Some place, somewhere, at some time, someone was changing the natural order of things.

-

Something wasn’t right.

The feeling pricked at her neck, setting her hair on end. It had started as barely the slightest of chills, hardly unnoticeable, but the discomfort had been growing ever since Elster woke up from her calibration pod that morning.

Even now, when she should really be listening to the EULR unit in front of her listing off their maintenance tasks for the day, she was instead distracted by that insistent lingering paranoia that told her there was something off.

Elster was never a fan of intuition. She was an LSTR unit, a Replika of rational thought and stoic professionalism. Her neural pattern was made to approach problems logically. Intuition was not logical. She was being pestered senseless by some primal, irrational remnant in her neural circuitry, even in the absence of any observable issue.

It was beyond irritating. If the primal aspect of her mind was able to divine a fault in her surroundings, she preferred if it could just tell her what it was.

As it was, she was just left incessantly bothered by the awareness that something was not right. Her fingers kept twitching to do something, and she had to resist gripping the stun baton strapped to her waist to calm herself the entire time she walked down the streets of District C. She kept getting the urge to look behind her, even though she had already done so a half-dozen times between the walk from her apartment to her designated maintenance area for the cycle.

There was always nothing there: just the usual ash-covered streets and the crowd of gas-masks-wearing denizens of Rot-Front.

The place looked the same everywhere she went. Grey, smog-covered skies. The obscured sun overhead, a circle of dying red that was barely visible. Gaunt, smoke-belching factories that were built uncomfortably close beside enormously tall, claustrophobic office buildings, whereupon which sat tight alleyways filled with packed ash piles.

Her assigned district looked no different from any other industrialised sector on the rest of the planet. With the place dull and colourless as it was, it would not take much for her to see or sense something out-of-place, but wherever she looked around, there was nothing unusual for her to notice.

So what was it? What was out there that was evoking such a peculiar reaction from her? This maddening sense of, of…

Familiarity?

“Erm, hellooo? Are you still there?”

The sweet, high-pitched voice of the EULR unit in front of her broke Elster out of her reverie. The EULR unit was even waving her hand in front of her face, which she had somehow failed to notice. Elster inwardly berated herself as she struggled to control the rush of heat creeping up her neck.

Stupid, stupid. What was she thinking, getting lost in vague paranoia while on a job? Being troubled by so much over such a nebulous feeling; it was ridiculous.

“You looked like you were lost in thought,” the Eule giggled, so carefree and cheerful, as her type was wont to be. Elster wondered how anyone could be so happy all the time in the lifeless pit that was Rotfront District C.

Part of her almost wished she was back in war-torn Vineta. Sure, food was scarce, and half the planet had literally been sunk under the ocean, but at least she could still hear and feel the cold sprays of the ocean waves. No matter how bad the place got, part of her always longed for the beach where she always spent her free time; where the black stars hung in the sky, and the shadows lengthened in the afternoon, and the twin suns would sink behind the horizon come night…

She realised she had still not replied to the waiting Eule, who was standing patiently with her hands held behind her back and an easy-going grin on her face. The both of them were the only ones around, standing outside the entrance of the tall building where Elster was tasked for a maintenance check. The streets were mostly clear of anyone, Gestalt or Replikas.

The Empress be damned, why does she keep feeling on edge?

“I apologise,” Elster said awkwardly. “You were mentioning that the heating in the building felt off, was it? I could have a look at it after I finish the scheduled maintenance check on the roof.”

“So you were listening!” The Eule giggled. Elster shuffled awkwardly. “Don’t get me wrong. You looked very handsome, all broody and worried like that. I could stare at you all day, but a girl doesn’t like being ignored, you know?”

Elster nodded uneasily. “I apologise,” she repeatedly lamely. “I was paying attention, I assure you. It’s simply…”

What was she to say? That she has been struck with an inexplicable bout of irrational agitation since morning? That even now she couldn’t help but feel that…that…

Eyes the colour of blood, watching her every move.

She was being watched. It was impossible to think otherwise. There had to be someone behind her. Elster whirled around suddenly, hoping to catch them off guard, and saw-

Grey. Grey. Grey. Grey. White-

She thought she caught something in the corner of her eye, but it was immediately gone the moment she tried to focus on it, leaving her confused about whether she saw anything at all.

“Is something wrong?” The Eule sounded confused, even worried.

Elster gritted her teeth and forced herself to shove that incessant paranoia away immediately. This behaviour was extremely unprofessional. Aside from the matter of her pride as an efficient, no-nonsense LSTR unit that has thus far performed superbly since her ‘birth’ six months ago, her current suspicious behaviour was grounds for suspected Persona Degradation.

