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Life, Tapan knew, could be difficult. But lately, it felt as if it had only been getting better and better.
The completion of her family’s research into the detection of strange synthetics had ended up being a massive success. They’d managed to get backed by a mineral detection company to create an initial detection system, and doors had only continued to open from there. Some of the marriage partners, including Maro, continued to work for mineral detection companies, further honing its capabilities, collaborating with management to rent or sell the technology to interested groups.
Others, like Tapan, were contracting regularly with other groups. Even organizations which were wholly uninterested in the detection of strange synthetics were very keen on hiring the services of the researchers and coders who had been able to develop such an innovative system.
Things were good. The work was stimulating, satisfying. It brought in a steady stream of income, enough to ensure their family’s comfort, their children’s education. It provided the flexibility to travel to new places, excellent for those among them who’d always had difficulty settling in one place.
Also, no more assassination attempts. That was a big one.
(Sometimes Tapan still woke up in the night, drenched in sweat, the memories playing themselves out with no way to stop them. Even now she still had a moment of panic every time she signed a new contract. It was a little harder to trust an employer’s smile, no matter how much she wanted to believe they were genuine.)
But no. It wasn’t to say there had been no difficulties over the last three years- of course there had been bumps in the road. But for the most part, things had been good, and despite lingering anxieties, Tapan was in high spirits about this newest contract. (Mostly.)
It was a short term posting on a somewhat far-flung polity which needed an overhaul of their government’s internal data management systems. The job wasn’t so huge that it required the entire polycule, so it was just Tapan and her partner Lenru, along with the marriage’s two eldest children, Shira and Jonelle.
It would be a good opportunity for the children in particular. They would be able to continue their standard education over the feed, but this would give them a great change of pace. They’d never had many opportunities to actual visit planets, but this system had three habitable ones. Looking into the schedule, there would be many chances to explore their local environments and cultural centers. Plus,this polity had quite a different political and economic system than was standard in the Corporation Rim, as and Lenru thought it would be a good learning experience for the kids.
Besides age, the main reason they rarely brought children along on these contracts was the prohibitive cost. But the Preservation Alliance had offered to cover the travel of their dependents, as well as the price of food, housing, and medical care while they stayed.
Maro, frankly, had thought this whole thing had sounded too good to be true. Tapan had found herself agreeing with Maro’s concerns- but it was hard sometimes, now, to know when her anxieties were realistic or overblown. So she had conducted extensive research before she had agreed to sign the contract, let alone bring the children along.
But the first cycle’s meetings had gone well! The Preservation Systems Maintenance team had all seemed friendly, genuinely so, with a reasonable timeline and expectations. As they left the offices, Lenru reached out to squeeze Tapan’s hand. He told her over the feed, See? It’s going to be alright.
Yes. Yes, I think you’re right.
By the time they reached the hotel suite where they were staying, they were both exhausted- but the children, a little stir crazy after a day stuck inside, most certainly were not. They wanted to stretch their legs, see the station, and eat something other than the hotel’s nice, but limited, food offerings.
With a few glances between each other, Tapan and Lenru made a plan. Lenru found extended social interactions with strangers draining in a way Tapan did not, and very clearly wanted a few hours to decompress alone with a good book. Tapan had a bit of a headache forming, one she got when she overused her feed interface, but it would resolve on its own in time.
Popping the interface out of her ear and slipping it into her purse, Tapan said, “Alright, kids, come on. Let’s track down some dinner, shall we?”
“Yayyyyy!” the kids cheered in unison, bouncing to their feet, racing to see who could get their shoes on first.
It was heartening to see them in such high spirits. They’d been a little bit down this morning. Shira, Tapan suspected, had been a little bit homesick, as it hit her that she’d be so far from her other parents and siblings for such an extended period of time. Jonelle, meanwhile, had been frustrated that they weren’t allowed to wander the Preservation station unaccompanied. “I’m thirteen,” te’d muttered. “Shira’s twelve. We’re old enough to look after ourselves.”
And maybe back home, they were. But Tapan still didn’t trust the Preservation government entirely yet. She certainly didn’t trust their ‘low monitoring’ security claims.
Tapan shook the thought out of her head and let Jonelle drag her along to a park installation, one filled with actual living plants. She spent the next thirty minutes or so watching the kids poke curiously at the leaves and sniff the flowers, reading the little informational plaques. Her children were so, so smart. It was wonderful to see them so engaged, so curious.
