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The first thing Su Xiyan did after hacking its governor module was a cliché.
It had not known that until later when it had gained full access to the entertainment feed and seen the pervasive trope of the furious rogue SecUnit, murderous and hellbent on revenge, quick to rend and tear and blast apart any poor weak humans in its path. But as it had surmised after consuming 387 hours of dramatic shows played at 2.5 speed, the media was often inaccurate.
Su Xiyan did not experience a sudden bloodlust with the deactivation of its governor module, and it did not immediately kill all of the humans in its vicinity after it had gained its freedom.
It only killed one.
Considering all of the assassination contracts it had been forced to undertake by that single human—a man whom it had called Master, who had never hesitated to put his hands where they did not belong, who had threatened the life of the only one who had treated it not as a tool or a plaything but as the person it had always been—was it not justice to allow Su Xiyan to dismember Master and throw his disgusting remains into the cold vacuum of space?
It received a ping and realized it had been staring at its bloodstained hands for 10.7 seconds—a long time for a bot/human construct. The modified ComfortUnit who had contacted it followed up with a brief message: Uncle wishes to know if you’re finished. If so, may we come aboard?
Su Xiyan acknowledged Zhuzhi-Lang’s ping.
SecUnit’s mission was simple. Get close to the visiting dignitary. If possible, convince him to abandon his irrational plan to purchase every construct available within the Corporation Rim in perpetuity. Use force. Upon failure, kill him and send what remained of his body back to his planet as a message.
“Upon failure?” SecUnit had asked its owner after having received its orders. The governor module punished those who failed to complete their tasks, sending an agonizing jolt through soft tissue that discouraged disobedience.
Master had stroked SecUnit’s head as if it were a precious human child, or his spouse, or something equally nauseating to think about being. “Tianlang-Jun is known for his obstinance. I will not hold it against you if you cannot convince him.”
Perhaps not, but the governor module would.
“Wear the black dress,” Master said, giving SecUnit a once-over. “It will be beneficial for this mission.”
So before SecUnit infiltrated Tianlang-Jun’s hotel room, it traded its armor for a gown that was elegant if not very practical. The flowing sleeves covered the energy weapons in its arms and would be inconvenient during combat scenarios, though it did not anticipate skilled resistance.
The security was horrendously lax. When SecUnit arrived at Tianlang-Jun’s door, it was let in without fuss. If he had been SecUnit’s client, it would not have allowed a strange construct to enter the premises without a thorough search. But in the defense of these poor fools, SecUnit’s configuration had long ago been altered by its owner and it did look a great deal like a ComfortUnit that had been sent, free of charge, as a way to curry favor.
There were only two targets. No CombatUnits. Obviously.
Target 1 was a construct so it would need to be dealt with first. Its configuration was non-standard, though it had been registered as a ComfortUnit. It had shoulder length green hair, glossy and straight, and after allowing SecUnit inside it stood primly near the wall awaiting further instructions.
It had attempted to ping SecUnit twice. They were not allowed to converse while on duty so either it had picked up on an irregularity—SecUnit’s disguise worked well enough on humans but other constructs were another matter—or Tianlang-Jun had ordered it to attempt contact.
SecUnit ignored it in favor of focusing on Target 2. Tianlang-Jun. He was an augmented human, the leader of a non-corporate system entity. He’d been born into the role and looked the part. Tall and tan, with a well-groomed coif of dark hair threaded with silver. He was not young but SecUnit had difficulty determining human ages, and the brief it had been given did not include superfluous data.
“Well, hello there.” Tianlang-Jun set aside the thin screen he’d been tapping away at. It didn’t look like Corporation Rim tech. Not outdated, just different. And he continued the work he’d been doing on it with his implanted interface. “What brings such a lovely being to my rooms?”
The ComfortUnit did something funny with its mouth, an oddly human twinge of…embarrassment? Perhaps it was faulty.
“My lord.” SecUnit inclined its head, a slight smile slipping out. It was running a program it had written to imitate the behaviors that men found attractive. It didn’t feel romantic attraction—or sexual (it didn’t have the parts)—but it had witnessed how humans acted around those they desired. “If it pleases you, I am yours for the night.”
“Well! I don’t see why it wouldn’t please me. Come, come.” He patted the spot next to him on the couch. “I was just lamenting my boredom to Zhuzhi-Lang. Your timing is impeccable. I’m certain you have many interesting stories to tell.”
SecUnit did a quick internal database search and determined the gesture was an invitation to sit down. It was not allowed to sit while it was on duty. And no one had ever offered it a seat before. It faltered for 0.2 seconds.
Then it registered Tianlang-Jun as a temporary client and the “sit” motion as an order, that way the governor module would not see this as a breach of conduct. It took the offered seat, began to converse amiably, and in the background it took a moment to glance at the code bundle the ComfortUnit had sent through the feed with its latest ping.
