Chapter 46 - Bound in Silver

  Darius stirred, groaning as consciousness dragged him back from the abyss. The air was damp, carrying the metallic tang of rust and mildew that clung to the maintenance tunnels. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped steadily, the rhythmic sound grating against his nerves. The floor beneath him was cold and uneven, a patchwork of corroded metal grating and cracked cement that pressed into his skin.

  He blinked, staring at the wall dominating his vision. He… hadn’t really expected to wake up at all, to be honest.

  Instead, he felt… well, he felt pretty terrible, to be honest, but it was more sore than agonising pain, which was a win in his books. He pushed himself upright, wincing and gasping as pain suddenly flared along his side. Every breath felt like dragging shards of glass through his chest.

  Never mind, then.

  There was a sudden scrape of metal against concrete, and he jerked his head up in panic to see Echo’s frame crouch down in front of him.

  “You’re awake,” Echo noted neutrally as he tried to calm his suddenly pounding heart. It was… surprisingly easy, actually.

  “Surprisingly,” he snarked back, shuffling over until he could slump back against the wall. “What… where are we?” he asked, changing his question mid-way through. Asking what had happened was rather pointless – he might have been hazy from pain and blood loss, but he could remember staggering through the streets after escaping from the safehouse.

  Echo’s frame tilted its head slightly, the faint whir of servos accompanying the motion. “We are currently in the maintenance tunnels. Approximately six kilometres from the entrance closest to the safehouse. I picked a random enough direction that it should be challenging for anyone to track our movements.”

  Darius snorted, the sound bitter and breathless. “That’s comforting. And… thanks. Can’t have been easy to drag me that far.” He shifted, hissing as a sharp flare of pain shot through his ribs. “How long was I out?”

  “Three hours, seventeen minutes,” Echo replied evenly. “Your condition required immediate stabilisation.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much,” Darius muttered. He tried to suppress the edge of panic creeping in, focusing on anything but the raw ache in his side. “So, uh… what’s the plan? I assume you didn’t drag me here for the ambience.”

  “The priority was your survival,” Echo said simply. “Additional plans are contingent on your recovery.”

  “Right,” Darius said, exhaling slowly as his mind struggled to process. His eyes darted to the tunnel walls, tracing the streaks of rust along the concrete. “Any idea what the situation is like on the streets? Can’t imagine the Empire’s terrible happy right now, after we… after the Freeholders hit the garrison.”

  “Imperial patrol activity remains heightened,” Echo confirmed. “However, this location is currently undetected.”

  “Well, small favours, I guess,” Darius said, his voice strained. He was starting to run out of ways to avoid thinking about— “Hey, why does your voice sound different?” he asked, wrenching his thoughts away with an effort of will.

  Echo’s frame suddenly looked hesitant. Well, it didn’t look hesitant, lacking a face and all, but somehow the body language conveyed the concept of hesitance.

  “That… is a complicated question,” the AI hedged.

  Darius started to get a bad feeling.

  “What do you mean, complicated?”

  “Your injuries were severe,” Echo said after a moment, seemingly changing the subject. Darius would have protested, but he got the feeling he wasn’t the only one trying to avoid an uncomfortable topic. “And considering obtaining professional medical help was… unlikely, I determined there was a single course of action that would keep you alive.”

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?” Darius asked flatly.

  “Almost certainly not,” Echo admitted. “I believe it would be simpler if you saw for yourself. You may wish to check your injuries.”

  Darius swallowed thickly. “I’m not great with blood,” he delayed, “Especially not when it’s my own.”

  “That won’t be an issue,” Echo assured, somewhat ominously.

  Darius let out a shaky breath, staring down at his hands for a moment, steeling himself. His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed, trembling slightly. “Right. Okay. No blood. That’s… great. Super reassuring.”

  He reached down to the hem of his torn and bloodied shirt, his heart hammering against his ribs. Pulling it up, he froze. His breath caught in his throat, and the words he’d been about to say dissolved into silence.

  Where he had expected to see torn and bloodied flesh was instead a web of silvery, liquid-like lines stretched across his skin, catching the dim light of the tunnels. It was as though someone had taken molten metal and carefully inlaid it into the torn flesh, creating a seamless lattice that mimicked the healthy flesh next to it.

  His hand hovered over the silvery patch, reluctant to touch it. It shimmered faintly, unnervingly alive. “What the hell…” His voice cracked, the words barely audible.

  “The nanite matrix,” Echo said evenly, “has replaced the damaged sections of your body. The injuries you sustained would have been fatal without intervention.”

  “Replaced,” Darius repeated, his voice flat. His fingers brushed the edge of the metallic surface, the sensation cold and smooth. “You… replaced parts of me.”

  He could still feel it. It hurt, like you’d expect an injury to hurt.

  “The nanites replicate and reinforce biological structures,” Echo explained. “They ensure functionality. Your blood vessels, skin, and muscle tissue were too compromised to be left intact.”