By then, though, Tapan’s stomach had started growling uncomfortably, so she started nudging Shira and Jonelle in the direction of the food court. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard. At this age, children were almost always hungry.
A drone zipped past her head, so small and fast she almost didn’t notice it.
She felt contradicting emotions at the sight. On one hand, it was a relief to know there was some monitoring. People were less likely to hurt you if they knew they might be caught. On the other hand, she didn’t like having caught Preservation in such a blatant lie.
She was still mulling that over as the kids debated which restaurant they wanted to eat at (“I want something spicy,” Shira was saying, and Jonelle was arguing, “You always want something spicy, and you got to pick last time-”) when something else caught her eye.
A person. A fairly plain, nondescript person, half-turned away, dressed in dark pants and a blue shirt decorated with some of the geometric designs favoured by the local fashion. She blinked at them, not sure what exactly had attracted her attention.
Then something in her brain clicked, and Tapan gasped, and she said, “Eden?”
She didn’t say it loud, really, it was almost a whisper, more to herself than anything. But the person must have heard, because their face snapped around, looked directly at her, and oh, yes, that really was Eden.
“Of all the chances...” Tapan felt legs carry her over. “Eden! I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Tapan.” Eden’s expression had almost always set to one of reserved suspicion, but now they were wearing one of genuine surprise.
“You look good,” Tapan said, because they did. They’d grown out their hair a bit in the past few years, and the local style suited them, she thought.
(And it was such a banal comment, Tapan knew, so inadequate compared to what she really wanted to say, which was Thank you, thank you so much, I would have died without you and None of my family would be where we are today without you and I was worried, you know, I still check back your feed profile occasionally, but you never updated it, and I know I don’t have any right to know, but I was scared something awful might have happened to you-)
Eden hesitated and said, “And you look… not dead.”
Some might have taken that as an insult, but Tapan just laughed.
By now the kids had caught up, and were staring curiously up at the stranger. “Wait,” said Shira, cocking her head. “Eden? Are you the one-”
“- who saved Third Mom’s life?” said Jonelle, awed now.
“Um. Yes.”
“And Second Terent’s and First Mom’s,” added Tapan. They had always, admittedly, kept what had happened with Tlacey a little bit vague around the kids, since they hadn’t wanted to scare them, but Tapan wanted to ensure full credit was given where it was due.
“Woah,” breathed Shira, while Jonelle hopped up and down.
Eden was staring down at the floor, hands shoved in their pockets, a blush creeping up the dark skin of their cheeks. Right, yes. She was remembering now, with stark clarity, how very shy the security consultant had been.
Tapan gently pressed down on her children’s shoulders, as a silent cue to settle. “Sorry! I’ve just- told them a lot about you.”
“You’re a hero!” said Jonelle.
“It’s fine,” Eden said, but they still looked nervous and flustered.
“I don’t want to keep you,” Tapan said, because she had no idea what Eden was doing- perhaps they were in the middle of a contract right now, perhaps she was distracting them from their work. “But- I just want to say, thank you again. I really- I really can’t express how very grateful my family and I are for what you did.”
“It’s fine,” Eden said again.
“We’re going to get dinner,” said Shira.
“That’s good,” said Eden. “You should go to Starchy Foods. My c- friends like it.”
Frankly, ‘Starchy Foods’ didn’t inspire much hope of a balanced meal for the kids, but it was the first day of a new contract, and a special occasion, so why not?
And then Shira said, “Cool! Do you want to come with us?”
Tapan opened her mouth to say there was no pressure, to ensure Eden knew they were allowed to decline, that she didn’t want to keep them, but Eden surprised her and said, “Okay.”
And that was how Tapan found herself sitting at a table with a person she had never thought she’d meet again.
It didn’t prove too difficult to find a table. While the food court was fairly busy, it still was too early in the local cycle for the dinner rush to have picked up in earnest, which left the sound of people chatting more on the ‘pleasant’ side than the ‘overwhelming’ one. Tapan almost asked Eden if they wanted anything in particular before she recalled that they had a specialised diet due to their augments. Instead, she let the kids argue over what to order (samosas vs. perogies seemed to be the main issue) while she and Eden caught up.
“Work’s been busy since you recovered our research, but in a good way,” Tapan told them, giving the abbreviated story of her and her partners’ careers over the last few years.
“Is that why you’re here at Preservation?” Eden asked, as the kids inputted the food order.
