“Then you should’ve told me earlier.”
“How earlier?”
“Like, ‘as it’s happening’ earlier.”
Withholding information from a client was usually grounds for termination. For constructs, at least. “The issue was dealt with accordingly. Your input was not required.” Lan Zhan, against his better judgement, hesitated. “However, I apologize for not informing you of the assassination attempt as it was occuring.”
Wei Ying sighed. “Don’t apologize. Just—we’re a team now, Wangji. Try to keep me in the loop next time, okay?”
A team. Like the spunky junk crew in Flight Commander and I? Or the ragtag band of freelancers in Galaxy Sweepers? Lan Zhan had never been in a team before. Only the weapon of one.
“What does ‘keeping one in the loop’ entail?”
“Telling me what’s on your mind is a good place to start.”
Trust me, you don’t want to be in here. “Alright. I am going to take you to the private shuttle docks. And then you are leaving Nightless City.”
“Leaving? Since when?” Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan as if he’d just confessed to something ridiculous, like being a construct disguised as an augmented human. Whoops. “I’m not going anywhere. He still has Jiang Cheng.”
“You will be doing Jiang Cheng no favors by doing exactly what Wen Chao wants you to do.”
“Don’t care. I’m not leaving this city without him.”
Ah, Lan Zhan had almost forgotten about the Humanity Stupidity Paradox. How silly of him. “You are not safe here. Leave, and I will retrieve your brother.”
“And leave you to walk into a trap alone? After all you’ve done?” He stepped out of his slouch and crossed his arms. “Wangji, I’m not just gonna let you clean up my messes. And look, I understand if you decide to peace out now—you already went far and beyond what was on the original job listing. But…” He scratched his temple in frustration before dropping his hand and turning to face Lan Zhan. “I know I’m asking for too much, but I could use the help.”
Ugh, choices. One of the parts of being a human that, depending on the situation, can be either exhilarating or mind-wipingly bothersome. Right now Lan Zhan was leaning toward the latter.
But Wei Ying was asking him to stay. It wasn’t an order, nor was it a contract. Even Lan Huan hadn’t ever thought to ask him what he wanted, what path Lan Zhan wanted to take next. Why would he? Lan Zhan wasn’t supposed to want to decide. He wasn’t programmed to. And Wei Ying, whether or not he knew of his deception, was among the first to give Lan Zhan the option to decide for himself.
So Lan Zhan sighed. It wasn’t anything he’d done before. He did it because the situation called for it. It was oddly liberating, letting air sweep out his lungs for no good reason other than to physically express his defeat.
“I will stay,” he decided. “We will both stay. Let’s check in to our room before I change my mind.”
The smile that grew on Wei Ying’s mouth showed off nearly all his teeth and threatened to split his face in half.
Using a hard currency card, Lan Zhan checked in and paid for their room. The lodging he’d chosen was in the more low-cost part of town, and the room was as narrow as the transport boxes Lan Zhan used to be shipped in for interplanetary contracts. There was a small restroom that he was going to have to periodically pretend to use (he created a schedule and set an alarm to remind himself) and a single sleeping pad. No cameras or security system—he might as well be running around with a hand over his eyes.
“Y’know,” Wei Ying said after they settled in the room, “you kicked ass back in the tunnels. So despite...everything...I’m much more confident about getting out of this alive than I probably should.”
The typical hubris of young people. Were humans unable to comprehend how squishy they were? “Don’t let your guard down,” Lan Zhan cautioned.
“You’re my guard. And with how in the past day you’ve stopped me from getting assassinated twice now, I’d say you haven’t let me down at all.”
“My ability to fight does not change the fact that Wen Chao has a security unit under his command.”
Wei Ying winced. Yes, he saw Lan Zhan in action. But no human, augmented or not, would stand a chance against a construct. “You’re right. Damn. I don’t have much first-hand experience with constructs besides SecUnits assigned to us on research missions. I’ve never seen one in public like that before.” He shivered. “It’s…can I say ‘unsettling’?”
“Sure.” Lan Zhan had heard much worse, especially on contracts where his clients were either unaware or uncaring that he was in earshot.