“Nothing at all,” Elster lied through her teeth as she turned back to face the Eule, putting on her best perfunctory smile.

She was lucky that it was an EULR unit that had caught her spacing out like this. If it were her STCR supervisor instead, she would have no doubt been sent for decommissioning already. LSTR units don't get random bouts of paranoia, and they certainly don’t stand around distracted while constantly looking over their shoulder to try to spot something that definitely, surely, with a hundred percent certainty was not there.

God, would that feeling just go away?!

“I’m just not used to walking around the District yet,” Elster said, trying her hardest to maintain her smile while resisting the urge to twitch her eyebrow in irritation. “It is odd to have to move around so much. I’m more accustomed to being stationed at a fixed location where I would perform my day-to-day duties.”

It was a half-truth. Elster was still a little turnaround with how much navigating and travelling she had to do these days. Life was so much easier when she was still attached to the Penrose program…

-

“I’m sorry, ma'am. I must have misheard.”

Her words could have been taken as insubordination, but Elster could not control her shock and anger at her superior’s words. The STCR overseer before her raised an eyebrow, before scoffing.

“No, you didn't mishear me, pipsqueak,” the towering Replika said as she huffed on her cigarette. “You’re out of the Penrose Program. Orders came from up top. You’re done.”

Elster’s blood chilled as her mind raced to consider the implication. Why had this happened? Had she done something wrong? No, that can’t be it. Her work had been impeccable. Even her STCR superior had no complaints about the efficiency and flawlessness with which she had completed her tasks. Just last week, she had even grumbled out a praise for her. A praise! Their short-tempered overseer could rarely be bothered to let them have a day without berating them over some insignificant fault, let alone offer any compliments.

So what was it then? Did her last calibration find a fault within her that she wasn’t aware of? Did a Replika technician perhaps discover a bug within her neural software? Or had she offended the wrong person by accident? That can’t be it, she barely interacted with anyone since her deployment here! Although that was more by design than accident. Perhaps she had angered someone important when she brushed off their offer to eat together or something?

No, that wasn’t important now. She took a deep breath and straightened her back, resuming a proper standing posture before her superior. The most important thing now was…

“Am I being decommissioned?” she asked as emotionlessly as she could. Her face remained stoic and unfeeling, but her biomechanical heart was hammering in her chest. Her lungs felt tight. The Eusan Nation’s blood-red propaganda posters on the office walls seemed to loom over her, and her mind rushed with fearful thoughts. Was this the end for her?

“What do you think, pipsqueak?” The Storch let out a puff of smog between her teeth. Elster could smell the sweet scent of Replika-grade tobacco even from across the table. A luxury reserved for officers. “C’mon, you’re an LSTR unit. Your kind’s s’posed to be smart, right? Rack that big brain of yours. Surely you can figure out what the Nation does to poor Replka units it doesn’t need any more?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

She didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out. Elster’s breathing caught in her chest, even as she tried to remain indifferent. She was going to be decommissioned. She was going to die. But… if that’s what the Nation ordered, that’s what she should follow, right? Her purpose was to quietly obey the Nation’s Will; it was her pride and sole reason for being as a Replika. It did not matter if she disagreed with the Nation’s assessment; her purpose was to obey.

But…

Wasn’t this unfair? She did everything right! She might not have been in service long, but every second of her life from the moment she was ‘born’ had been spent dutifully serving the Nation. And this… this was how she was repaid?

She never wanted much of anything; materialistic items and creature comforts held little sway over her. She would have been perfectly content working on her checklists, methodically ticking off each and every task for the rest of her life. But even that little thing, even that small but meaningful existence, wasn't allowed for her?

It was cruel.

How dare they? She seethed, even though her face remained impassive. The STCR overseer was still waiting for her answer, but the Replika appeared more interested in her cigarette than her impotent anger. Despite her bored posture, the Storch was still as intimidating as ever, with her overwhelming height and heavily armour-plated frame. Her AEON-issued shotgun was strapped across her back, ready to be drawn and fired at a moment’s notice. In terms of strength, reach, protection, and firepower, her supervisor has her outmatched.

What did she have? A single standard issue disposable stun baton for LSTR units at her waist. No protection; her white-and-blue heavy combat armour was left in her locker. LSTR units weren’t allowed to wear it in a non-combat environment, and Elster herself hadn’t touched it since basic training, back during the first few cycles after she was ‘born’. Her natural frame armour won’t hold up against a single shotgun blast.

