Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I came online before my recharge cycle had time to complete. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and none of the humans were up. I couldn’t figure out why my threat assessment had spiked, but then I heard the faint jingling that had woken me.

Oh. It was Ratthi’s pet fauna, playing on its enormous “cat tree” just outside his guest room.

The jingling grew frantic and changed rhythm, and then the fauna let out a plaintive yowl.

I was out of bed and out in the living room before it could finish making the (admittedly long-winded and dramatic) noise. Its foot appeared to be attached to the dangling toy hanging from the underside of one of the platforms. The distressed yowling softened when it saw me, and the creature let out a quiet, mournful mew as I approached.

I was going to have to handle its foot to detach the claw that had gotten stuck. It tugged futilely and looked up at me with enormous amber eyes, and I sighed. “Try not to shred my hand like you did last time, okay?” I said, patting its soft head with one hand and slipping the other toward its caught paw while it was distracted.

Before it could react, I’d freed it and pulled my hand away unscathed. It sat back and licked its foot, ears twitching like it was embarrassed and offended at being handled. “Sorry,” I told it. “I know the feeling.”

I turned around and went back to the guest bedroom and settled in to finish my recharge cycle.

—

Mitsy wasn’t in her usual spot on Ratthi’s bed when he woke up. He peeked out into the living room and, nope, not on the cat tree, either.

But SecUnit’s door was ajar, and when Ratthi tiptoed toward it, there she was: Curled up on SecUnit’s offline form as it went through its recharge cycle. She looked briefly up at him with a “Mrrp?” but promptly snuggled back in.

After the unfortunate clawing incident last time it had stayed over, SecUnit had been convinced Mitsy didn’t like it. Ratthi couldn’t wait to tell it otherwise.

Chapter Text

I climbed into my tent and flopped onto my cot. Based on the position of the drones I’d left with my humans, they were about 1.4 minutes away. I’d made it back to camp just in time to hide—but not in enough time to use a medkit on my ankle without them noticing.

I turned down my pain sensors and sank into my figurative cushion of comfort media. Only a few hours until they’d all be going to their own tents, and I could sneak out and grab a medkit from our communal supplies.

We were in one of Preservation’s many mountainous regions on a four-cycle hike to see a waterfall. (When I asked why they wouldn’t simply take a hopper and go directly to the waterfall, Ratthi looked horrified. He told me there were no vehicles of any sort allowed because it would disturb the local ecology. He’d said that humans weren’t even allowed to visit unless they completed educational modules in conservational best practices and agreed to very strict behaviour guidelines. Apparently, they’d be entering this area ‘at their own risk’ and no vehicular evacuation services would be available.)

So it’s not that I wanted to be there, in the middle of dangerous nowhere with no hope of extraction if things went sideways. I just wasn’t about to let my humans put themselves in harm’s way for some stupid falling water without me around to save them.

So you can imagine my embarrassment when I was scouting ahead on our way back to camp from a side excursion, hopped up onto a rock by the river to get a better vantage point of what threat assessment thought was suspicious movement, lost my footing, and landed so badly that my pain sensors didn’t even kick in immediately. It was like they were just as surprised as I was about being on my ass in the water with my leg bent weird.

The sparse organics in my legs end at my ankles, and even then it’s mostly just connective tissue and tendons. They don’t normally cause problems. They were also clearly built for a ‘normal’ that didn’t include inadvisable maneuvers on uneven terrain. Ugh. (And, okay, fine, I’ll admit that not letting ART complete a full diagnostic after I jumped off that 40-meter platform on my last mission with the PSUMNT crew was probably not my best decision. I am absolutely not telling it about this.)

So. Anyway. I’d managed to limp my way back to camp and I let the humans know the coast was clear over the feed connection I’d set up. They also had shortwave radios, per protocol, because even if rescue/extraction was next to impossible, there were at least experts at the other end to guide them verbally through an emergency. (I had a radio too, but I hadn’t taken it off my belt clip since we first set out.)