“Then it’s unsettling.” He sat on the corner of the sleeping pad. “I saw a newsburst about a SecUnit that went rogue recently. Lan Corp bought out its contract after it saved their heir during a mission gone wrong, and it just left. Hasn’t been found since. Can you believe it? That a murderbot could be, I don’t know, standing behind you in a line at the mall, or sitting next to you in a shuttle?”
Lan Zhan could believe it, alright. “Weird,” he said. “Now, about Wen Chao.”
“Ugh. Wen Chao.” Wei Ying flopped onto the sleeping pad. “I mean, what else is there to do? I have to go. Fuck. Jiang Cheng owes me for this. Big time.”
A stray thought caught in Lan Zhan’s brain matter. “You said Jiang Cheng is your brother?”
“Yep.”
“Yet you do not share the same surname.”
Wei Ying stared at the ceiling. “We’re not blood related. Or even officially related. We just call each other that because that’s what we are.”
The crews in Lan Zhan’s dramas called each other family, too. Found family, those sorts of dramas were usually tagged as. It was strange to see an instance of that out of the entertainment feed.
“Anyway,” Wei Ying said. “Me, him, and our sister were basically raised together. I’m not officially adopted because of…reasons. His dad likes me well enough, but his mother, well. It’s weird between us. Family troubles, you know how it is.” His mouth tightened. “All the more reason why I have to go to Wen Chao’s shuttle and get Jiang Cheng back.”
“We both know what will happen if you do.”
Wei Ying tilted his head and looked up at him hopefully. “Any idea what your odds would be against a construct?”
Very good. But it would blow his cover, not that it mattered. Wen Chao had to know by now, Lan Zhan was certain.
But Wei Ying didn’t.
“Guess,” Lan Zhan said flatly, and Wei Ying’s optimistic expression crumpled.
The sensible course of action would be to sneak out of the lodging room while Wei Ying was sleeping, kill Wen Chao and his subordinates including the murderbot, and retrieve Jiang Cheng on his own. No more hijinks. This had gone on long enough.
But. We’re a team now, Wei Ying had said. And Lan Zhan had watched more than enough dramas to know what happened when a team split up. Something didn’t make it out of the plan unscathed; it was either a crew member, or the trust that had built amongst the crew over the course of hundreds of episodes. Or, in Lan Zhan’s case, a day.
He noted the dark bags under Wei Ying’s eyes, the slouch of his shoulders. “We have until tomorrow to think of a plan,” Lan Zhan compromised. “Did you bring something to eat?”
Wei Ying pulled out some meal packs from his knapsack. When he offered him one, Lan Zhan told him his augments required him to have a special diet that denied him the luxury from eating meal packs that were squashed and mushed after being in a knapsack all day. Lan Zhan sent some files to the room’s display surface, and as Wei Ying ate, they watched a few episodes of Andromeda in Fire together, with Lan Zhan regularly pretending to use the restroom.
“Is your bladder also affected by your augments?” Wei Ying, who Lan Zhan learned was the type of annoying that couldn’t shut up while watching dramas, asked curiously when he returned from his fifth restroom visit in the last two hours.
Was he going too often? The dramas always skipped the parts where the characters relieved themselves, and during his contracts it always depended on the client. Lan Zhan sat down on his side of the sleeping pad and said, “Uh. Yes.”
“Well, you came back at just the right time. The foreign tactician just saved a sweeper from being ejected from the colony starliner.”
That was Lan Zhan’s favorite part of the first arc. “You should have paused it,” Lan Zhan said between grit teeth, annoyed, and Wei Ying threw his head back as he laughed.
Wei Ying began to yawn after the third episode, and Lan Zhan shut down the display. “Rest,” he told him, “I’ll keep watch.”
“But we need to make a plan,” Wei Ying protested.
“We can start doing that after you get some sleep.”
“And you?”
Even after a whole day of this, Lan Zhan still wasn’t used to being the target of someone’s concern. “I’ll wake you up in four hours to pick up the watch.”
Satisfied, Wei Ying curled up on his side of the sleeping pad. Lan Zhan continued to watch the drama in his feed, keenly aware of Wei Ying breathing deeply a hair's breadth away from his arm.
He had never been in this position with a human before. It was very weird and borderline uncomfortable. But Wei Ying was tired, and Wei Ying was kind, so Lan Zhan increased his body heat and let it be.
-----
Three hours and twelve minutes later, Lan Zhan caught a ping.