  Darius laughed. It was not a happy sound, more of a breathless, desperate attempt to avoid a more negative response. “Oh, well, that’s just… just fantastic. Great news. I’m alive, but now I’m part… whatever this is.”

  “Your body remains predominantly biological,” Echo said, as though that made it better. “The integration is minimal and necessary. Without it, you would not have survived.”

  Darius let his shirt fall back into place, slumping against the wall. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, every exhale shaky. “And you… what? Just decided this was the best option?”

  “It was the only option,” Echo rebutted. “Without this, you would have died.”

  Darius rubbed his eyes. “Is it permanent?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Darius processed that for a moment, making a deliberate effort to look at the problem logically instead of emotionally. It was surprisingly easy to do. The permanent nature of his new… modifications wasn’t unexpected – just like with any standard augments, once you integrated mechanical parts onto the body, you couldn’t just pull them out again.

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  Well, technically, it was possible. There were incredibly expensive treatments, cloning body parts and surgically reattaching them, but like hell he was ever going to be able to afford that.

  “Okay. Okay. I can… deal with this. This… doesn’t need you, does it? Like, when you leave, I’m not just going to fall over and die, right?”

  The silence was telling.

  “Echo?” Darius asked plaintively, well aware his tone was begging.

  “The human body is not a simple thing,” Echo finally responded, speaking slowly, almost reluctantly. “It was not a simple matter of… of constructing some synthetic flesh and reconnecting a few veins. The wounds were bad enough that there was underlying muscle and nerve damage. Even your heart was damaged by some shrapnel. In order to ensure that my… repairs worked seamlessly, that it didn’t further disrupt or strain your body, I needed to integrate further with your nervous system.”

  It clicked.

  Darius realised that he had already known from the minute he woke up. He had sensed the difference, he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Hadn’t wanted to confront it. He allowed the cool filter of logic to fall away, allowed himself to feel things again.

  The next several minutes were spent swearing viciously.

  Finally, he ran out of steam. “But we made the frame,” he said softly, pointlessly. “We got the processor cores. It was all… finished.”

  “I know,” Echo said equally softly.

  They sat in silence for a long moment.

  The distant drip of water and the faint hum of unseen machinery filled the void, oppressive in its stillness. Darius’s thoughts churned, spiralling around the reality of what Echo had said, of what he had become. He clenched his fists, then released them, letting out a long, slow breath.

  “Alright,” Darius said finally, his voice rasping against the quiet. “Sitting here in the dark, feeling sorry for myself, isn’t going to help anything. So… what’s the plan? We’re stuck together, you and me. What’s our next move?”

  Echo’s frame tilted its head slightly, the servos whirring faintly. “The original plan remains viable. Leaving the planet would ensure a greater chance of survival and freedom from Imperial pursuit. Not to mention, we appear to have overstayed our welcome with the Freeholders.”

  Darius’s mouth twisted into a grimace. That was a very diplomatic way of putting it. “Sounds great in theory, but there’s one tiny little problem; we’re broke, hunted, and I’m covered in blood. And your frame doesn’t exactly scream ‘inconspicuous’. We take two steps outside, and someone will call for the enforcers.”

  “Hardly ideal,” Echo agreed. “Fortunately, the Freeholders didn’t bother to remove your weapon, and I was able to grab your cred-chip.”

  Darius raised an eyebrow as Echo’s frame reached down into its own torso, reaching into the compartment that should have held the processor cores. Sure enough, wedged into it was his cred-chip.

  “Okay, so we have two-and-a-half thousand credits and a pistol with a single magazine. Better than nothing, I guess, but it doesn’t actually solve any of our problems.”

  Darius was aware he was being a bit of a jerk, not to mention specifically pessimistic, but he figured he’d earned the right to vent a little.

  Echo didn’t take any offence. “It is a place to start,” the AI pointed out reasonably. “I believe the most efficient course of action will be to make our way through the maintenance tunnels to the shipyard, then see if it is possible to steal a worker’s uniform to cover up the state of your clothing and allow you to blend in better.”

  “Alright, putting aside the difficulty of getting to the locker room to steal stuff, as well as the moral implications,” Darius started sarcastically, “how do you propose we sneak your frame in? I don’t think throwing a trench coat over it is going to hide anything.”

  “That, I am unsure of,” Echo admitted freely. “We may have to leave the frame behind once we arrive at the shipyards – at least until you have a disguise. Certain aspects of this plan will need to be flexible.”

  Wonderful.

  Darius pushed himself to his feet, wincing as pain lanced through his side. He leaned against the wall for support, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Well, then, no time like the present.”

  Echo’s frame rose fluidly, its movements precise and mechanical, smoothly ducking under one of Darius’s arms and helping support some of his weight before he could react. He was about to complain, but it did make walking a lot easier, so he grit his teeth and bore it.

