Sun had been acting strange, and I hated that I recognized that. This was still the girl who had blackmailed me—the girl who had used her power and social standing to manipulate me into helping her save her own skin. I shouldn't have cared that she was clearly off-kilter when we met at the base for another one of her "training sessions."
But I did.
My eyes continuously darted over my shoulder, taking in her form at the furthest reaches of my vision, not wanting to turn fully toward her and give myself up. After spending five nights together, I was fully used to her presence and the way she lingered at the edges of my consciousness as I tried to focus on whatever menial task I had assigned myself. Today, it was fiddling with an early-alert system I had begun to design in hopes of warning pilots when they were going to fully drain their companions.
It had nothing to do with Sun's presence. It probably wouldn't work, anyway.
Still, I kept stealing glances behind me, checking on her. Her small form, hunched over in the pilot's seat, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, had become familiar. Smudges of pale makeup covered her skin in all of the places where the probes were attached. If I watched for long enough, I could see the darkness of new bruising breaking up the makeup each night as she aggravating the same small wounds. Her placement had gotten better. An untrained eye wouldn't have been able to distinguish her from a real, active companion.
Which she would be, I supposed, before too long.
As I sat on one of the work benches, trying to force myself to focus, a sound jolted me out of my concentration. I immediately turned over my shoulder, looking toward Sun. Realizing that she was still motionless, locked in the thralls of the machine and whatever mental hellscape it conjured for pilots, I quickly lurched to my feet. The garage was quiet now, as it should have been, but the memory of the noise prickled uncomfortably along my spine.
Checking one more time to make absolutely sure that Sun was alright and hadn't caused the shuffling sound herself, I turned toward the open garage doors. Grabbing the huge wrench that I had once used to threaten Sun, I crept toward the opening. Sweat built along my hairline, sticking the ends of my short hair to my forehead.
What kind of trouble would I get for being discovered in such a position? Would they assume that I had forcibly hooked Sun up to the bot? Would I be blamed for trying to drain and kill an innocent founder girl? Would there even be a trial for such a crime, or would they just make me disappear like enemies of the founders so often did?
Damn. I knew from the beginning this girl was going to get me killed.
Raising my wrench next to my head, ready to swing it like a bat, I inched toward the open doorway. My jaw clenched tightly, I grabbed the threshold with one hand and slowly, slowly, leaned forward to peer into the hall.
At first, I couldn't even wrap my mind around the person standing before me. It felt so normal and so off all at the same time. Quickly, though, reality rushed back in, and relief settled in snuggly next to my concern.
"Fio," I breathed, lowering the wrench.
His brew drew together as he looked me over. "Fern? What... are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" I asked, hoping to set him off on one of his long-winded explanations that would lead to him forgetting what we were talking about in the first place.
The response I got, though, was much better.
Fio swayed, slapping his hand to the wall to balance himself as he stared at me. "I, uh... was out drinking, and I, mmm, I remembered I left my jacket in here. So, I... flew over to ch-check."