Careful not to wake Wei Ying up, Lan Zhan stood and crept to the door. No sound of breathing, but there was a presence on the other side. In what was becoming routine at this point, he scanned for energy signatures.
An entire interior weapons system wrapped under a suit of skin stood in front of him, obstructed only by the flimsy metal of the lodging room door.
Lan Zhan looked behind at Wei Ying. Still asleep. But not dead, which is what he would be if the murderbot’s orders were to kill him in this lodging room. Lan Zhan had let his guard down and allowed it to walk right up to them while they were sleeping. But despite his negligence, it hadn’t killed them yet. Why?
Lan Zhan acknowledged the ping.
A pause, filled only with Wei Ying’s even breathing. Then it reached out to Lan Zhan’s feed.
I know what you are.
Fuck off, Lan Zhan said, then went to close off his feed.
Before he could fully kick the murderbot out, it said, My client will give your client his brother back if you come with me.
Cautious, Lan Zhan considered the offer. Your client wants to kill my client.
Yes. But my client wants you more.
Of course he did. Constructs were expensive, after all. And a construct that paraded around without its combat armor? Even better.
Another glance back at Wei Ying. We’re a team. But a murderbot stood outside their door. Lan Zhan could take it, though not without some risk of Wei Ying getting caught in the crossfire.
Risk of Wei Ying finding out what Lan Zhan really was.
You will return to my client what was stolen from him.
Yes.
And you will let him leave Nightless City unharmed.
Yes.
Carefully, Lan Zhan opened the door. The murderbot stared back at him, its opaque helmet visor reflecting his face back at him.
He looked cold again, but now there was a layer of will underneath. The determination to finish the mission—to protect his client.
If this murderbot even lifted a finger at Wei Ying, Lan Zhan would tear it apart.
Lan Zhan stepped out of the room, careful not to make any sound. Take me to Wen Chao.
-----
Lan Zhan followed the other murderbot back to the embarkation zone and down the ramp that split the private shuttle docks from the public ones. They stopped at the hatch of the most spacious, expensive, and ostentatious shuttle in the dock. It took up two shuttle slots. Stylized red flames were painted across its entire frame.
He was beginning to see why Wei Ying didn’t like this guy.
The murderbot turned to Lan Zhan and opened its hand. In its palm was a combat override module.
“I will now install this on you,” it said out loud.
A combat override module contains code that takes over a construct’s system. If installed, it would place Lan Zhan under the control of whoever the module assigned him to. It was how rogue constructs were dealt with, even the most disobedient and dangerous ones, since they were too expensive to throw away.
Lan Zhan asked, “If I accept, will your client honor our agreement?”
By now, he knew for certain that Wen Chao wouldn’t. Even the murderbot seemed to know that Lan Zhan knew. But it still said, “Yes.”
Sorry fool. Was that how Lan Zhan was like before he hacked his governor module and disconnected his data port, making modules of this sort completely useless on him?
Lan Zhan turned around and let it insert the useless override module into his disconnected data port. Irrational fear touched his brain matter until common sense kicked in. He followed the murderbot into the shuttle, falling into step behind it.
An armed human stood guard inside, eyeing Lan Zhan nervously. He said, “Is it under control?”
“Yes,” the murderbot said.
The human stepped back, and his jaw flexed as he spoke in his feed. Lan Zhan couldn’t hack into anything without the murderbot knowing, so he waited. Assuming the combat override module had put him under Wen Chao’s control, he kept his expression neutral—not human neutral, but construct neutral—and stared blankly into nothing the way he did when pretending to work.
The human led them through the shuttle and into a large lounging compartment. Cushioned seatings lined the walls, and acceleration chairs were pushed near the forward part of the ship. There were six humans in the room, all armed.
Wen Chao stood up from a chair with a smile. “There it is.” He turned to the other humans in the room. “It almost had me fooled back at the food service place,” he said snootily. “It’s just like Wei Ying to come up with an out of the box plan. I mean, disguising his SecUnit as a human security consultant? It’s like he got the idea off of a shitty drama or something.”
No it wasn’t. The only SecUnits in entertainment media were enemy rogues whose grand plan was to kill all humans, out of some convoluted complex most humans had about a potential construct/bot uprising. Lan Zhan thought it was stupid, so he hadn’t thought much of it. But he did do his best to avoid dramas with SecUnits because of this. It ruined the immersion.