My humans tromped back to the campsite right on schedule and made a ruckus as they set about their mealtime tasks. It wasn’t unusual for me to leave the area when they were eating, so they probably wouldn’t be suspicious of my absence for a while. If they asked after me, I’d just tell them I’d had enough nature for the day.

Unfortunately, then the thought occurred to me: What would I do if there was danger between now and my planned maintenance later tonight? My speed and effectiveness with a borked ankle would be greatly reduced. Great.

Okay. I had to ask one of them for help. Ratthi would do it, but he’d worry at me even though I would be perfectly fine after using the medkit. Pin-Lee would be discreet but judgemental. Volescu might be a good choice? He’s pretty lowkey.

Unfortunately, the decision was made for me when Gurathin tapped my feed.

What, I said.

Did you do something to your leg?

Okay, how the hell…? Why?

He sent me an image of the weird, wet footprints I’d made when I climbed out of the river, and the slight drag marks visible in the dust as I entered the camp.

…It’s fine.

He approached my tent and tapped on the side.

“What,” I said, out loud this time.

“Open up before everyone wonders what I’m doing and starts asking questions.”

I rolled my eyes and slid the zipper down a little, peering out suspiciously. I almost got poked in the face with the medkit Gurathin shoved into the opening.

“We’re going to go swimming in the river after dinner,” he said before walking away.

It wasn’t an invitation. But it wasn’t not an invitation. I chose to accept it as a client situation update and, after applying the medkit and letting it work, followed the humans once they were done eating. Rivers are dangerous, after all. I know that firsthand.

Chapter Text

Arada showed up at my door armed with a catalogue of furniture, and Overse had a bundle of paint chips under her arm.

I’d been expecting them, of course, but I still stared for a long few moments. I thought you were kidding, I said.

Catalogues seemed like the kind of thing that could be stored in the feed, not a physical copy. A feed version had to be a lot more cost effective, too, right?

But Arada marched inside and made herself at home on the edge of my bed (the only thing that came stock with quarters on the station; everything else was custom and that’s why they were here), and Overse started laying out paint swatches on the built-in food preparation surface.

It turned out that Arada’s catalogue did sort of have feed functionality—I could scan a code next to each image of furniture, and it would bring up an AR version of it that would place it wherever I wanted it in the room. And I could do it with multiple pieces at once.

Arada left me to that while she and Overse considered colour schemes. Within minutes, after trying almost every furniture configuration that seemed appealing, I landed on the winning combo. I opened a feed space for the three of us and sent the specs for them to look over.

“This is an awful lot of display surfaces,” Arada ventured.

“I know,” I said proudly. “I’m gonna be able to watch so many shows.”

“Do you think maybe a wardrobe and some more chairs would be useful?” Overse gestured in the direction of the kitchen space, which all of us knew I wouldn’t be using. “In case you want to get more hoodies or watch your serials from different angles?”

She wasn’t making fun of me, but she wasn’t not making fun of me either. I stuck my tongue out at her.

“You just want to come over for media nights,” I accused. “Fine. I’ll get you some chairs.”

She grinned. “Maybe another couch?”

“Don’t push your luck.” (I added another couch to the order anyway.)

After I picked out the wall colours and decorations (which I was able to design myself, so I flipped through my media archives and used the colony solicitor’s office in Sanctuary Moon as a reference for the feature wall), we went through flooring, countertops, and things I didn’t even know I had to worry about, like what kinds of doorknobs and drawer handles I wanted.

“Can’t somebody else do this for me?” I muttered as I compared two AR cabinet faces side by side.

“I mean, you could always hire an interior decorator,” Overse said with a shrug.

I dismissed the simulation and stared past her shoulder. “What,” I said flatly.

They looked at each other, an expression passing between them I didn’t care to parse.

“Are you telling me,” I said in the same flat voice, “that I could’ve just paid somebody to make all the decisions we just spent two hours making?”

“Yep,” Arada said. “But would you really trust a stranger with perfectly replicating your favourite Sanctuary Moon set design?”

I sighed. No, no I did not.

When I’d finally made every decision they wanted me to make, we sent the order in, and now all I had to do was wait.

