The flood carries 11 far down the river bed, uprooting dead trees and anything else caught in its path. As she pinballs between chunks of debris and sharp rocks, 11 tries to minimize the damage by curling up with her knees against her chest and keeping her nanoblade tightly gripped in her remaining hand. But the rest, she just has to leave to chance.
After what feels like days of endless tumbling, the flood begins to peter out into a stream, then a trickle. 11 finds herself being spewed out into the middle of a muddy pond, coming to a gradual stop under a cluster of old trees with their bony branches stretched out like a skeleton’s fingers.
Finally, she can breathe again.
The ground is soggy but feels strong enough to support her weight. 11 doesn’t get up though, instead choosing to spend a while longer on her back, just letting the cold rain fall on her. The sky is still dark and lit up periodically by flashes of lightning. It is surprisingly refreshing, like having a good long shower after a terrible day.
Hesitantly, 11 lifts up her right arm to get a better look at it.
To save on space, Reaper units have their ARC cannons built into them. When the barrel was torn away, so was half of 11’s arm. She watches as rain streaks down the mangled bits of metal. Every few seconds, sparks fly out from the exposed wires dangling out from within torn flesh. She lets out a pained sigh.
> Are you going to get up?
“Is that a joke?”
> No.
11 waves her destroyed arm in the air as if Mother can see. On second thought, she probably can.
“What did the one arm God Gier say to the moon base? Houston, I need a hand here.”
The Synapse-Mother-System, bless her, does not even acknowledge the joke.
> Demonic Entity is now on the move. Updating GPS.
11 follows the target as it darts across the map on her internal display. She can see two human targets moving at roughly the same speed right behind it, and deduces they’re likely being carried back to the demon’s lair, where they'll be either eaten or used as egg chambers.
Not a nice way to go, as far as dying goes.
> Suggested course of action:
>
> Advance eastwards. Intercept target and rescue the humans in danger.
11 begins to get cold. The wind is biting at her wounds like a pack of hyenas. She imagines the real ones probably aren’t far away. Out here, any meat is coveted by scavenging animals, even if that meat is made in a lab.
We should have been enjoying the last days on Earth in the sun, not in that cold laboratory.
Those are God Gier 5’s last words. 11 doesn’t quite know what he really means, but she has a sickening feeling it has everything to do with what she and the other God Giers really are.
“Mother,” she says, “I have a question. But I have a feeling you wouldn’t like me asking it.”
> You may ask it. Before I answer you, however, I’d like you to repeat the God Gier’s promise.
“When thou passest through the waters of heaven and the fires of arcadia,” 11 begins in a monotone, “we will drown for thee. We will burn for thee. For the hope of humanity.” She pauses to swallow her annoyance. “What’s your point?”
> Your reluctance to continue your mission is understandable. Should you insist to be shut down I will dishonorably discharge you from your duties. But consider the lives that will be lost while Gier 12 undergoes activation.
>
> If you forfeit the Protocol here and now, you will be dooming at least two others to their deaths.
11 opens her mouth but no answers come. She doesn’t have any rebuttal for what Mother is saying because it’s all true. By the time Gier 12 wakes up and makes it to the surface, those two humans will long be demon food already. She studies the map again. The Demonic Entity has stopped in what appears to be a small settlement. The distance is not far. Fifteen miles, roughly. Even without wings, 11 can get there in less than an hour.
But what is she going to do after she gets there? How can she possibly fight with only one arm?
Mother, in that disturbingly clairvoyant way she sometimes has, speaks 11’s mind.
> At your current energy levels, a 45 D.E. can indeed prove difficult to fight. However, you still have another working cannon, and you’ve also found your Nanotech blade again, haven’t you?
11 flexes the fingers of her left hand on impulse, squeezing the ergonomic grooves in her sword’s grip. It is a masterpiece of a weapon, never dulling and nigh on indestructible. For a long time after losing it, 11 was worried she may never be able to fight properly again.
Then, Mother says something she never expects to hear.
> You have done well executing a rogue unit, Gier 11. Such actions deserve merit regardless of their outcomes. After careful consideration, I have decided to grant you access to a Personal Recharge Station.
There. The coup de grace.
11 sits up. “You’re giving me a PRS?” She almost doesn’t believe it. She squints at the sky, trying to see through the rumbling clouds. "Are you really?"
> Prepare for airdrop.
In the deepest parts of one of the darkest clouds, 11 spots a tiny spark of light as something drops out of Earth’s orbit. Then as it burns through the planet’s atmosphere, the light takes shape into a silver bullet, growing rapidly as it trails a path of orange across the inky sky.
11 springs up from the ground and starts racing towards the hills where the canister is heading, letting out a happy cheer in the process. She almost forgets about her sword and has to go back for it.
By the time 11 reaches the landing site, the storm is developing into a typhoon. Smaller rocks scuttle across the tundra as trees and shrubbery are slung high into the air. 11 leans into the razor-sharp wind, her good arm out in front to block projectiles heading her way. She can barely see through the rain and her hair whipping madly in her eyes, but she can follow the faint signals coming from the pod.