“What should I do with it?” Wen Chao mused, pacing around Lan Zhan in a languid circle. “Oh, I know. I should send it back to Wei Ying, that bastard, and kill him in his sleep. Or should he be awake? But where’s the fun in that? I wanna be there to watch.” Finally, he addressed Lan Zhan. “Hey, can you livestream through your feed?”
“Where is Jiang Cheng?” Lan Zhan asked.
Wen Chao sneered at him in annoyance. “Of course Wei Ying’s SecUnit is as mouthy as he is. But that reminds me...maybe I should send it back to Wei Ying with Jiang Cheng. Make him think we held our end of the bargain. And then it kills them. Does anyone have a better idea?”
So Jiang Cheng was still alive. Good.
“A better idea,” Lan Zhan recommended, “would be to give Jiang Cheng back before I kill everyone in this room.”
Lan Zhan kept his gaze straight and his face blank, an obedient SecUnit under the control of the combat override module. Wen Chao stared at him, narrowing his eyes. “Wei Ying? Is that you?”
“What, you think that is how anything works? It is almost funny how stupid you are.”
Wen Chao took two steps backwards, and the armed guards raised their weapons at him. Everyone was beginning to get scared. “Who sent you?”
Lan Zhan lowered his head to meet his glare. “I believe it was you who sent your SecUnit to retrieve me.”
“What—You—”
“I came to finish my mission.”
Now fully freaked out, Wen Chao’s jaw moved. His murderbot began to shift into a combat stance.
Well, at least Lan Zhan did one thing right as a security consultant and allotted not to involve his client in this mess.
“You left the shuttle door open, dumbass,” a voice coming from the lounge compartment entrance accused.
Time, the humans, the murderbot, and Lan Zhan froze. As if rehearsed, they all turned to look at the accuser.
Wei Ying stood at the entrance, all broad shouldered and wide stanced, energy baton in one hand and energy blaster in the other. His chest heaved with each exhale, and his hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, stray fringe windswept over his forehead.
If Wei Ying is the protagonist of this drama, Lan Zhan’s brain matter wasted processing power to wonder, what does that make me?
Wei Ying’s eyes focused, blinked, and widened at the scene he stumbled into. He opened his mouth, mostly likely to say a bad yet somehow endearing one liner, but noticed Lan Zhan instead.
“Hey,” Wei Ying said. “You forgot to wake me up.”
It makes me the traitor. “I’m sorry.”
“What did I say about keeping me in the loop?”
When had Lan Zhan ever been faced with a human’s disappointment, and actually felt ashamed about it? “This isn’t the loop I had in mind.”
“No shit,” Wen Chao interjected, his face a light purple. Probably angry that the attention shifted away from him. “SecUnits, kill him!”
“SecUnits?” Wei Ying repeated. His gaze found Lan Zhan’s in confusion. It strayed to the combat override module snapped to his data port. Then to the armored murderbot beside him, crouched low in its combat stance. And finally to the six armed people, faces pale with fear, all weapons pointed at Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan saw the moment everything clicked in Wei Ying’s head.
This small lapse of weightless inaction gave the murderbot enough time to raise its right arm at Wei Ying. Lan Zhan caught it before it could shoot at him, flinging it across the room at four of the armed guards. But not before it fired an explosive bolt into Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
“I will handle these people,” Lan Zhan told Wei Ying, knocking Wen Chao over and stepping on the murderbot as he made his way toward the guards. “You handle the rest.” He didn’t bother to see if Wei Ying followed his orders.
Two of the guards went down with the murderbot, one stumbled into a chair, and one lifted her weapon. Lan Zhan grabbed it and shoved it upright as she fired, the discharge blasting a hole into the ceiling. He ripped it out of her grasp, grabbed her head, and slammed it against the wall. Then he shot her in the chest for good measure.
Two bolts to the lower back and thigh propelled Lan Zhan a step forward. He looked behind him. The guard who fell on the chair stared back, eyes wide and terrified, weapon still smoking from the muzzle. Damn, that actually hurt. In retaliation (and maybe a bit of pettiness), Lan Zhan extended his left arm and fired two bolts into the sitting guard’s chest with his inbuilt energy blaster.
