The brief trip from one ship to another in the small fleet should have been uneventful and dull, taking only an hour to go from the Command ship was where Flit was stationed to the Primary Attack ship on the other side of the fleet that orbited Knossos.
Knossos; the last redone in this little star-cluster. One last little knot of resistance against King Decon, His glorious reign, and to joining the greater galaxy.
It was Flit’s job to crush that resistance and bring the planet into civilization; kicking and screaming if they had to. Flit was willing to do whatever it took to achieve this goal, and right now that meant going from their Command ship to the Primary Attack ship so they could go over their latest attack plan with officers in charge there. They didn’t seem to understand Flit and needed over visual communication, and though Flit had tried, the others always got confused when they tried to explain the lengthier, more complex plans.
Confused and irritated. Of course, they did their best to suppress the latter. Flit was their commanding officer, and showing irritation to one's commanding officer wasn’t the best of ideas.
The combat officers also hated to leave their ship. Combat officers stayed on the Attack Ships. Sure, they would come to the Command ship if ordered, but they’d have that strange, confused look on their face that Flit hated so much. It would also be a larger pain to have them all transported to the Command ship and back. It was faster and easier from a logistical standpoint for Flit to go to them, even if it was ultimately more confusing to the others for the commander to leave the ship.
At least, it seemed to be a good idea until a cloud of debris struck their small transport ship.
Later, Flit would discover that it had been debris from a large escape ship that they had intercepted earlier that week, but at the moment, they didn’t know or care what it was. All Flit knew was that suddenly they were spirling off course, and that so many alerts were going off all at once, the klaxon blaring in their ears as an electronic voice listed the damage.
WARNING: FUEL TANK DAMAGE
WARNING: OXYGEN SUPPLY COMPROMISED
WARNING: REAR THRUSTER COMPROMISED
WARNING
WARNING
WARNING
Light flashed, the noise made their ears ring as they spiraled, drawn towards the planet by its gravitational pull. They couldn’t pull away; their remaining thrusters weren’t strong enough and their steering wasn’t working. Their next option was to get to the escape pod at the back of the ship. At worst, they’d get thrown off into space for a bit and have to wait for a pickup.
They didn’t like that idea; the thought of being lost in space for an unknown period froze their blood in their veins, but they pushed that back down deep inside them. Right now, they had an action to take; they had a plan, and so long as they had a plan, they could fend off any worry they might have.
The ship suddenly shook as it entered the atmosphere. It was such a specific, now familiar feeling that Flit recognized it immediately, and strapped themself in tighter to the chair.
The little escape pods wouldn’t hold if they tried to release while entering the atmosphere, so now they had only one option left. They got back to their seat, strapped themself in, and hit the emergency landing button. Panels encircled their seat and formed a tight egg that would protect them from the worst of the debris as they landed.
Survival rate in one of these was about 70%. That was better than 0%, but not as good as it would have been if they had ejected before they entered the atmosphere.
Not as good as it might have been if they stayed in their command ship and had the other officers come to them!
Still, if they had, there was every chance that the weapons officers would be in this exact situation, and they’d have lost up to five capable synths. If they had waited a day, or done this earlier, then maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation. Perhaps if they were better at communication like Snout had been, then they wouldn’t have needed to go to the other ship.
Of course, if they were better at all, their superiors wouldn’t have sent them into combat. If they had been more careful, they never would have been separated from Snout.
Snout would never know what happened. Flit knew that was the likely outcome regardless of whether they died here, or got reprocessed later when they became too old to be efficient. For all they knew, Snout might have been repossessed by now and they themself would never know. Despite that, if Snout was alive, it broke what they had left of their heart that their missing mate would never know what happened to them.
They couldn’t even send a message; they were never told of Snout's reassignment.
======
At some point, they passed out. Re-entry was awful at the best of times, but in a spiraling, damaged craft it was even worse. They only came to when they finally crashed to the ground, the remains of their ship breaking up and their little sealed pod flying out and striking against something and shattering. Flit wasn’t sure what it was, but it was large and strong, and as they struck, they could feel pain radiate over their chest, their left arm, and both wings. They could almost feel their brain move in their head as they struck their skull before skidding against the ground. Their uniform thankfully offered some protection, but the rough ground was rocky, devoid of grass, and nearly stripped their exposed arms of skin, and they even felt something puncture one of their wings.
When they finally stopped moving, they just lay on the ground. They were in so much pain; they didn’t know if they could move, and didn't even want to test it. For now, Flit just wanted to lie there, to let the world be still for a moment.
If it weren’t for the fact that they could hear their heart beating in their ears, the blood rushing through them, they’d have thought they were eliminated; that this was what it was like when a synth ceased to function. Perhaps the pain in their body would remain until a retrieval crew picked them up to be reprocessed on the medical ship. Well, that or decaying on this awful planet. One or the other.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Flit heard a noise behind them and realized that they had to get up. They had to stand up and move, and get out of the way. They had to assess the situation and find a way out of it as they had so many times before. Flit had been in worse situations before; positions that seemed even more hopeless than being on a hostile planet without combat armor or a multi-gun.
They had survived before, they’d survive again. If they survived this, then they had a chance to see Snout again.
Up. Everything hurt. There was likely a broken bone in their wing, and it was likely that they had broken a rib or two as well. No matter. They could still move, and they could still get away from whatever was approaching-
“You — wait, I only — you’re hurt — help?”
The words spoken, no, called out, from behind them were strange - The language was obviously Common, but there was an odd accent to them, and Flit couldn’t piece all the words together. Still, they recognized enough of what they spoke to realize that the speaker didn’t want to hurt them.