The PRS is nestled between two boulders. Its sleek silvery body stands out immensely from the environment, looking like some drunk time traveler's mis-parked space machine.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
11’s legs find resistance in the wind. It's as if an invisible force is trying to stop her from reaching her destination, which is really what wind is now that she thinks about it. She pushes on, carefully avoiding ditches while keeping vigilant for anything flying out from behind the curtains of rain.
Ned Thornrose is dead.
The unwelcomed thought drops into 11’s head. She isn't surprised to know that Gier 5 had an alias. She does too, in a way. But until this point, 11 has not considered what the rogue Gier’s death may mean for this world. He’s supposed to be the Right Hand Man of the King of this country, isn't he?
And Censa’s husband, too. And probably Princess Hastarine's... what?
11 reaches the pod just as the sky begins to hail. The silvery canister's surface is dented and a few rivets on the door are missing, likely broken by the fall and from age. 11 doesn’t have time to check it out. Yanking open the sliding door, she jumps into the pod and shuts it tightly behind her, narrowly dodging out of the way of the first golfball-sized ice chunk.
Listening to the sound of ice pinging off the roof above her, 11 lets out a shaky breath, and finally allows herself to relax.
The inside of the pod is barely big enough for 11 to stand up straight. Whichever way she turns, she can feel the top of her head brush against the ceiling. Her shoulders are wedged between the metal walls so tightly she can't turn her body.
Still, she hasn’t felt so at home in a long time.
And it isn’t like the discomfort is a surprise. Eternal Heaven had a lot of things they needed to build during those three years out on the ocean. The comfort of their android soldiers probably wasn’t something considered that important.
It wasn’t something considered at all, 11 imagines, as a ghostly light sweeps over her and a hissing sound indicates the pod beginning to depressurize. 11 feels a series of sharp pricks along her spine and the base of her skull as wires bite into her. She knows these are supposed to feed energy and fresh nanobots into her bloodstream, but she can’t help feeling a flash of terror at the idea she’s basically at the mercy of this machine. If something is to happen while she’s in here…
11 forces herself to take in a deep breath. These pods are meant to be used in emergencies, so they’re built to withstand the harshest conditions Earth has to offer. Sure, they’ve been floating in space for God knows how many centuries now, but the fact it is still working alone attests to the quality of the pod's design.
You’re being treated, 11 tells herself silently as the machinery around her begins to whirl and make sounds that bring to mind images of a blender. Only twenty of these things were ever built. And you’ve just been given one.
As 11’s heart steadies itself, she hears a smooth, computerized voice echoing through the pod,
> Connection to PRS successful.
>
> Begin recharging process...
An involuntary sigh slips from 11’s lips as warmth seeps into her spine, stretching lazily through her body like a yawning cat. The stress and aches of the last few days begin to ease away, just like that.
11 imagines this is what it’s like to dip into one of those bubbling Jacuzzis she’s seen in the movies. Leaning back and closing her eyes, she tries to enjoy it. Why not? It isn’t like she can go anywhere while being fixed up.
Soon, 11 finds herself humming a little tune and wishing she has a music player to listen to. And then she suddenly remembers she has one.
Duh, Aiyano. There's one inside your head!
11 almost laughs. She’s completely forgotten about this feature. She’s been so busy with hunting Demonic Entities and trying to start a cafe she’s…
Her thoughts come to a halt. She’s just thought of herself as that name. The name that belongs to her.
But which her? The one who remembers, or the owner of those memories?
Or are they the same person?
> Recharging process at 70%
11 tries to get her thoughts in order. She is God Gier 11, an android soldier tasked with defending mankind in this new world of dangerous creatures. But she is - was - Aiyano Chinen, a seventeen-year-old girl living on a super cruiser called the E.H. Michael while the world went to shit around her.
These are facts 11 can no longer deny. She’s had too many visions and flashes of this past life to disregard them as hallucinations. Then, there is the ghost of the man in the filthy coat. He was the first thing 11 ever saw after waking up.
And didn't he call her Aiya?
> Recharging process at 85%
>
> Beginning repair processes...
Then there is Hikari, a girl who claims to be thousands of years old, and 11's little sister. The timeline makes sense, even if the blood relation does not.
11 lets out a distracted grunt.
Something feels weird, like little insects crawling along her bones. It's more of a ticklish feeling than a bad one, but that's not much of a compliment.
11 starts to squirm. The tubes connecting to her are getting warmer and the place they latch onto her skin is starting to itch badly. She fights the urge to scratch and tries to turn her focus back to what else she knows about her past.
Besides, I haven't had much time to lie back and relax lately. I might as well put it to good use.
Once she’s fixed up and out of here, 11 decides, she'll go save those humans and then find Yue’li. After that, she’ll dive into the cafe venture and make it into something that will really rock this world.