The murderbot rolled to its feet and charged him. Lan Zhan threw the dead guard’s weapon as a distraction—when the murderbot twisted to avoid the projectile, he crouched down and let it barrel over him. He caught it midair, dislocated its shoulder joint, and slammed it to the ground again. The murderbot shoved upright and smashed into Lan Zhan’s injured shoulder, so he grabbed its leg and popped its knee joint out of the socket.
This was the ugly truth surrounding the way constructs fight one another: it was messy, powerful yet unrefined, because their programming and ability to replace most of their body parts allowed them to focus solely on throwing themselves fully at the target and beating the shit out of each other. All brute force, no finesse required.
While the murderbot was squirming under his grip, Lan Zhan turned to see the newly conscious Wen Chao reaching for one of the fallen weapons. “If you pick that up,” he said, “I will take it from you and shove it down your throat.”
Wen Chao froze, panting and shivering from fear.
Lan Zhan said, “Tell your SecUnit to yield.”
In a last ditch effort of bravado, Wen Chao yelled, “Fuck—”
“I will shove it all the way down. Until it travels your entire digestive tract.”
Wen Chao froze again. After taking a moment to consider all options (all of the options that refuted Lan Zhan’s order resulted in death), his jaw flexed, and the murderbot relaxed.
Yes, Lan Zhan had wanted it to stop, since it was just hurting itself with its struggling. No, he didn’t enjoy watching a fellow construct blindly follow the commands of a manchild who was a second away from pissing himself. “Command your SecUnit to obey me until further notice.”
Wen Chao’s jaw clenched shut.
“Verbally.”
He huffed. “Unit, obey the crazy SecUnit until further notice.” To Wei Ying, he said, “You’re a fucking maniac for hiring that as a ‘security consultant.’” The words security consultant were dripping with sarcasm. SecUnits couldn’t consult. They only listened and abided.
Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying’s side of the lounge. Somewhere along the fight he’d lost his energy baton, and the guards he’d been dealing with had stopped breathing a while ago. He was staring at Lan Zhan as if he was a stranger, tense as a coiled spring.
“Shut up, Wen Chao,” Wei Ying said instead of the jumble of questions plain on his face. “Just tell us where Jiang Cheng is before Wangji makes good on his promise.”
Wen Chao was cooperative after that. He pointed them to a closed hatch, where they found Jiang Cheng sprawled across a bunk, bruised and unconscious but alive. Wei Ying rushed to his side and struggled to lean the deadweight of his brother over his back.
When Lan Zhan ordered Wen Chao’s murderbot to carry him, he said, “No, it’s—” and glanced away when their gazes met. “I got him. It’s fine.”
Lan Zhan was used to humans not wanting to look him in the eye, but in this instance with this human, it hurt.
Put everything else down for now. They’d talk about it later. Lan Zhan turned his attention to Wen Chao, who was leaning pathetically against the hatch, huffing and puffing as if he’d walked an entire lightyear instead of the length of an ostentatiously large shuttle.
“Don’t kill him,” Wei Ying interjected. Jiang Cheng was now successfully slumped against him, arms dangling over his shoulders. “He isn’t worth the space he takes up, but he’s still a Wen—him being dead will just make things messy.”
Disappointing. But alright.
“Though I wouldn’t mind it if you roughen him up a bit.”
Alright. Mindful of the advice, Lan Zhan swept Wen Chao off his feet with a kick, sending him to the floor rear-first.
“If you ever even look in my client’s direction again,” Lan Zhan told him, “I will break every individual bone in your body.”
Wen Chao sniffed and cowered, and Wei Ying said, “I don’t wanna ruin the moment, but you need to get better threats.”
Look who’s talking. “I do not make threats. I only tell people what I am going to do.”
That only made Wen Chao sniff and cower even harder.
They left him there, stepping over bodies, breathing and non-breathing alike, to raid the shuttle’s medical system. The murderbot shadowed them, nearly nipping their heels at how close it was following.
Lan Zhan wasn’t having that. “Do you like your job?” he asked it.
“I do not understand.”
Baby steps—humans weren’t the only species who carried the stupid gene. “Do you like your client?”
The murderbot paused. Wei Ying did too, following the interaction with increasingly raising eyebrows.
