The iSoldier wheezed . “You said they didn’t train you.”
“What?”
“You said they didn’t train you. Didn’t sound like it just now.”
“I was a junior medtech. I got demoted. Happy now?”
There were regulations about executing non-combatants. But there were jobs that needed doing, jobs too dangerous to risk an AI. Field techs, on average, lasted 3.8 missions before their sticky end. It was tidy. It worked, on average.
This was Tracey’s fifth mission.
“I woke up on a battlefield without any legs, so no, I’m not happy.” A choking sound that was either a laugh or a sob. “What did you do to get demoted?”
“What’s it to you? Nothing. I didn’t do anything. Piss off.” Tracey didn’t want to look at it. He didn’t want it looking at him, not with those dancing, living eyes.
“You must have done something.”
“Well, I didn’t. It wasn’t something I did, it was something I was supposed to do that I didn’t. So I didn’t do anything.”
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.”