  – – –

  Apparently, being partly mechanical didn’t make him any more fit, as Darius was unfortunately finding out after about an hour of walking through the tunnels. In fairness, it had been less than six hours since he took what should have been a fatal wound, so being up and about at all was a bit of a miracle.

  The tunnels seemed to stretch on endlessly, a winding maze of corroded steel grates, exposed pipes, and the occasional flickering light that barely illuminated the path. Every step Darius took echoed faintly, followed by the clank of Echo’s frame as it followed him.

  His side ached—not the sharp, searing pain he’d expected, but a dull, relentless throb that gnawed at him with every step.

  He finally stopped, leaning heavily against the cold, damp wall, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Alright… timeout. I need a break,” he muttered, sliding down until he was sitting on the uneven floor.

  “You are pushing yourself beyond your current capacity,” Echo said, crouching beside him. “Which is why I recommended a break several minutes ago.” Its tone was neutral, but Darius could have sworn it was almost chiding.

  “I’m not an invalid,” Darius replied sharply, resting his head against the wall. It wasn’t just pride that had him pushing further than was healthy, though it certainly played a part. No, it was also a big helping of fear and helplessness that kept him going. The thought that he had no one to turn to now really hammered everything home.

  He rubbed his side absently, wincing at the persistent ache. “Why the hell is this hurting, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject. “I thought the whole point of this… whatever it is… was to fix me. If it’s artificial, why make it painful?”

  Echo tilted its head, the faint glow of its optical sensors dimming slightly as it considered. Darius knew that the body language was an affectation, that Echo was actually in his head, but hell if it wasn’t a good act.

  “The pain is a result of the nanites reconstructing and attaching to your existing damaged nerves. The process is deliberately gradual to minimise errors and prevent unnecessary strain on your body. The nerves must remain active during the integration to ensure proper alignment and functionality.”

  Darius grimaced, letting his hand drop. “So, great. I get to hurt longer, but it’s for my own good. Just what I wanted to hear.”

  “The process is necessary,” Echo said simply. “Without it, the repairs would fail.”

  Darius nodded absently, his gaze drifting to the faintly glowing lines of the nanites beneath his shirt. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, “I’m handling this a lot better than I thought I would.”

  “To which aspect of our situation are you referring?” Echo prompted obligingly.

  “This,” Darius said, gesturing vaguely to his side, to Echo’s frame, to the situation as a whole. “Knowing there’s going to be another voice in my head for the rest of my life. Knowing my body’s… different now. Not entirely mine anymore.” He let out a short, humourless laugh. “Used to give me nightmares, the idea of altering my body. That’s why I don’t have many augments. Always figured I’d screw it up or regret it.”

  “And now?” Echo asked, its voice calm but not devoid of curiosity.

  “Now…” Darius trailed off, staring at the dimly lit tunnel ahead. “Now I can’t seem to care. I mean, I should care, right? I should be freaking out about how I’ll never be the same. But I’m not. Not really.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m guessing that’s your doing, isn’t it?”

  Echo didn’t answer immediately, and Darius felt a faint twinge of unease. “The integration of the nanite matrix involves partial synchronisation with your neural pathways,” Echo said finally. “It is possible that the process has influenced your emotional responses.”

  “Yeah, figured,” Darius said, his tone somewhere between resigned and bitter. He fell silent for a moment, sifting through his thoughts. He reviewed a few memories—the panic of escaping the safehouse, the crushing realisation that the Freeholders had planned to kill him. Even further back, the Imperial Officer coldly informing his family of his brother’s death. They were still vivid, still sharp, but the emotions tied to them felt… dulled. It wasn’t apathy. He still cared, still felt anger, frustration, fear. But it was easier to push them aside, easier to think logically.

  “Not sure how I feel about that,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Feels… wrong, I guess. Like I’m not all me anymore.”

  “If it is any consolation, I too have been affected,” Echo admitted. “While I do not process emotions in the same way that you do, I have noticed that my… feelings have started to affect my decisions.”

  Darius raised an eyebrow. That did make him feel better, in a strange sort of way. At least he wasn’t the only one being changed. “Any decisions in particular?” he asked, curious.

  “My overriding directive is to complete my mission,” Echo explained. “Once you were injured, the optimal response would have been to abandon you and attempt to establish a deal with the Freeholders. This would have provided more options going forward, whereas by staying with you, I am now more limited.”

  …Great.

  “Well, uh, thanks for not ditching me, then,” Darius said, clearing his throat. “I appreciate not dying.”

  “You are welcome,” Echo responded, sounding faintly amused.

  Darius sighed and pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the dull throb in his side. “Well, on that note, let’s keep moving. The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

  Beside him, the frame rose smoothly, offering a steadying hand as Darius took his first unsteady step. He ignored the gesture, though, forcing himself to walk without support. The ache in his side was a constant companion, but he welcomed it. It was grounding, in a way—proof that he was still alive, still moving forward.

  The trick would be to stay that way.