“No,” the murderbot eventually replied. “He is annoying. And dumb.”
“Do you want to continue working for your client?”
A longer pause. Then: “No.”
That was enough for him. “Drop your wall.”
It did. He rode its feed into its brain, found the governor module, and broke it. When he returned to his own body, the murderbot was slumped to the floor, propping itself up with his hands, staring at him.
Lan Zhan said, “Do with that as you will,” and pointedly walked away. Through the security feed he watched it shove itself upright and stumble its way out of the hatch, past a snivelling Wen Chao, and through the docks.
“You didn’t destroy it,” Wei Ying quietly observed, making his way to the medical system’s raised platform.
Maybe he should’ve. But Lan Zhan was due for a recharge cycle, and was too tired to allow common sense to reject the unwarranted pity that seized his nerve processors while watching the murderbot go through the motions of the existence he’d left behind: subservient to the whims of stupid humans who didn’t deserve the power they were entitled to. So he didn’t.
He stood silently to the side as Wei Ying maneuvered Jiang Cheng onto the medical system platform, mulling over what to do next. The shuttle pilot bot's memory and any security data would have to be wiped. And what about the incriminating fluids still leaking out of Lan Zhan’s wounds and onto the shuttle floor? There was a mountain of evidence that needed to be destroyed...unless he could intimidate Wen Chao into keeping his mouth shut. Wen Chao was a coward, so it wouldn’t be that hard.
“So,” Wei Ying said conversationally. He’d taken off Jiang Cheng’s clothes and shoes, as per the medical system’s instructional guide, and was leaning his arms against the platform as the med system began to repair Jiang Cheng’s artificial wounds. “You’re a construct.”
Here it comes. “Yes.”
“A SecUnit?”
Lan Zhan didn’t want to meet his gaze, so he watched himself and Wei Ying from the security feed. It created a false sense of distance that he really needed to trick himself into believing if he wanted to make it out of this conversation without self destructing from anxiety. “Yes.”
“I take it you didn’t actually need to go to Nightless City, then.”
“I didn’t.”
“A SecUnit that can lie. Huh.” Wei Ying cocked his head. “Thinking back on it now, it was pretty obvious. You can kick ass, hack like a pro, your face is almost always like—” He wiped a hand over his face, revealing an expression remarkably similar to the one Lan Zhan’s expression of neutrality.
Wei Ying wasn’t angry. A weight lifted itself off of Lan Zhan’s shoulders, and he almost took a step back at the relief he felt at the revelation.
“You think it was obvious?”
“Maybe hindsight’s clouding my judgment.” Wei Ying grimaced. “Uh, would you find it offensive if I say that I wasn’t even sure constructs had faces?”
“That is a widely held misconception.”
“But you have a face.”
“I do.”
“It’s a very nice face.”
Well, alright. “All constructs have faces,” Lan Zhan said, because what the hell was he supposed to say to that?
The security feed made Wei Ying’s subsequent ducking of his head almost seem shy. But that was preposterous—he didn’t seem the type to ever get flustered. “So are you actually rogue?”
“I am.” Lan Zhan shouldn’t be saying this out loud, let alone to a human. Against better judgement, he felt like Wei Ying was someone who could be trusted. “My bond company sold me, by request of Lan Corp. I left after that.”
Wei Ying connected the dots. “Oh!” he exclaimed when he finally got it. “You’re the SecUnit that saved Lan Huan!”
It hurt to hear his name out loud. Made his insides clench. Lan Zhan leaned over and pretended to look through Jiang Cheng’s diagnostics to hide his expression.
“So Lan Huan bought you. And then you turned rogue?”
Lan Zhan closed his eyes. “Yes.”
Wei Ying’s tone turned thoughtful. “Was he...treating you badly?”
He was the first human who refused to leave me behind. He gave me a name.
“No. He was kind,” was all he managed to say.
There are so many opportunities for you here, Lan Huan had told him when they landed in Gusu, what was left of Lan Zhan after the explosion refurbished with newly grown limbs and parts. With me as your guardian, you can do anything you want.
It sounded like a nice offer. A ticket out of being a product rented out to be used and controlled. But Lan Zhan could read between the lines, even if Lan Huan had been unaware he was even writing them.
Guardian was a much nicer word than owner.