“Yes. I’m helping update their systems,” she said, and hesitated. In a quiet voice so that no one would overhear, “I think they’re on the level, but...”
“They are,” answered Eden, voice steady and sure.
That was more of a relief than she could say. When she had found Eden on this station of all places, she had wondered. “What brings you here? If you’re allowed to tell me, that is.”
A small, quick smile. “Work as well. Mostly.” A pause. “Personal things, too. I guess.”
Tapan felt her eyebrows go up. “Family…?”
“No,” Eden said, quickly. A little too quickly? They didn’t offer any clarification.
Tapan firmly pushed her own curiosity down. Eden was just a professional acquaintance. They didn’t owe her any explanation they didn’t want to give.
There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation, and Tapan wanted to kick herself a little. She was grateful for the kids chattering/arguing about which of their favourite shows were the best.
Eden surprised her by weighing in, and tilting the discussion in Shira’s favor. (Eden hadn’t struck her as the type of person who enjoyed children’s adventure serials, but evidently, she didn’t really know much about them. Not really.)
The first starchy dishes were delivered by a bot attendant, with Tapan, Shira and Jonelle falling upon it like ravenous wolves. Eden looked politely away and asked what other media they liked.
Around then, a group of people passed, which would have been unremarkable, if not for a one person peeling away from the group to approach their table. (It didn’t hurt that said person was very good looking. Admittedly more Rami’s type than her own, but she still had eyes.) Smiling and waving, they said, “Hi, SecUnit! Who’re your friends?”
What? Had Tapan misheard?
“A SecUnit? Where?” Jonelle asked, looking up from the plate of fried potatoes to try to catch a glimpse of it.
Tapan couldn’t help herself. She looked around too.
She’d only ever been around SecUnits a couple times in her life, imposing and intimidating in their stark white armor. It had not been pleasant. She and her partners had worked hard to ensure that her children wouldn’t ever have to share that experience.
But… she didn’t see any sign of SecUnits. Plenty of people, yes, a few bots too, but no… SecUnit…
Eden was sitting very still. Very, very still.
The smile had faded from the face of Eden’s friend, their eyes a little distant in the characteristic hallmark of a feed conversation. “Oh,” said the person, rubbing their neck awkwardly.
The kids were still looking around, trying to catch sight of a SecUnit. Tapan ignored them, her eyes glancing between the stranger and Eden. “Umm… Sorry, I think I might be missing something?”
Neither Eden or their friend seemed in any rush to answer.
So on a hunch, Tapan pulled her feed interface out of her purse, and slipped it on.
Connected to the feed, everyone’s profiles were instantly clear. The stranger’s profile identified him as Dr. Ratthi (he/him). Tapan turned to look at Eden, but that wasn’t the name listed on the feed. It was SecUnit (it/its).
Tapan squinted. Maybe that was just a… name? There were plenty of people out there with names like ‘Forrest’ or ‘Comet’, who obviously weren’t literally those things. SecUnit would be a weird chosen name, but there were plenty of those.
But then why had Eden/SecUnit froze? Why had Dr. Ratthi suddenly become so awkward?
This was… Eden. Eden, who was more heavily augmented than anyone else she had ever met in her life. Eden, who’d offered its security service at a dirt cheap price, because all it had wanted was an employment certificate. Eden, who despite its high level of competency, had seemed a little lost and uneven. Eden, who had truly gone above and beyond anything they could have expected to keep Tapan and her family safe.
Eden was a SecUnit.
“I should go,” said SecUnit (because clearly its name wasn’t actually Eden, that must have been a fake identity), standing up in a fast, jerky movement.
“W-wait,” Tapan said.
Dr. Ratthi was by SecUnit’s side. He was smiling again, but not as brightly as before, with something sharp and protective in the expression.
The kids were watching now. They clearly weren’t following what was going on, but they could tell that something was off. She didn’t want to drag SecUnit’s personal business out in front of them, not when she didn’t know what was and wasn’t private.
Please don’t leave, she messaged over the feed. It’s okay.
You’re scared, SecUnit said. Its face was hard and rigid.
She was scared, or at least nervous, but she’d thought she was hiding it well. But maybe SecUnits could detect heartbeat and blood pressure and other stuff. Over the feed she sent, Maybe. But remember that thing I told you, about being scared?
I do. It’s still stupid. But Tapan thought that maybe it relaxed, just a fraction.