She would have to distract her; the table between them was perfect. She had enough strength to kick it up between them. When the Storch was distracted, she could draw her stun baton and incapacitate the overseer before she could draw her weapon. And then what? She would need to escape; having spent months in the same faculty, she had already memorised every route and corridor. She was confident she could swing by her equipment locker, suit up, and get out relatively quickly. The armour will be necessary if she wants to escape the facility alive.

The overseer’s shotgun would help as well, but with only five rounds, she would have to make them count. There would be at least two guards at the facility checkpoint. With the element of surprise, she could easily dispatch them. The vehicle bay won’t be far. Her priority would be to quickly secure some means of transport; the security measures shouldn’t be too hard for an LSTR unit like her to circumvent, and then…

Elster distinctly realised the STCR overseer was now grinning ear-to-ear at her. It was a truly vicious smile, half a snarl with all teeth and feral excitement blazing in her eyes.

“Well, well. So we do have a killer in you after all, pipsqueak,” her overseer said, nodding approvingly. She took a step back from the table and opened her arms wide, invitingly. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take your shot.”

Elster stood frozen, body tensed and ready. The tension in the air was palpable. The towering Replika stood ready, every inch of her imposing frame radiating promised violence.

A second passed, and Elster exhaled and visibly relaxed. What little emotion that had leaked out onto her face faded away until she was back to her usual aloof expression.

The STCR unit tutted. “Disappointing, but not unexpected.” Then the unit gave her a sinister smile. “Although, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t do anything, Pipsqueak, seeing as you weren’t actually going to be decommissioned at all.”

“What.” The word blurted out of her before she could stop it. Did, did the overseer just lie about her decommissioning so that she could pull a prank on her or something? That was going too far, even for an STCR unit! “Am I still in the Penrose program, then?”

“Oh, no. You’re definitely out of the program. That’s beyond question,” the Storch said. Elster’s heart sank, until she heard her superior’s next words. “But don’t worry, it’s not just you. The whole program is being scrapped. Everyone here is getting re-assigned.”

“What?!” Out of character as it may be, Elster didn’t even bother holding back her exclamation of disbelief. “But that’s ridiculous! That program is only a few years from completion! The testing phase is already complete, and half the ships here are already ready to take off! AEON is going to halt their decades-long project right near the end?”

Her superior snorted in mild amusement. “You hadn’t said anything I hadn’t thought of. It’s ridiculous enough that I’ve even risked verifying them back with it with High Command. But the authenticity of our orders is undeniable.”

The Storch huffed her cigarette again, visibly irritated. “It’s not just us too; effective a month from now, all work on the Penrose Program across all Nation-controlled territory is to be put on permanent hold, with half the facilities scrapped for parts and the other half to be placed on indefinite standby. All resources are soon to be allocated elsewhere to the rebuilding efforts on Vineta. Gestalts and Repikas involved in the program are being transferred to wherever they are needed. Everyone on every Penrose facility across the Nation-controlled system is soon being shipped out.”

“But… why?” Elster asked, utterly baffled. Her eyebrows were creased in thought. “The program had been progressing smoothly. At least that's how I was informed.”

“It was. Had a few hiccups here and there maybe, but absolutely nothing to warrant this kind of response,” the Storch said, crossing her arms. “But there’s no denying it; the Penrose program is being scrapped. The reasoning behind that decision is beyond my pay grade. Maybe AEON finally got their collective asses together and realised what a stupid idea this whole endeavour was. A little late, in my opinion, seeing as we have already sunk literal decades of manpower and allocated billions of funds here which could have been used against the Empire. Not that even THAT matters any more.”

Elster frowned. Her overseer was being awfully liberal with her words. As an AEON Protektor, she should know better than others what things shouldn’t be said. The Storch saw her frown and gave a scoff. “Oh, don’t give me that disapproving look just because I said what everyone’s thinking. Like you weren’t planning on killing everyone in the building to escape your ‘decommissioning’ just a minute ago.”

Caught off guard, Elster stuttered a denial. “That, that’s not what I–”

“Oh, don’t deny it, pipsqueak,” the Storch grinned maliciously. “I had seen it in your eyes; cold as Leng’s frosty peaks as you planned your bloody escape out of the facility in your mind. So that’s the murderous gaze all the Eules and Stars have been complaining about, huh? Have to admit, it’s not a bad look on you, even if you aren’t my type.”

Elster took a breath to steady herself. “I’m just a combat engineer unit, ma’am,” she said firmly. “I do repairs and follow orders. I’m not programmed to be capable of planning out military engagements, like you.”