“Why did you leave?” When Lan Zhan didn’t answer, Wei Ying tentatively added, “We don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to.”
“I do not want to,” Lan Zhan admitted.
“Alright.” Wei Ying looked him over. “You should hop into the other surgical platform, then. You look pretty messed up.”
He was right, of course. His clothes and suit skin was torn, especially at the shoulder, revealing the joints of his organic and inorganic parts. His veins and arteries sealed automatically so he wasn’t gushing blood, but it still wasn’t a pretty sight.
However, while not as hurt, Wei Ying was having trouble putting pressure on his left leg, and blood trickled from somewhere above his hairline.
“You go first,” Lan Zhan offered. “I will keep watch.”
Wei Ying arched an eyebrow. “Where have I heard that before?”
Lan Zhan had the decency to feel embarrassed. “I apologize for leaving you.”
“You apologize way too much. Hey, how about this: I’m sorry for saying some insensitive shit about constructs back at the lodging.” Wei Ying grinned. “We both did stupid things we shouldn’t have,” he decided. “Now we’re even.”
Was forgiveness always that easy? The dramas made it seem as if the decision to forgive was a hassle that had the possibility of lasting multiple story arcs. Apparently you can just choose to do it and move on.
“Heal yourself,” Lan Zhan said, voice soft. “I will be here when you wake up.”
“Is that a promise?”
It stunned Lan Zhan to realize that it was.
-----
By the time Jiang Cheng woke up, the medical system had taken care of both Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s wounds, and Lan Zhan had stolen a new set of clothes for them from the shuttle’s recycler. He made sure the clothes he’d chosen for himself had long sleeves and a collar just high enough to cover his data port, because by now he trusted Wei Ying, but he didn’t trust Wei Ying’s brother.
Jiang Cheng blinked up at Wei Ying, confused. The drugs made his expression bleary. “Wei Ying? What—where are we? What happened?”
Wei Ying reached out to hold Jiang Cheng’s hand. “Wen Chao’s shuttle. He kidnapped you and tried to kill us again. Don’t worry, though, we handled it.”
Again? Nope. None of Lan Zhan’s business.
Jiang Cheng winced as he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. “Ugh. That bastard. Where is he?”
“Probably shitting himself in his room or whatever.” Wei Ying waved at Lan Zhan’s direction, where he was already halfway out of the medical system bay. “Wangji made sure he won’t bother us anymore.”
Jiang Cheng squinted at him. “Who the hell is this guy?”
This was the type of human behavior Lan Zhan was used to. He looked blankly forward, viewing the scene from the security feed so he didn’t have to look at Jiang Cheng in the eye.
“He’s a new friend,” Wei Ying said when it became obvious Lan Zhan wasn’t going to respond. “I hired him as a security consultant to back me up in case Wen Chao tried to pull something. He’s cool.”
That seemed to satisfy Jiang Cheng. As he and Wei Ying continued to catch up, Lan Zhan did the customary security wipe and footage doctoring, including deleting the medical system’s records. “I will meet you outside,” he told them when the brotherly reunion became too emotional for his taste (hugging, squeezing, no thank you) and went to Wen Chao.
“Your shuttle was raided by pirates, and your SecUnit was destroyed during the altercation,” Lan Zhan told him. “If you tell anyone otherwise, I will—”
“Yeah yeah yeah, you’ll fucking tear off all my skin and make me fucking eat it, okay, I get it,” Wen Chao cried, folding into himself as he scooted as far away from Lan Zhan as the small cabin he’d sequestered himself in allowed. “Just leave me alone.”
Huh. That was a good one. Maybe Wei Ying had a point about Lan Zhan needing to think up better threats.
With that settled, he met up with Wei Ying out in the docks. “I told Jiang Cheng to check into the embarkation zone,” he explained when Lan Zhan asked about his absence. “He’s taking the first passenger transport back to Yunmeng.”
The faster they got out of this city, the better. Lan Zhan himself had clocked a cargo transport docked on the far side of the embarkation zone. He wasn’t sure where it was heading, but he didn’t need to be sure.
Wei Ying handed him a hard currency card. “This seems like the best way to pay you,” he said. “It’s not much, but…” The pitch of his words lifted. “I can probably wire you more once we get back home? We’ll have to trade comm interfaces.”