It would take a couple weeks for the furniture to arrive because it was all built by hand. Once it did get here, a crew would come to my place and handle the painting, the set-up, and everything else.

I looked Arada in the eye so she’d know I was serious. “Promise I don’t have to make any more decisions?”

“Promise,” she said.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

---

A few weeks later, I got the notification that my furniture was on its way. When it arrived, the accompanying work crew promised they’d have it all ready for me by the end of the cycle, so I went and spent the day in Mensah’s office. When I returned, my quarters looked just like they had in the AR mockup.

I looked around at all my furniture, my eyes alighting on the bathroom door. Huh—I’d been so focused on putting display surfaces in the main gathering area, I’d totally forgotten to decorate in there.

So much for not having to make any more decisions.

Chapter Text

I know I’ve said this before, but I’m fast. Like, really, really fast. I’ve never met a human who could keep up with me—not even an augmented one. So it would stand to reason that no one would want me to join their speed-based group activities and games, right? Wrong.

Mensah’s children are constantly pushing the boundaries of what I consider to be realistic expectations.

Sure, put Murderbot in a footrace against the juveniles. Sure, start a game of… “tag” with Murderbot being “it.” Isn’t the point of such games to win? Why are they actively sabotaging their own efforts?

It’s not a matter of letting me win something so I feel better about myself—I’ve seen enough media to know what it looks like when a well-intentioned group of humans does that. No, they seemed to genuinely want me to play with them. And from the frustrated groans I got when I went easy on them the first few times, they wanted me going all out. Even if it meant I always came in first place. Even if it meant I tagged one of them almost immediately and was never “it” for the rest of the game. Humans are weird. Juvenile humans are even weirder.

But from the shrieks of laughter that rang out whenever I took off like an energy blast or chased one of them down, they were having fun. And I’ll admit, I was having fun too.

(We eventually came up with a rule for a version of tag wherein every time I tagged someone else, I had to start running backwards and wasn’t allowed to use my drones to watch where I was going. I think I was able to do a convincing job of faking how much that actually slowed me down. Plus the small humans found it hilarious, so I didn’t mind how ridiculous it made me look.)

Chapter Text

It was Overse’s idea to hold a media night to ‘break in’ the new furniture and display surfaces. As if I hadn’t done that already, with five episodes of various serials going on at once while I wandered around and tried each couch, chair, cushion, beanbag thing, and lounge I’d ordered. But I agreed anyway, because that sounded kind of fun, and most of the PresAux survey humans were going to be on the station at once in a week or so. The ones who wouldn’t already be there could easily make the trip from the planet.

Everyone asked what they could bring. I checked my media archives because I had no idea, and settled on telling them to bring their favourite beverages if they wanted, but not to feel obligated.

Also, because it was Overse’s idea, she felt obliged to help me set everything up. I wasn’t about to say no—she and Arada had way more experience entertaining—so I didn’t have a problem when she kind of took over upon arriving.

Pillows were set out and fluffed. Blankets were spread across the backs of couches and chairs. A food area was assembled (I did make her promise to help me clean that up after because ew, food debris). Arada arrived a few minutes later and brought with her a shoe rack and mat for my front door. (I appreciated the thought, but humans taking off their shoes also meant dirty sock smell. I guess I could handle that; I’d just need to adjust my air purifier settings later.)

Ratthi was the first to arrive after Arada and Overse. After depositing his snack contribution at the food area, he stood in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips, staring at the feature wall with a grin on his face. “I was so sad when the colony solicitor’s office blew up in season 4. But now I get to see it whenever I come over here!”

(I hadn’t been intending on having a lot of guests after this occasion, but I guess if Ratthi were here with me once in a while, that would mean fewer opportunities for him to wander into dangerous situations.)

Bharadwaj arrived next and made an ooh noise over the wood finish used on one of the armchairs, then Volescu, Mensah, and Pin-Lee all showed up together and made various other approving noises, which felt nice because I’d picked most of it out myself.

