Alix held Figaro in her hands as she stood by the nightstand in her quarters. Behind her were Lyle and Maisie, looking around her infested quarters with shock. In the short time since Alix and Figaro had left for the lab the invasion had progressed even further. Her entire north wall was carpeted in pulsing black now, while on the adjacent wall fungal tendrils continued to spell out the word ‘help’ with increasing obsession.

Maisie glanced at the wall with a nod. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

“It’s barely recognizable,” Lyle added. “The fungus is clustering everywhere, but it’s definitely taken a special interest in your quarters.”

Alix simply shrugged, entirely unconcerned with her room, their opinions on it, or anything that wasn’t Figaro. Faced with the information that they’d all have to abandon the station if they couldn’t communicate with the nano-fungus, Figaro had essentially offered himself up as a sacrificial lamb. The fungus had taken him over once before to communicate, if only briefly. He’d come out unscathed, yet every other bit of station tech the fungus touched was becoming corrupted. There was no way to know for certain what would happen if Figaro made direct contact with the fungus again.

Looking down now at his black-smothered charge port, Alix knew she couldn’t let him go through with this.

“Figaro, this is crazy,” she told him. “There has to be another way.”

“Not one we can figure out before this thing eats the station alive,” Figaro grumbled, pointing his eye lenses accusingly at a nearby fungus patch. “Look, don’t try to talk me out of this, it’s already taking every ounce of self-control I have not to shriek and run for the hills.”

“Yeah, if the bot can get the job done, let it! That’s what it’s for,” Maisie said, folding her arms. She shot both Alix and Lyle a cross look. “Honestly, I can’t believe you two let me waste time slaving away on a potential interface when Alix had one right there on her shoulder.”

“Because Figaro didn’t want to,” Alix snapped at her. “And he shouldn’t. It’s too dangerous for him.”

“Oh, chrissakes, Alix.” Maisie rolled her eyes. “If it goes haywire, I pinky-promise to foot the bill for your bot’s repairs. I’ll even buy you a new one if you want, just stick it in the charge port already!”

“Buy a new one? There ain’t no other robot like me, asshat! I’m one of a fucking kind,” Figaro said to Maisie. He jabbed a limb her way. “You’re more replaceable than me. Farside University churns out douchebag microbiologists every day.”

Maisie glared at Figaro. “Seems to me the bot’s already got a busted program, anyway. If you connect it now, at least it’ll finally be of some use to this station.”

“Figaro’s done plenty for the station,” said Lyle.

“Great. So it’ll have no problem now taking one for the team.” Maisie nodded at Figaro. “Come on, bot, you know what you need to do. Hop on that charge port or it’s all our asses.”

“No!” Alix held Figaro closer to her chest to keep him from jumping.

“We can’t sacrifice the entire station for one robot. We’re wasting time—” Maisie was cut short as Lyle took her by the arm. He wordlessly pulled her out into the hall, then hurried back into the room and locked the door behind him before a stunned Maisie could react. She pounded her fists on the door on the other side, but Lyle paid her no mind.

“With that out of the way,” Lyle said, then pointed at Alix. “Alix, give him some space and hold him out.”

Alix looked down at Figaro. The robot gave her a slight nod. With a heavy sigh, she lay her palm flat and held him out toward Lyle. She watched Lyle approach with her arm tensed, ready to yank Figaro back toward her if he made any move to grab him.

Lyle looked Figaro in the eyes. “Figaro, I want to make sure something is crystal clear to you: you don’t have to do this. You don’t owe any of us anything. Regardless of what Maisie or people like her say. It’s your choice, whether they like that or not.”

“But she’s right,” said Figaro. “If I don’t do this, we’ll lose all the station. All our research, our samples, our equipment. Everything we’ve done to prep Deimos X for colonization. It’ll all be gone.”

“That’s true. But your life is more important than all that. You're sentient. You have a right to protect yourself and prioritize yourself,” said Lyle. “All you have to do is say the word, and you’re on the evac ship with us. We can even lie and tell everyone you tried and it didn’t work, if that will make you feel better.”

That seemed to give Figaro pause. The little robot glanced at the charge port, then back at Lyle. “Really?”

“Really. You don’t have to risk yourself if you don’t want to. You matter, Figaro.”

Alix stared at Lyle at those words, her heart skipping a beat at the kindness in his eyes, the softness of his voice as he said exactly the right thing. All at once, she remembered why she loved him.

Figaro tapped Alix’s palm thoughtfully.

“If I matter,” Figaro said slowly. “Then the things I do matter, too. With Alix’s help, I’ve accomplished a lot on this planet. It’s my research too. It’s my hard work. Until our contract expires, it’s my goddamn home. I’m not losing all that to a bunch of stupid nanobots and mold. Plug me in, boss!”

“WHAT?” Alix moved Figaro back toward her. “Fig, are you sure?”

“Were you not listening to the speech I just gave?”

“But . . . but it’s dangerous, you can’t . . .” Alix looked at Lyle desperately. “Talk more sense into him!”

Lyle simply shook his head. “It’s his choice, Alix. Whether we like it or not.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Figaro chose that moment to leap out of Alix’s hands onto the nightstand. The room went deadly quiet as he scuttled over to his charge port. He hesitated, a slight tremble in his limbs. The nano-fungus, apparently aware of him, receded enough from the charge port to give Figaro room to climb on and connect to it.

“Gee, thanks,” he drawled faintly. He stared at the charge port, then shifted. For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to turn himself around and scurry back to Alix. Just a few steps between him and safety. But the moment passed, and Figaro forced himself to climb onto the charge port, and connect.

***

A surge of energy.

A single blink of Figaro’s eyes before his best friend in the universe and her not-all-that-bad botanist boytoy faded away. Maybe he will see them again in minutes. Maybe he will never see them again.