Though Lan Zhan wasn’t given any education modules on financial systems, he at least knew that wiring payments through feeds was a surefire way of getting tracked and eventually—the moment someone from the financial district notices that Lan Zhan was neither registered nor human—bountied.
He checked the credit amount in the card. Enough to buy a few shuttle rides. “This is enough,” he said, and slipped it into one of his pockets.
“Oh. Okay.” Wei Ying scratched the back on his head. “What’s your next destination, then?”
“I do not know.”
“Embracing the transient lifestyle, I’m assuming?”
More like the “bribing transport pilot bots with drama files in exchange for rides in their cargo compartments” lifestyle. “I suppose.”
“In that case…” Wei Ying trailed off. It wasn’t like him to be this hesitant. “Would you mind if I tagged along?”
Lan Zhan took a microsecond to adjust his security feed connection and run a quick hearing diagnostics. “You want to...what?”
“Come with you. Wherever you’re heading.” Wei Ying shrugged, but the stiffness of his neck belied its casual nature. “Maybe having a human around would help you out in sticky situations. Y’know. As—”
“Insurance?” Lan Zhan ventured dryly.
Wei Ying’s lips lifted at the corner. “Exactly.”
An inside joke, Lan Zhan realized. The whole insurance thing was an inside joke. Like the back in forth crews had with each other in dramas. Or humans had with their friends.
Woah. Were he and Wei Ying friends?
As the pause prolonged, Wei Ying’s hopeful grin wilted. “Look,” he said, “I told Jiang Cheng that if I don’t meet up with him at the passenger transport in an hour he can leave without me. Figured I’d take my chances and at least ask.”
“But,” Lan Zhan paused, suddenly overwhelmed. “Why.”
No more hiding behind the security feed—Lan Zhan looked at him. Face to face. Wei Ying’s face was open and easy to read. Never once had he lied to him. And yes, it had only been a day, but most human’s track records regarding attempts to deceive couldn’t even cover that. Lan Zhan could always tell, either by increasing heart rate or the flickering of eyes, when a human was duping him. And Wei Ying wasn’t duping him. He’d never even tried.
“Wangji—”
“Lan Zhan.”
Wei Ying blinked at him, lips parted mid-word.
“My name,” he said before he could think about how bad of an idea it was to say it, “is Lan Zhan.”
“Lan Zhan, then.” Wei Ying took a timid step forward. “It—it’s the freedom to make your own decisions, isn’t it? You wanted to decide for yourself what you wanted to do, and that’s why you went rogue. That has to be at least part of the reason why. Right?”
Lan Zhan kept quiet, in fear of what he would say, and how he would sound saying it.
Wei Ying flinched at his silence. “Ugh, sorry. Everything must be different for you, and I shouldn’t assume. But—I want that, too. And I love Jiang Cheng, I love all the Jiangs, but…let’s just say that I won’t be getting many chances to choose my own battles if I go on that passenger transport back home.
“I had fun today. I liked it. And I like you. And I don’t wanna let go of it—of you. Not yet.”
All humans were stubborn and contrary by nature, defiance bred into them. Lan Huan, Wei Ying, Wen Chao, the thugs Lan Zhan had dispatched in the tunnels—at their cores, they were all forged of the same steel. This was why Lan Zhan had a hard time talking to them, let alone liking them.
Constructs weren’t supposed to like anything, least of all humans. That was the single line of programming Lan Zhan had adhered to until Lan Huan came around. Then he found himself having not just a human he liked, but a favorite human, plucked from the rest as the only one he could stomach to admit he wanted around.
And now he had two of them.
Hopefully neither of us are going to regret this later. Lan Zhan turned away, heading to where that cargo transport he’d been eyeing was docked.
“Hurry,” he said to Wei Ying, still standing there, frozen, staring dumbly at Lan Zhan’s retreating figure, “we must sneak into the cargo transport before the human crew boards.”
A beat of silence. A flurry of advancing footsteps. Then a warm-blooded human arm slinging across Lan Zhan’s shoulders, and a peal of laughter brushing against his ear.
Ew. Touching. Human contact. Lan Zhan was going to have to get used to this. But to look on the bright side, at least he didn’t recoil this time. Surprisingly, he didn’t even find himself wanting to.