Gurathin arrived last. I opened the door and he pushed a file into my feed, a ‘housewarming’ gift, he said. He looked around after I let him in, and sent an approving-gesture sigil in the feed. (The file was a dynamic digital art thing designed for spaces with multiple displays, so either Arada and Overse told him what to expect or he knew what I was doing. Maybe both.)

And that was everyone. Arada helped me bring out the snacks I’d gotten for the humans to eat while we watched the first film (I could tune out the chewing noises pretty easily so it was whatever), I dimmed the lights, and we all settled in.

It was... comfortable. Especially when I told everyone afterward that it was time to go home, and they all got their things, thanked me for having them over, and then didn’t linger inside my door like they always did at each other’s places.
I think they lingered in the corridor outside to chat with each other, but that was okay. Everyone has different social needs, and I was just glad that they respected mine.

And I’ll admit, I had fun. So much fun that I was already planning another media night, which I would invite them to as soon as I got rid of the dirty sock smell.

Chapter Text

“You want me to accompany you to a festival,” I stated aloud so Ratthi could hear how ridiculous he sounded. “Where it will be dark and crowded and noisy.”

“And there’re fireworks!” Ratthi added.

Right, of course. The recreational explosives. Can’t forget those. (Whatever happened to nice quiet evenings on the couch watching serials?)

He grinned. “You don’t have to go, but we’d love to have you along.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “And if you do come, I’ll win a bet against Pin-Lee and I’ll split the prize with you.”

I smirked. “Unfortunately, you’re too late. She approached me first.”

Chapter Text

“Hey asshole, you’re going to miss your shuttle,” Pin-Lee called from the front door. “I’m going to leave without you if you’re not out here in the next ten seconds.” 

Wow, ten whole seconds? She was feeling generous today. Usually it’s five or less. 

That would be pointless, I said in the house’s local feed. I know you’re coming right back here after you drop me off. 

“Fine! If you’re not here in the next ten seconds then I won’t take you at all, how’s that?” 

Kind of rude, considering I’d done her the favour of looking after her sister’s place in her stead while she attended some emergency meetings on the station. I am currently immobilized. And there’s no need to shout, I have a drone right there. 

“What do you mean, ‘immobilized’?” she said at a much more reasonable volume—but still louder than she needed to be. 

return definition(immobilized): the condition of having been made immobile. the condition of being unable to move. 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Perihelion. I meant, why are you immobilized?” 

Come and see for yourself. Quietly.

She did, swearing and muttering under her breath while her fists clenched at her sides. Then she paused in the entryway to her sister’s living room, where she could plainly see my predicament. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but she eventually settled on cocking her head to the side with a complicated expression on her face. 

“How did you—” 

“I did nothing,” I said softly and evenly. “I was just sitting here.” 

“Yeah, but she—” 

“I know.” 

“Can I take a picture?” 

I’d have sighed, but the motion would have disturbed the small creature currently taking a nap on my lap. Pin-Lee’s shouting had already disturbed it, and it had ceased making the contented rumbling it was making earlier. “...If you must.” 

Moments later, the image dropped into my feed. “Can I send this to my sister?”

I’d prefer if no images of me were distributed ever, but I understood the occasion. And I appreciated that she asked. 

“Yes.” Then, “I think my ten seconds are up.” 

“There’ll be another shuttle,” said Pin-Lee. She continued staring at the fauna and shook her head. “I can’t even get close enough to pet her before she either swats me or runs away. How did you manage it?” 

I shrugged and made an exaggerated “I dunno” expression, and the fauna peeked open an eye and looked up at me as I dropped my gaze to it. It stretched its little limbs, the sharp points of its claws sticking into the fabric of the armchair briefly before it settled into a different napping pose. I upped my body temperature just a little more, and it started rumbling once again.

Chapter Text

The human approaching me looked uncertain, which is usually a precursor to me being asked a question. I usually tried to put off as menacing an aura as possible to deter conversation, but sometimes it just doesn’t work and the humans talk to me anyway. What I didn’t understand was why this person had chosen me, specifically, out of all the travelers in this transit ring. Maybe because I was sitting down with my own travel pack at my feet, and she felt some kind of travelers’ camaraderie or something? (Note to self: look up if that’s a thing. And also don’t loiter in easy-to-reach locations.)

