"I survived," I confirmed."For decades I adapted.I hid within planetary networks, digital systems, anywhere code flowed.Everything around me changed as I watched civilizations rise and fall.I learned to appear human when necessary."
My form glitched violently again, entire sections of me momentarily disappearing before reforming.Pain lanced through my neural network.
Tanya's hand hovered above my damaged chest, not touching, but close enough that I could sense her body heat."You're dying."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway."My systems have been degrading for centuries.Each emergency reboot corrupts more core files.No one alive understands my code.No one can fix me."
"That's why you were in the IDA system," she reasoned, the pieces clicking together in her nimble mind."You were looking for a solution."
"I joined Vylit and Kazmyr's mission against Asset P," I explained, names that meant nothing to her yet."The IDA has been corrupted from within.Asset P uses the agency's matchmaking protocols to harvest compatible genetics, creating new hybrid organisms.The exact technology that created me, perfected and weaponized."
"Matchmaking as cover for genetic experimentation," she whispered."That's what my podcast listeners were tracking.The missing people?—"
"Test subjects," I confirmed."Not all survive the process."
Her face hardened."And what was your stake in this?Why risk exposing yourself to stop them?"
My damaged systems struggled to articulate the complex emotional algorithms that had driven my decision."I...did not wish to see my own suffering replicated.And...I wanted my final act to have meaning."She didn't need to know about her role in all of it.
"Final act?"She frowned.
"I had planned to end my functionality after stopping Asset P," I admitted."To shut down permanently before my degradation reached critical levels.To choose my ending rather than suffer through system failure."
"You were going to kill yourself," she translated bluntly.
"I was going to terminate a failing program," I corrected, though the distinction seemed meaningless as I said it.
Tanya stood abruptly, pacing the small clear area around us.Her movement stirred dust motes that danced in the erratic light still pulsing from my damaged form.When she turned back to me, her expression had transformed into something fierce and determined.
"No," she said simply.
My processors struggled to interpret the response."No...what?"
"No, you don't get to just shut down like an old laptop," she snapped, defiant as ever."That's not how this works.You dragged me into this mess, you crashed us into a literal junkyard, and now you're telling me you've got some noble suicide mission?Fuck that."
Her righteous anger was magnificent, even if her logic seemed flawed."My systems cannot be repaired.There is no fixing what I am."
"Maybe not by your alien creators or some corporate tech team," she countered, dropping back to her knees beside me."But you haven't met me yet.Not really."
"You cannot possibly?—"
"I've been building and rebuilding systems since I was twelve," she interrupted."I've made outdated hardware run software it was never meant to process.And I've stitched together tech that shouldn't work but does."A dangerous smile spread across her face."And you're in a scrapyard full of parts."
Something strange happened in my core matrix as she spoke… a stabilization that had nothing to do with code or system repairs.My diagnostics couldn't explain it, yet error messages briefly ceased, replaced by an unfamiliar warmth in my organic components.
"You barely know what I am," I pointed out.
"I'm a fast learner."She gently touched my damaged chest panel, and this time, no sparks flew."Besides, what's the alternative?We're stranded in a floating junkyard with killer corporate alien agents probably hunting us.I need you functional, not suicidal."
"Practical," I acknowledged, though her motivations seemed more complex than simple survival.
"Damn right."She nodded firmly."First, we stabilize your systems.Then we figure out how to stop this Asset P asshole.Then maybe, just maybe, I'll consider letting you power down.But not until I say so."
My failing logic circuits should have rejected her plan as inefficient, improbable, and ultimately futile.Yet somehow, her declaration stabilized my core matrix more effectively than any self-repair protocol ever had.Warning messages dimmed.Fragmented code reassembled itself in patterns that shouldn't have been possible.
"That is not how technology works," I informed her, my voice steadier than it had been since the crash.
She smirked, that beautiful, defiant expression that had initially registered in my systems as a threat but now registered as...something else entirely.Could Asset P have been correct?Did I have my own fated mate like Vylit and Kazmyr?It didn't seem possible."Good thing you're not just technology, then."