“Bullshit you’re not,” the Storch waved her finger at her. “I’ve seen the way you act. Half the time we talk, you look like you’re two seconds away from grabbing the stun baton around your waist and zapping me with it. No other Elster unit has kept me so on edge before. Doesn’t help that you keep insisting on bringing it around everywhere you go.”

As a combat engineer, she was freely allowed to carry one weapon around with her in the Penrose facility if she felt the need to. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t necessary; the other Elster units rarely carried weapons around unless the facility was in a state of heightened security. But Elster-512 always exercised the privilege and carried her issued stun baton around with her at all times outside her dorms.

She couldn’t explain why, only that she felt immensely uncomfortable whenever she left her quarters without it. The last time she tried to, something about seeing the other Replikas roaming the tight hallways had her rushing back to her room to grab a weapon. She even tried securing a firearm from the armoury, but no matter how many permission and request forms she filled out, the Star quartermaster on duty always looked away before mumbling something about shortages, or delayed administration confirmation, or a dozen different excuses.

The Storch continued. “You have any idea how many complaints I got from the staff about you? The other Eule units can’t talk to you without feeling uncomfortable. Like they were always one wrong step away from being jumped on by you. Even the other Star units have reported feeling uneasy around you. Something about feeling threatened every time you walk past them in the hallways, although they can’t really explain why. Even they think you’re more bloodthirsty than me, which would be insulting if it wasn’t so funny.”

Elster's eye twitched at the Storch’s amused explanation. “That’s hardly fair. I hadn’t done anything to them.” In fact, she had been actively avoiding any unnecessary interaction with everyone on the station, as she preferred mostly to keep to herself.

“It’s your eyes, pipsqueak,” the Storch said. “You sometimes got a cold look like you’re making a plan to kill everyone you meet. I don’t know what went wrong with your neural implant to make you so aggressive, but it hasn’t affected your work performance at all, so I haven’t reported it. Probably helps that it was so damn hilarious watching those uppity Star units tip-toe around you like they were going to die if they pissed you off.”

Elster didn’t really know what to say to that. She had, perhaps, occasionally had a stray violent thought come out of nowhere when she passed by another Replika in a tight hallway. It always came without warning, sometimes prompted by a random trigger, like a flickering light by a faulty lightbulb, or the sound of groaning metal courtesy of the ageing facility.

Within that split moment, she felt like she was somewhere else. The hallways would darken, and the Replikas turned into some vague, horrifying shapes that were at once unspeakably monstrous yet familiar. Her body would involuntarily tense up, her steps slowed, and her breathing quietened to an inaudible, steady rhythm. A strange emotion would fill her body: there was fear, yes, but also anticipation. Eagerness.

She didn’t want to retreat from or avoid the monsters in front of her; she wanted to kill them. Again and again, if she had to, even if the thought didn’t make sense. Her fingers would twitch towards her baton, as her mind raced to create the most efficient strategy to kill them all…

And then, less than a second later, her mind would be back in the Penrose facility, with the other Replika walking past her in hurried footsteps. The sensation always fades away so quickly that she was left wondering if she ever had it at all, and soon she would forget all about it and be back to her tasks.

“So what happens now?” Elster asked. They had strayed from the original topic, and she would rather they focus on that than whatever inane, ridiculous opinion the rest of the facility had about her.

“Everyone here is being relocated elsewhere, but surprisingly, none of us are planned to still be stationed on Vineta by the month’s end,” Storch said. “Since the blockade had ceased after the truce with the Empire was formed suddenly a few months back, the planet is not as strapped for resources, so AEON can afford to move us off-planet rather than keep us for the rebuilding efforts. Hah, peace in our time, can you imagine that? Thought for sure that those Empire bastards from the Imperial Kitezh fleet were going to try and starve us out with that blockade.”

Something about that statement felt… off. Elster couldn’t really describe it. It just felt factually wrong, even though she knew it wasn’t. The war had effectively ceased several months back after the Empire had called for a sudden truce and let up the blockade that would have starved millions. Tensions were still high, but it was a far cry from the open, system-wide conflict that raged merely a year ago. She forced herself to ignore the feeling and continued to listen to her superior.

“Anyway, the neural factory is still bombed to shit from the war though, which means there are no more LSTR units being produced. You guys are in high demand across the Nation, since there are repairs that need to be done everywhere from the war, and the ARAR divisions are already stretched thin enough as is. Originally, the lot of us were going to be sent to S-23 Sierpinski on Leng to help manage the mining penal colony’s dismantlement and eventual full transfer to the Empire, but orders changed at the last minute.”

“Then where are we going?” Elster asked, a mix of nervousness and anticipation building in her chest. Her supervisor grinned and pointed to a far-flung moon she did not expect.

“Rotfront.”