Still, it was a civilian. They couldn’t trust civilians.
Flit turned around regardless to see a civilian - human, and probably male by the looks of him as he was wider, had less defined waist and hips, and was lacking the breasts common in human females. He seemed to carry no weapon; at least not that Flit could see. He had a large bag slung over his shoulder.
He could have weapons in there.
They weighed their options carefully, but quickly. Without their armor, and injured as they were, if the human wanted to hurt them, they probably could. Of course, if they wanted to hurt them, they probably wouldn’t have shouted at them.
There was also the issue of him being here in the first place. He didn’t have a uniform, and a civilian here without a known allied uniform meant he had to be an insurgent. Even if they didn’t want to hurt them, even if they didn't realize they were a synth, working with an insurgent was something that a synth just did not do, regardless of the situation. It was one of the many rules that a synth learned to follow early.
Of course, if they had ever followed the rules to the letter, they’d not be alive today.
Flit stopped and waited for the civilians to catch up to them. On a hostile civilian planet without supplies, their armor, or a weapon, they realized they were in a very vulnerable position, and the next civilian they encountered probably wouldn't be arguably friendly.
And even if they were an insurgent, if working with them meant they had another chance to see Snout, they’d do it happily.
======
The civilian, who introduced himself as Jason, and who was indeed he/him, brought Flit to their shelter - a cave hidden away nearby where several civilians hid. Flit took careful note of the location and any minor details for when they returned to their ship. They figured out long ago that there were small hideouts, and discovering them all was proving to be an absolute pain in the ass. At least now there was one they could deal with quickly.
“You must have triggered a landmine.” The civilian said, slowing their words and being very careful to pronounce every syllable properly so that Flit could understand. It was an unnecessary kindness, as was the small talk they were trying to engage in while stitching up the holes in Flit’s wing after having patched up their arms. makeshift bandages covered them from wrist to shoulder on both arms, but it was better than nothing.
“Yes, I believe that’s what happened.” Flit said. Jason had apparently heard the crash, but hadn’t seen it happen. Flit was more than happy to let them make their own assumptions.
“You’re lucky that you didn’t get burned.” Jason said with a chuckle. “Less lucky with the intensity of these wounds. It looks like you got thrown, but I didn’t think our little landmines had the intensity for that.”
“Just bad luck, I suppose.”
“Did it throw you or something?”
The thought of lying made their stomach churn, and filled them with a dull anxiety even though they knew this civilian wouldn’t be able to tell they were lying. He couldn’t read their ears.
“It happened quickly; I’m not entirely sure how I got all my injuries.”
“Right…” Jason said, giving Flit a careful look. “Well, it doesn’t entirely matter. I’ll get you patched up, healed up, and we’ll get you off planet-”
“Off planet?” Flit asked. “Off Knossos?”
“Of course.” Jason said as they finished applying some bandages to the wing, “That’s why you came here, right? For the evacuation?”
So that’s what the civilians were doing. The last of the insurgents were evacuating; or at least the ones who couldn’t fight were. “I wasn’t aware there was an evacuation going on.”
Jason shrugged as he started looking through his bag. “Well.. yeah.” He have a sigh, “Decon's got this planet, I think. Best we can do is get targeted people off.”
“Targeted people?”
“Yes, you know. Anyone Decon might have executed, which really is anyone who got caught helping us.” He shrugged, “Even people who weren’t actually caught, honestly. It’s dangerous.”
Flit hummed, but otherwise kept their mouth shut. Yes, it was dangerous to assist the insurgency. It was dangerous, pointless, and stupid. The entire insurgency was idiotic. It was a simple matter of resources and math. King Decon had the galaxy at his disposal, so what could a single planet do to stand against Him? Of course, why they would want to in the first place was beyond Flit’s understanding, but what was the point of trying to figure out how insurgents thought?
Jason finally dug out a small bottle of pills from his bag and passed it to Flit. “Here. for the pain.”
“No, thank you.” Flit said, “I don’t think that’ll be suitable for me.” It might have been, but without their helmet, Flit had no way of knowing. Maybe it would help them, but maybe it could kill them. If it were a life or death situation, they’d take the chance, but it was only pain; They could take some pain while they healed.
“Oh, it’s fine.” Jason said, “I’ve given these to your kind before.”
Flit’s ears pinned back. “My kind?” This civilian couldn’t possibly know that they were a synth. If they had, why bother to help them? Why tell them so much?”
“Yes, I don’t look like much I know, but I’m well traveled.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been to Apoikia. Accidentally, but I’ve been there. I know it’s supposed to be off the maps. Don’t worry, I’ll keep that quiet.” He smiled, “I know some of your language, but I can’t speak it, obviously.” He smiled, “Didn’t think I’d find a Chilacian this far from home, to be honest. I can get you home if you’d like, or I can get you somewhere safe if you don’t want to go back.” He glanced up at Flit, and watched their ears. “Oh… and tell me what you want to tell the others. I’ll collaborate on whatever story you want. Nobody else here needs to know about your people.”
Flit said nothing. There was nothing they could think of to say to this. This civilian was clearly mistaken. It was possible there was another species that looked like them, but there were no synths living like civilians out there.
And Flit hadn’t even heard of Apoikia. They didn’t know if it was a planet, country, or city.
“... Can you really understand this language?” they asked, switching to synth speak.
“I can.” Jason said, though of course he spoke Common, “Bits and pieces. Enough to get the meaning, just don’t ask me to be a translator.”