It was quiet for such a long time that he thought it might have died. The urge to look at it grew overwhelming.

“I remember—a room. It was grey. There were people. Other soldiers. We didn’t know what was going on, but something wasn’t right, and then something, something –” Its eyes flickered to Tracey’s face. “You were there.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yeah you were,” it said. “You were there, you said I was to come with you, and then you took me into—the other place, and then you –”

“Shut up!” Tracey snapped, even though it wasn’t saying anything. “I didn’t want to. They made me do it, they ordered me, and when you don’t do what they say—it wasn’t my fault.” He buried his face in his arm. “I didn’t know when I signed up. I swear I didn’t know.”

“You were holding me down. You bastard. You doped me. You bastard.”

“Stop it,” said Tracey. “Please—just leave me alone. I saved your life, didn’t I?”

“Fuck you.” It made a ghastly, wretched sound.

It was staring at its hands, at the smooth metal joints, and it was crying, or trying to cry. “How much of me is left?”

“I don’t know.” He scrubbed at his face. “Nervous system. Some of your skeleton. Heart and lungs, some muscle tissue. Not much soft matter. It’s an extensive procedure.” Human nervous system, mechanical body. Who could ask for a better soldier?

“This wasn’t an experiment, was it? You knew what you were doing. This is—we were supposed to be the good guys. Aren’t we the good guys?”

“I don’t know any more. I don’t know if we developed this or if we sneaked the technology from them. I’m not sure anyone even remembers.”

“How long has it been? Is this the same war?”

Tracey choked out a grim laugh. “Oh, yeah. It’s the same war alright. It never ends. It’s been three years since—almost four. I remember ’cause...”

“ ’cause what?”

“Because you were the first one I worked on.” He breathed in, out. “I remember you. You were blond. Your teeth were crooked. I liked you.”

“Did you?”

“You were—charming.” Charming, a strange word to be using on a battlefield, it felt all wrong in his mouth. “Bit flirty. I thought you were fit.” He almost smiled—but the memory triggered a wave of nausea.

The blood coating his latex gloves, the low whine of the equipment, the wet sounds it made as—

“I remember,” it said. “You were shy. I like shy.”

“I wasn’t shy, I was piss-terrified,” Tracey said, staring at his knees. “I didn’t realise how much it was going to suck. Till I spoke to you.” The air tasted of metal and spilt fuel. He could hear the iSoldier sobbing, a rough, grating sound.

It said, “What’s your name?”

“Tracey Carter.”

“Tracey’s a girl’s name.”

“Fuck you, I saved your life.”

“Tracey,” it breathed. “Do me a favour, yeah? Don’t tell anyone I cried over this.”

He snorted out a laugh. “I don’t think I’m going to be telling anyone anything.”

“You could call for help.” The electronics in its voice were warping.

“I already told you, they won’t come for me.”

“They might. You should try.”

“Why do you even care what happens to me?” said Tracey. “I did this to you. I thought you hated me. You should hate me.”

“Don’t want to die hating you,” said the iSoldier. “Don’t want to die hating anyone.”

It was looking at him. Maybe there were tears in its eyes, or maybe that was the way the light was reflecting. “Private McCray. That was your name?”

“Joseph McCray.”

“I outrank you.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes, up through his sticky hair. “Alright. Fine.” He gave his scope a shake and groped through the functions. “I’m pinging the base. Happy now?”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Joseph McCray. His metal hand touched Tracey’s knee, trying to comfort. Tracey didn’t move, because he didn’t know what else to do, and because he kind of wanted comforting, even if was from a broken iSoldier.

The light was dimming. He wasn’t sure if night was falling or if it was the thickening smoke. His scope flickered and died for good. He drank half the water he had left and ate his compacted nutrient bars.

He tried to climb out, dragging himself up the slope. He put his weight on a loose clump of brick and skittered all the way down, scraping open his hands and knees. He picked the grit out of his palms and began again.

“You won’t make it.”

“Oh yeah?” He scrabbled to find footing, staring up at the rays of musty light. Freedom was so close he could taste it.

“It’s like—I grew up near this old quarry. There was one side that was too steep to climb. We always tried but we never made it, it was like walking on ice—and one time my mate tried it and he fell and broke—my mate, he –” His growling voice cut out. Tracey lost his tenuous footing, slithering down to the concrete. “My mate, his name was—he was my best mate since forever, I should know his name—why don’t I remember his name?”

“I dunno.” Tracey dusted off his hands. He gave his scope a shake. Still nothing. He steeled himself. “Your memory centres might be starting to break down.”

“No.” Joseph waved a metal hand at him. “No, you said that wouldn’t happen. You said I’d be dead first.”

“Said you’d be dead before your neural circuits went kaput. Never said you’d be dead before you started to—you know. Go.”

“Go where?” Joseph clutched at the ground, trying to lever himself upright. His fingers gouged tracks through the concrete. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! You’ve still got most of your brain. I don’t know anything about brains. I’m a tech, not a neuroscientist.” He climbed. Hand, foot. Hand, foot.

“If you get out –” Joseph’s voice was tinged with panic. Perhaps it always had been. The electronic voice box was fading, the iSoldier’s voice falling to an unintelligible hum. “If you get out, are you just going to leave me here?”

Hand, foot. Hand, foot.

“I don’t want to die like this. Not alone. Don’t leave me to die like this alone, please.”

His hand met something jagged under the dirt. He dragged himself upwards even as blood smeared on the dust, fuelling his screaming muscles with mind-numbing desperation. He hadn’t known he wanted to live this badly.