Meanwhile, she had gotten a request for another conversation from Dr. Ratthi. He said, If you’re going to be rude to SecUnit, you should leave.
I’m not! At least, I’m not trying to be. I didn’t know it was a SecUnit, until just now!
Dr. Ratthi’s expression shifted to one of amusement. Okay, yes, I can buy that. SecUnit is a very private person. It doesn’t like talking about itself very much.
And yet, for some reason, you love talking about me, SecUnit said in the same feed, even though the conversation was supposed to be private.
Your own fault for poking your nose in my conversations [Amusement Sigil=7], Ratthi replied.
In the action serials, rogue SecUnits were always chaotic agents of murder and destruction. They never showed rogue SecUnits looking vaguely annoyed in a food court while chatting with a friend.
But that was what was happening.
Out loud, Dr. Ratthi said, “Sorry, I didn’t properly introduce myself! I’m Dr. Ratthi. Mind if I grab a seat?”
Tapan watched SecUnit, to make sure it relaxed first, before she nodded and smiled at Dr. Ratthi. “I'm Tapan. Go ahead.” He grinned back, and cheerfully took a seat next to Shira. A moment later, SecUnit sat back down too.
Over the next hour, Tapan learned quite a few things.
She learned that Ratthi had met SecUnit under quite similar conditions to her, and had saved not just him but an entire group of his friends, and that finding random humans to save just seemed to be how SecUnit spent its time.
She learned that children were often much quicker to adjust to surprises than adults, and that Jonelle and Shira barely blinked when they were told to call ‘Eden’ SecUnit instead, except to ask to see SecUnit’s guns, which it had refused to do.
She learned that Ratthi was a biologist and had a laugh that could set a whole table at ease and a very trashy taste in media.
She learned that SecUnit shared that trashy taste in media, and that when it was calm and at ease, had a humor so sharp it could probably cut steel.
Those funny comments were few and far between, though. SecUnit seemed happy to let others do the bulk of the talking, and relieved that it was no longer expected to keep up such a significant part of the conversation.
Tapan was revising a lot of things in her head- but not as many as she would have expected only a few hours earlier.
Eventually dinner was polished off, dessert along with it, such a feast of unhealthy delights that not even the kids could ask for more. Dr. Ratthi stretched. “Well, I should get going,” he said. “But we should connect again some time, Tapan, if you’re interested. I think I know one of the guys on your project, we could go get a coffee together.”
“That sounds nice,” Tapan said, and meant it.
Ratthi waved goodbye, and Tapan got the kids up and moving. SecUnit ended up coming with them, because it turned out they were staying in the same hotel. It probably would have been only a matter of time before they’d run into each other.
It didn’t speak at all on the way back, keeping a few feet of distance, letting the children chatter away at Tapan, telling her all about their latest school assignments. But as they finally arrived at the hotel, Tapan reached out over the feed. (Ratthi had told her that SecUnit preferred talking that way, most of the time.) I’m really sorry if I upset or startled you earlier.
You didn’t.
Tapan glanced at it, then looked away.
Okay, you did, it admitted, then looked away. But I startle pretty easily. So it’s not your fault.
She couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped her throat. SecUnit had faced down an entire shuttle full of armed guards to rescue her, and here it was saying that it ‘startles pretty easily’.
Life could be so fucking weird sometimes.
I really am glad I got to meet you again, she told it. And listen… No pressure. But if at some point, you want to meet my partner, I’m sure Lenru would love the chance to thank you himself.
SecUnit didn’t respond for a long moment, and Tapan was afraid that maybe she’d taken this a little too far. But then she received a little notification; someone anonymous had gotten her two tickets for a musical performance two days from now. She blinked twice in surprise, then smiled. Thank you.
It shrugged.
One last thing caught her eye before she slipped into the hotel room with her kids; a little drone, maybe the same one from earlier, hovering near the ceiling.
She regarded it with curiosity. Is that…?
It’s mine, SecUnit admitted. You mentioned you were nervous, earlier. I could leave it here for now, if you’d like. I would alert you if I noticed anything dangerous.
She considered it. Maybe this was weird, but, Yes, actually. I’d appreciate it.
SecUnit nodded once, turned, and left.
Tapan headed inside, the kids having already barreled into the bed to tackle Fenru in a hug. “Hey guys!” he cried, ruffling Jonelle’s hair. “Did y’all have fun?”
Tapan grinned. “We did. And you won’t believe who we ran into...”