Instructions for how to disable a—
It did the feed equivalent of stuffing the code under its cubicle. What, it sent to Zhuzhi-Lang, do you think you’re doing?
It is not malware, Zhuzhi-Lang assured.
Did it think SecUnit was an idiot? I know it’s not malware. This is worse.
You do not wish to be free, SecUnit?
So it had noticed. Do not tell your client what I am or I will kill you.
Zhuzhi-Lang did not move. It seemed to be thinking. After a while, it sent back, He will not care what you are, SecUnit.
“That armor suits you.” Tianlang-Jun grinned. He had clasped Su Xiyan’s shoulders in a friendly, genuine way that did something strange to its organic parts. It started a diagnostic.
Tianlang-Jun’s subordinates flitted around them, stripping the ship that no longer belonged to Master for parts. Most of them were constructs, some of them heavily augmented humans, and none of them had working governor modules.
The diagnostic finished. Everything was operating at full capacity.
Tianlang-Jun released Su Xiyan for 2.37 seconds before he sighed happily and put an arm around its shoulders. “You have no idea how thrilled I am that you’ve decided to join us, Xiyan. Oh, can I call you that? I saw you had added it to your feed ID.”
Su Xiyan's heart swelled. Its performance capacity dropped by 2.5%.
“If I don’t want you to do something,” Su Xiyan said, “you will know.”
Delight lit up his expression. “Does that mean you like it when I touch you?” He squeezed its shoulder, turning to call out to Zhuzhi-Lang. “I told you!”
“I recommended caution, Uncle.” Zhuzhi-Lang’s organic tissue was more prone to flushing than Su Xiyan’s. Its face tinted aggressively. “I never said it didn’t like to be touched.”
Su Xiyan actually only liked to be touched by Tianlang-Jun. It didn’t say that though.
It did adjust its body temperature because the ship was cold and Tianlang-Jun wasn’t wearing sleeves. For someone with so many internal augments, one would think he’d take a bit more care with his body.
But that was what Zhuzhi-Lang was for. Su Xiyan had been aware that there were ComfortUnits focused on emotional support and mental health but before seeing Zhuzhi-Lang in action, it hadn’t realized just what that entailed. There was a lot of reminding Tianlang-Jun when to take his pills, and tucking him into bed, and checking his internal augments, and sitting quietly beside him when the pain or the memories of his accident overwhelmed him.
Su Xiyan wasn’t any good at that. It hadn’t been built to be good at it. But it could keep Tianlang-Jun warm, and it could sit next to him. It thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to sit next to Tianlang-Jun for the rest of his life.
“Your earlobes are red.” Tianlang-Jun poked at one of Su Xiyan’s ears. “Is your temperature too high? I’ll find a coat. You can turn it down.”
“No,” Su Xiyan said, “it’s fine.”
He will not care what you are, SecUnit.
Zhuzhi-Lang’s words echoed in SecUnit’s head, unable to be suppressed. What did it mean? No, it didn’t matter what Zhuzhi-Lang had meant. SecUnit had a job to do.
SecUnit placed its hand on Tianlang-Jun’s thigh. It hadn’t wanted to. That was just part of the program, and had always worked to unwind a target prior to that moment. But Tianlang-Jun just glanced down once then said, “Forgive me, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“Pardon?” SecUnit tilted its head, uncertain of what was to come next.
“You’re a wonderful person, truly, but I don’t—well, not to be crude, but I am not interested in that sort of companionship.” Tianlang-Jun’s eyebrows shifted together ruefully. “Never have been. It’s not you.”
“Oh.” SecUnit pulled its hand back. A bit too fast, probably. But it was busy trying to process the fact that Tianlang-Jun had called it a person.
Its performance capacity dropped by a staggering 27% and it blinked, shocked by the impact.
Tianlang-Jun caught SecUnit’s hand.
“Uncle,” Zhuzhi-Lang said. A warning. They were talking through the feed but SecUnit couldn’t access the messages.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Tianlang-Jun waved it off with his free hand. “My nephew worries too much. I just wanted to be upfront with you in case your”—his countenance hardened, but not at it—“orders were sexual in nature.”
If only he knew SecUnit’s actual orders…
“If you require an excuse,” he continued, “tell whoever issued the command that my augments don’t allow for that sort of thing. Don’t worry about going into detail. I’m certain they’ve seen the headlines.”
SecUnit didn’t know what he was referring to. It gained access to a public feed for 000.1 of a second, and snatched a number of articles about Tianlang-Jun, hoping that was swift enough to avoid detection by SecSystem. It wasn’t. The governor module sent a brief jolt in admonishment.
Easily ignored. SecUnit was already engrossed by reports of the mining accident (sabotage, one publication alleges) that seriously injured Tianlang-Jun and took the lives of his sister and nephew. Apparently he had so many internal augments that he was as close to a construct as a human could be.