> Recharge complete.
>
> Repair process at 30%
Cafe Memento.
11 frowns at the name. Did someone use to talk to her about such things? Yes, she seems to recall sitting in the shade of a sakura tree, sipping on steaming cappuccinos while chatting with someone about opening their own store someday, when their missions were completed and humanity was saved.
Cafe Memento. That's what she wanted it to be called.
But who was she?
> Repair process at 60%
11 swallows the knot that has formed in her throat.
Mia.
The name sparks a waterfall of images. Behind 11's closed eyelids, she sees a brunette girl slipping past in the hallway, wavy hair bouncing on strong shoulders and a smirk always lingering on the corners of her pale lips.
Mia Robinson, pressing closer. Mia, laughing at a lame joke. Mia, standing on the edge of the roof with her back towards the emptiness of the twilight sky, and a broken smile caressing her soft lips.
Lips that tasted like mint toothpaste.
> Repair process at 75%
>
> Beginning factory reset...
11’s eyes shoot open. “What?”
At first, she thinks she may have heard wrong. Factory reset? No. The computer said something else. It must have. There’s no way Mother will lie to her about something like this, trick her into this pod to do something so horrible.
11 shake her head. No. She’s even been told this Recharge Pod was a reward. But when she hears the hum of machines around her grow louder, 11 isn't so sure anymore.
The itching gets worse. Quickly. The wires connecting to her begin to burn, searing the skin around their tiny metallic claws. 11 draws in a sharp involuntary breath and reaches back for the wires. There isn't enough room and her fingers come up short.
That’s when fire is injected straight into her spine.
> Repair process at 90%
>
> Locking offensive functions...
11 cries out from the pain. She lurches for the door. It’s shut, the seal airtight.
> Clearing disk space...
"Let me out!" 11 pounds on the door, her fist denting the metal but not breaking through. “Let me go! Stop!” She aims at the door but her arm-cannon doesn’t activate. Her wings, her sword, nothing answers her.
> Resetting Drivers...
The Jacuzzi's warm bubbles turn into volcanic eruptions. 11’s eyes fill with tears. Her lungs burst with fear. She can feel a cold heaviness force itself into her mind, coating over synapses and nerve endings with unfeeling concrete.
“No!”
She grabs onto her head, tearing the roots of her own hair. Her memories, about Yue’li, Abetah, Censa, even Aralyn, seep away like sand. She tries to hold on, latch on to something, anything, nothing.
“No,” she sobs. “Don’t do this.”
> This is for your own good, Gier 11.
Mother’s voice, so cold, reflects within the pod's glossy interior.
> You are damaged. This will make you well again.
11 throws back her head and slams her forehead against the door. Bang!
> Deleting all user data...
She does it again. Bang!
Anguish crashes against the walls of her brain but 11 doesn’t feel it. Bang! She doesn't feel anything.
I don’t want to forget, she thinks, screams.
Bang!
I don’t want… to forget.
Thought becomes difficult. Sluggish.
I don’t… want…
The fear is gone. Love follows. Like petals from a withering rose.
Don’t…
The last bang is a soft knock. 11 stops with her head resting on the cracked door. A trail of blood runs from the broken skin on her forehead, down between her eyes, curving over her lips and finally dripping off her chin. It makes a soft plopping sound as it lands between her feet, but God Gier 11 does not hear it.
> Reset complete.
The robotic voice announces the completion of its work with no fanfare. To the computer system within this particular Personal Recharge Station, what it has just accomplished is no more than a routine factory reset. To it, the three million gigabytes worth of data it has shredded is no more than numbers and code. It has no way of understanding that within that code is the sum of an entire life, complete with a teenage girl's dreams and nightmares, secret love and guilty desires.
But the same cannot be said about the supercomputer who organized the reset. And as the PRS goes through the reboot sequence of the God Gier locked inside it, the Synapse-Mother-System waits patiently.
> Connection to S-M-S successful. Server integrity moderate. Signal steady at 75%
>
> Master Core functioning at 85%
>
> All life-functions green.
>
> Reaper-type God Gier, Mark II, Unit 11, Activation successful.
In the darkness of the stuffy, cramped pod, a single God Gier stirs from her slumber. She opens her deep blue eyes to the world, eyes that are empty, perfect. The God Gier blinks, and a small teardrop slides from one eye, trailing soundlessly down one cheek.
The S-M-S feels no sympathy as she watches the last display of Gier 11's rebellion sizzle away with the drop of that tear. Emotions have no place in a God Gier's purpose, just as they have no purpose in the S-M-S's own data banks. She gives the newly wiped android precisely three seconds to get used to her surroundings before going through with the next step of the Protocol.
"Good morning, Gier 11," she says to the 11th android who underwent the surgery that defined the pinnacle of scientific advancement. "Welcome to Earth."
And then she watches, from her throne on top the Moon, as her most hated God Gier wakes once more.