Not every life form’s screams had been heard.

The white-clad Medic Phaetons pulled body after body from the surrounding buildings. The death toll was estimated to be around 20. It was fairly low, as death tolls go, but even one death was too many.

Every Living One the Phaetons failed to save would only contribute to the next Exhaust formation.

Ten sat in the back of an emergency vehicle, swinging her legs in the cold night air. The one that had been cut in half had already been replaced. 911 said it was a close call, that if they had gotten to her any later, her own incinerator light might have come on.

She sipped an electrolyte drink, staring blankly ahead.

1225 came over to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was at the perimeter with the Living Ones when I heard…I ran as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine,” said Ten. She took another sip. “It’s not as if I haven’t been through this before. I’m Point Class, after all.”

“If anyone should take the blame for what happened, it’s me.”

Fifteen came around to them from the side. Her right eye was covered with a patch. “It’s the Strikers who are supposed to hold down the Core until the Finishers arrive. Not only did we fail to locate it, we couldn’t even get to you before it took one of your soldiers.” She lowered her head. “I apologize.”

“Don’t, please. I mean, clearly you were preoccupied.” She gently touched Fifteen’s eyepatch. “When will the nerves grow in?”

“3 days. It could be less.”

“That’s good.”

Ten took a final sip, then crushed the metal can into her fist. “…This never should have happened,” she said quietly. “How could I lose my leg? Especially below the knee…I thought that’s what the armor was there for!”

“The Engine armor’s been getting weaker as of late,” said 86, sidling up to them. “Didn’t you notice? Since last year, we’ve been getting banged up a lot in every fight. I even lost one of my Limits when her helmet got crushed, and— well, you know.”

“I noticed,” said Fifteen. “I guessed it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. Speed and luck can only take you so far.”

“Well, shouldn’t we do something?” asked 1225. “Let’s air a grievance to 404! We can’t work with sub-par equipment!”

“What can she do about it? She’s only a management Phaeton,” said Fifteen.

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“Let’s go bother her anyway. That’s how bureaucracy works,” said 86. “You bother somebody, then they bother somebody else, and so on and so forth until the right person gets bothered. Nothin’ we can do but start the chain.”

+++

“…An update is currently in development. But it’s not due for another two years,” said 404.

“Two years is too long! If our armor doesn’t hold, we won’t even last two months! We need action now!” 86 yelled.

“Can’t we just get part of the update right away?? This could be serious!” added 1225.

404 got up from her chair. She slowly walked to the front of the meeting room. “…I guess it’s about time I told you what’s going on,” she said.

“There’s something going on?” Fifteen asked with narrowed eyes.

404 sighed. “The System is getting…clogged. That is to say, we’ve found that the Exhaust leaves behind a sort of Residue that builds up over time. And it’s been so long that it’s starting to have an effect on the System…an effect that makes the Exhaust itself more…intense.”

“So that’s why they can cut through our armor now,” said Fifteen.

“Exactly. And it’s why there isn’t any update coming anytime soon. All resources are being put towards finding a way to “clean out” the System. If we don’t, any update we could provide you with would soon become obsolete anyway.”

“But something still has to be done in the meantime,” said 1225. “If they want to live long enough to figure this out, then we need to be able to protect them.”

“If they’re not going to make us stronger, then they could at least make more of us,” Fifteen suggested.

“More?”

Ten stood up. “More fresh meat to throw at the Exhaust? Is that really what you want? Is that really all we are??”

“Don’t be so sensitive. She just meant that we need help. More hands make lighter work,” said 86.

“This isn’t work! This is…death!” cried Ten. “It’s just death! Didn’t you hear what 404 just said?! Things are only going to get worse, and there’s no guarantee that the Living Ones will ever figure out how to make it easier for us! They’ll just keep throwing us at the problem like they always have!”

Tears ran down her face. “People who’ve been alive for just a few days…shouldn’t just disappear. I can’t accept it. It’s not fair!”

+++

Ten left the meeting room and went straight to her pod. It was late anyway; most of the other Phaetons, including the ones who had gone on the mission, were already asleep.

She was glad. She knew 1310 had friends in the fleet, and she would never have been able to face them.

She laid back on the plasticky cushions and stared up at the tinted glass, inches from her face.

As tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was full of death.

It was said that only the Living Ones actually died. But what was death, really? If a person dies, they disappear forever, ceasing to exist. Even the System’s reincarnation could not guarantee that one would be the exact same person when they entered their new body.

Once a life ended, it could never truly be gotten back.

In that case, then, Ten thought, Phaetons were the ones who actually died. Their “life” was not true “life”, but once it ended it was gone completely. No Phaeton was reincarnated with memories or feelings belonging to a past life. They simply existed until they didn’t.

Ten turned onto her side. She wished there was a separate System for Phaetons, one that would give them another shot at life, too. One that could bring 1310 back.

She knew it would never happen. Simply replacing the Phaetons was far more efficient than developing a System to preserve them. Besides, a second System would probably produce its own share of Exhaust, and they were just barely managing the status quo. A status quo that was slowly worsening all on its own…

She closed her eyes. “No more thinking until the morning,” she decided.