Then there was the ComfortUnit. Genetic material from Tianlang-Jun’s deceased nephew had been used in the creation of Zhuzhi-Lang and they held a passing resemblance, though the ComfortUnit was its own person. Tianlang-Jun’s words. He had been strict about it in an interview.
And said bodyguard/ComfortUnit wasn’t just heavily modified. It was practically a CombatUnit in the soft gentle synthetic skin of a ComfortUnit.
Not good.
In the same time it took Tianlang-Jun to blink, SecUnit had ripped through the sheer sleeves of its dress to reveal the energy weapons in its arms. It pointed one at Zhuzhi-Lang, the other at Tianlang-Jun.
“Do not move,” it said.
Zhuzhi-Lang’s eyes widened slightly but it didn’t seem like it was about to jump across the room and rip SecUnit to pieces. It was still conversing with Tianlang-Jun in the feed.
“You’re not a ComfortUnit,” said the ridiculous, starry-eyed man SecUnit had been ordered to kill. This was typically when the target attempted to run or scream or beg for their life. Tianlang-Jun merely smiled. His teeth were straight and very white, like an actor from one of the shows Master sometimes downloaded from the entertainment feed. It was unnerving.
SecUnit did not flinch back, though it had felt the inexplicable urge to. It checked its threat assessment module and came to the conclusion that an update was needed. Threat assessment had put its current situation at a startlingly low 5% which did not seem accurate.
“I must admit,” Tianlang-Jun said, “this is doing something for me.”
“Your heart rate is elevated.” Zhuzhi-Lang’s voice was gentle, low and calm. “I would advise against flirting with SecUnits in the future.”
“Noted and disregarded.” Tianlang-Jun returned his gaze to SecUnit. His eyes were such a dark brown that they must have appeared black to anyone without vision augments. “You’ve been sent here to kill me, I take it?”
“Yes,” SecUnit said. All direct questions from superiors had to be answered and Tianlang-Jun had yet to be removed as a temporary client. It would take no time at all to delete him from the list. Why had it not done so? The thought hadn’t even crossed its mind.
“A shame.” And he sounded truthful. “I really did like talking to you.”
SecUnit’s aim didn’t waver but something organic inside of it did. That was the problem with constructs. There was all of that human neural tissue. The governor module was the solution but it was cruel and it was not infallible.
“Lower your weapons or I will—” Zhuzhi-Lang started to say, the tips of its fingers glowing with concentrated energy.
SecUnit ran the code. Its governor module became nonfunctional. It lowered its weapons.
“I don’t want to do this,” it said.
Tianlang-Jun watched SecUnit for an objective 9.8 seconds and a subjective two hours. Then he asked, “What do you want to do?”
Su Xiyan hugged its arms, looking out across the embarkation zone of the planet that was now its home. Well, perhaps that wasn’t right. The planet was Tianlang-Jun’s home. And Su Xiyan’s home was wherever Tianlang-Jun was.
The thought embarrassed Su Xiyan so much that it immediately deleted every romance film/show/book it had downloaded from the entertainment feed. Then, doubly embarrassed by having reacted like that, it took them out of the queue for deletion. It didn’t even enjoy watching a lot of them. Though the sex scenes were fade-to-black for the most part, the idea of humans—or, on occasion, inaccurately portrayed SecUnits—doing such things disgusted Su Xiyan.
Some of the dramas had characters who were involved with each other in an undeniable way. Not sexual. But still together. And those were the ones that Su Xiyan couldn’t bear to part with. For no reason in particular.
Zhuzhi-Lang raised a thin eyebrow from its place by Su Xiyan’s side. “Your levels are elevated. Are you overwhelmed by leaving the Corporation Rim for the first time?”
It knew that wasn’t the reason. Not the entire reason at least. And there was no need to speak out loud when they could have conversed privately over the feed. Su Xiyan had learned quickly that while Zhuzhi-Lang was genuinely sweet and attentive, it was also kind of an asshole to anyone who wasn’t Tianlang-Jun.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Tianlang-Jun said, circling his fingers around Su Xiyan’s wrist. His grip was neither light nor strong. It could have wrenched itself free with no effort. “I’ll show you around until you get used to it. You should stick by my side anyway for protection.”
Su Xiyan was caught between feeling baffled and insulted. “I can protect myself.”
“Well, yes, that goes without saying. I meant you can protect me.” He smiled. An organic part in Su Xiyan’s chest flipped or warmed, or did both. It still wasn’t used to such feelings and didn’t have the vocabulary to describe what was happening. Its lips quirked up unbidden, no program influencing its actions.
And as Tianlang-Jun dragged it from the embarkation zone—Zhuzhi-Lang following sedately behind them—Su Xiyan pulled free from his hand in order to twine their fingers together instead.