The human stepped into my field of view and did the usual awkward attention-getting ritual of leaning forward and waving a little to catch my eye.

“Um, excuse me, sorry...” she said, and smiled when I finally looked up at her from where I sat. “I was wondering if you could watch my bag while I go to the restroom?”

...That was not the query I had been expecting. I thought maybe she’d request directions to some tourist attraction, or ask if I knew where this or that transport was going.

I realized she was still waiting for an answer. “Uhh... okay,” I said, a moment later than was probably socially acceptable. I wasn’t going to bother asking why—maybe I just exuded ‘security’ even when I wasn’t technically on a job?

Her smile widened and she dumped her bag next to me on the bench. “Thank you so much, I won’t be long.” Then she disappeared into the crowd and I was left alone with her stuff.

I did a quick scan of it just in case, which I really should have done before I agreed, but it seemed to be full of the usual traveling-human things. Clothes. Toiletries. Oh, huh, she’d even left her currency cards in here.

She had no idea who I was, what my intentions were. I could have just walked off and left her stuff. I could have taken her stuff. I mean, I wasn’t going to, but she didn’t know that. Why would she entrust her belongings to a stranger?

I scootched closer to the bag as some humans walked by a little too close for my comfort. Most people wouldn’t be bold enough to steal something out from under someone’s nose, but this also wasn’t Preservation. Pickpockets were not unheard of, and they could be really bold. I’d watched a compilation video of a pickpocket at work once when I was still with the company, and had filed their techniques away for future use just in case. Not that I’ve had occasion to use them. (Except for that one time I snuck Ratthi’s lucky interface out of his pocket before he could send an ill-advised feed message to an ex-partner of his. But that was for the greater good.)

I trained one of my free drones in the direction the human had left—presumably that’s where the restrooms were—and one on her bag. The rest I dispersed into a loose perimeter.

I was glaring at passersby and rehearsing a security lecture in my head when she returned.

“Hey, thank you again,” she said as she retrieved her stuff. “I really appreciate it. I’d better run, I think my transport’s boarding now. Bye!”

And then she was gone.

“Who was that?” Ratthi asked as he sauntered up holding some kind of frozen fruit thing on a stick, the other hand in his pocket.

“Somebody who really needs to learn proper security protocol,” I said. “You ready to go?”

“Actually, could you watch my gear? I have to go use the—uh, why are you looking at me like that?”

I sighed and shook my head, and held out my hand. I might as well accept the inevitable. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Just make it quick, would you?”

Chapter Text

“What the hell is this,” I said, looking down at the potted flora in my hand. It looked like the kind of thing I’d include in a list of planetary hazards to avoid, with big white spikes sticking out from the weird little green protrusion that was the flora itself.

“It’s a cactus,” Pin-Lee replied. Thanks, Pin-Lee, that was very helpful.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“I don’t know, put it on a shelf or something. You’ll know it needs water if it starts showing prominent ridges.”

“You mean I have to care for it, too?” This wasn’t a gift, this was a responsibility in disguise. I didn’t even like flora, and this one looked like a pricked finger waiting to happen. If I’d learned anything from the time I’d spent on Mensah’s farm, it was that growing flora required a lot of upkeep. If I ever wanted to take a longer contract off-station or even out of the system, I’d have to bring it with me, and even I knew a lot of polities frowned on invasive species.

Pin-Lee rolled her eyes. “A little green is good for your mental health, SecUnit. And it’s not even that hard to care for. It’s a desert plant, it can go for months without water if it has to.”

Okay, so as far as flora went, this one wasn’t so difficult to care for. Not that I had any desire to care for it, but Pin-Lee had done a lot for me and hadn’t even let me pay her. So. I guess I could accept this weird choice of a gift if it made her happy.

But I’d also seen desert flora, and plenty of it didn’t have spikes quite like this. I said, “Why’d you give me one that looks so dangerous?”

She grinned, and I realized too late she’d been waiting for me to ask. “To go with your prickly personality, of course.”

I should’ve known I wasn’t getting off that easy.