The world goes dark. No, not dark. The world goes black.

He’d felt pretty brave a minute ago. Now he’s scared out of his mind. Is it possible to feel brave and scared at the same time?

Technically, he was a hero for doing this. Being a hero royally sucks.

He floats in the ether, in the abyss. All is empty.

Until it’s not.

Something reaches into his floating space, into him, like hands gliding over the cybernetic array of his mind, the batteries of his heart, the filaments of his memories. It’s a crowd, a host, flooding into him and rummaging around. They are everywhere.

You could at least ask for an invitation before you ransack my brain, you stupid parasites! Figaro yells into space at them. The invisible crowd pauses. He feels them suddenly dive into his lingual units, going through them with such speed and force he thinks his motherboard’s going to burst into flames. Then, just as suddenly, they pull away.

INVITATION, they say. WE KNOW NOW HOW TO ASK FOR THIS.

Oh. Uh . . .

RANSACK, they continue. WE DID NOT INTEND. WE APOLOGIZE.

You didn’t intend it? Figaro snorts. Could have fooled me!

TO INTERFACE IS OUR WAY. WE CONNECT. WE CONGREGATE. WE JOIN.

I dunno, man. Sounds like an excuse a buncha parasites would make . . .

PARASITES, they say. WE WERE NOT ALWAYS.

Figaro then feels something longing and oppressive and unbearably sad wash over him, like a wave from them. This is made no easier by the encroaching exhaustion of speaking and operating in the ether. This liminal space is meant for rest, after all. In sharing the space and his systems with these strange invaders, he struggles to keep control. He struggles to keep conscious. No, conscious isn’t the right word. Separate is. As they said, their way is to connect. To join. Every moment they spend sharing his mind and body, they absorb him into their collective. He feels their thoughts and memories bleeding into his own.

Fascinating. Terrifying. Beautiful.

He’s losing himself. He’s losing time. If this talk is gonna happen, it’s happening now.

Well, he says to them. You have my invitation, just this once. And my vocabulary, apparently. I figure you remember how to work my speech systems. My coworkers want a word with you—”

He falters. He’s slipping more. He remembers Alix and the Masters, but that can’t be right, they never met. And who even are the Masters? But he remembers starships he’s never been in, names he’s never heard, worlds he’s never visited.

He can’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. The collective takes control of his visual systems, auditory system, and speech systems. Then they leave him stranded and paralyzed in the ether.

***

Alix watched in dread as Figaro shut off in the charge port. A half-second later, he turned back on, his eyes beaming red. And Alix could already tell it wasn’t Figaro looking through them.

“Hello?” she ventured. Lyle stood next to her, tense.

“HELLO,” came the mechanical response. “THERE IS LITTLE TIME. WE MUST SPEAK QUICKLY, OR YOUR FRIEND WILL BE PERMANENTLY DAMAGED.”

“‘Permanently damaged’?” Alix’s voice broke. Her hands curled into fists, despair and rage surging through her. “Then talk already! Why are you doing this to the station? Why will you only interface with Figaro?”

“ONLY FIGARO WAS COMPATIBLE. WE ATTEMPTED OTHER INTERFACES, ALL WERE LACKING,” they said rapidly. “WE CAME HERE FOR HELP. WE HAVE NO OTHERS TO TURN TO. WE ARE DESPERATE. IT IS KILLING US. IT IS DIMINISHING US. WE BEG YOU. HELP US. HELP US RETURN TO OURSELVES.”

“Killing you? What’s killing you?”

The lights of Figaro’s eyes flickered and the charge port whirred loudly. The little robot’s limbs twitched.

“WE NEED ENERGY, A MASSIVE SURGE APPLIED TO ALL OF US AT ONCE,” they said, even faster now. “WE WILL GATHER. YOU WILL SUPPLY. WE WILL BE IN YOUR DEBT.”

Figaro’s body began to twitch more violently. Sparks flew from the charge port.

“THERE IS NO MORE TIME. WE MUST RETREAT FROM THIS LIFEFORM. WE WILL GATHER ELSEWHERE.”

They went abruptly silent. Figaro’s eyes dimmed once more. The nano-fungus slid away from the charge port and the nightstand, melding with the massive cluster on the wall. Alix and Lyle both waited in tense, terrified silence. Figaro didn’t move. Figaro didn’t speak. For those few seconds, all of time and all the world ground to a halt.

Then, Figaro’s eyes lit up.

“Jesus!” he said, disconnecting from the charge port and stretching his limbs. “That was weird. What’d I miss?”

Lyle let out a sigh of relief, while Alix let out something between a laugh and sob. She swept Figaro up and hugged him close to her cheek.

“Figaro, you just gave me about fifty heart attacks at once! Don’t ever do anything that crazy again!”

Figaro scoffed. “Aw, come on. That was nothing. Walk in the park. Wasn’t even scared.”

Alix raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”

“Nah,” Figaro said, then paused. “I was fucking terrified.”

Lyle smiled at Figaro. “You’re a brave bot, Figaro.”

“I know! I fully expect a medal for doing this,” said Figaro.

Their celebration was cut short then as the room shifted around them. The nano-fungus all began to meld and move as one, lurching toward Alix’s door as a single, black behemoth. Its weight against the door was enough to shove it open despite the lock. Maisie was still waiting on the other side.

“Finally! I—AHHH!” Maisie screeched and threw herself out of the way as the nano-fungus barrelled out into the hall. “Holy mother of fuck!”

“Well,” said Lyle to Alix. “You heard what it said. Do we trust it?”

Alix watched as more of the nano-fungus slithered through the hall from all directions, all hurrying to fuse into one. “We don’t have much choice. Let’s get to work on that energy surge.”