Abandoned Unit
Tags: Survival, Stranded in the Wilderness, Angst
Published: 24 March 2022
Word Count: 3,065
Summary
A survey on an uninhabited planet went wrong and the humans evacuated, leaving Murderbot behind. Some time later, another ship crashes on the planet, with a group of humans called PreservationAux on board. Murderbot takes it upon itself to look after these stranded humans, but without letting itself be seen by them - it's a terrifying (and damaged) murderbot, it doesn't want to frighten them.
Of course, something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong.
Many thanks to the Murderbot Discord for all the ideas and discussions that prompted this snippet! The worms took the wheel. XD
It was the middle of the night when Mensah, and the rest of the stranded survey team, were awoken by something - or multiple somethings - shrieking in the distance. In all their time stranded on the planet, they hadn't heard any fauna that sounded like that. Even muffled by the crashed ship’s hull, the cries were sharp, discordant, angry. Mensah scrambled out of her bed and hurried to the ship lock, closely followed by the others. She noted that Gurathin and Overse had grabbed the small hand guns that were part of the survival kit, and mentally scolded herself for not doing the same.
She palmed the lock open but didn't step outside immediately, taking the time to scan the campsite they'd set up beneath the ship's external lights (they'd finally gotten them working again only a few cycles ago, thanks to some spare parts their mysterious helper had left for them) and listen for anything closer by. It was difficult to hear anything else over the distant shrieks though - without the ship hull to muffle them, they were much clearer now. Shrill and angry and, occasionally, pained, perhaps. She strained her hearing, trying to pick out details.
Was that, beneath the cries... energy weapon fire? She couldn't tell for sure.
"Should we... go investigate?" Ratthi asked hesitantly from somewhere in the middle of the huddle. Nobody had pushed past Mensah to step outside yet, they were all clustered together behind her.
"No, absolutely not," Mensah replied firmly. "Not in the middle of the night, when we have no idea what those are or what is happening. We'll wait until morning, when we can clearly see what we're doing."
"But what about..." Even after all this time, they still weren't sure what to call the mysterious entity that had been helping them, that they'd only ever caught the barest glimpses of. A shadow in the trees, a single gleaming eye in the darkness. "... Our friend?"
"I'm sure that they're fine," Mensah said confidently. "They've been here longer than we have. They'll know how to handle whatever it is." She didn't entirely believe her own words, but she had to keep her team calm, keep them safe. She had to believe that their helping friend was fine, for everyone's sake.
The distant shrieks had lessened, seemed to be fewer in number - and now Mensah was certain that she could hear energy weapon fire between the angry, pained cries. That only raised more questions, but now was not the time to voice them. She remained where she was, only partially listening to the murmurs of her friends behind her, most of her attention focused on what story the distant noises told.
Eventually, the alien shrieks died out entirely. There was one more burst of weapon fire, then silence.
Mensah let out a breath of relief, and she could feel the others doing the same. "All right. Whatever was happening, it's over now," she said reassuringly. "We should get back to bed, get as much rest as we can before daylight."
"After hearing all that, I don't know if I'm ever going to sleep again," Pin-Lee muttered, prompting strained chuckles of agreement. Mensah felt the same, but she shooed everyone back to their beds nonetheless - and made sure that the ship lock was firmly closed behind her.
When morning came, everyone was on edge, restless. Normally when they rose in the morning, there was some new gift waiting for them in the campsite - freshly caught fish, or a crate of gathered fruits (they’d left some small, empty crates out for their benefactor to use, which had vanished and returned full of various things), or spare parts scavenged from… somewhere.
But this morning, there was nothing. And nobody could forget the sounds from last night.
It didn’t take Mensah long to organise a search party. After a brief discussion, it was decided that only Bharadwaj and Volescu would remain at the ship, with the lock safely closed until the others got back. Everyone else would go - Mensah reasoned that there was safety in numbers. All those who had had weapons training carried a handgun, and Overse had a satchel full of what few emergency med packs and other medical supplies they had left. Mensah hoped they wouldn’t need them. They donned their environmental suits, which provided at least some protection, then closed the ship behind them and headed in the general direction of the noises they’d heard.
Mensah, Ratthi and Pin-Lee all carried portable scanners, which they used to scan for hazards and map their path. Arada and Gurathin had makeshift machetes, made from scraps of the ship’s hull, that their mysterious benefactor had left them. They used them to help clear a path through the undergrowth as they made their way through the surrounding trees.
It took almost an hour to reach the site of the previous night’s commotion - and it was very obvious that that’s what it was when they broke through the underbrush into a trampled clearing and found the scattered corpses. Huge fauna, with equally huge fangs and claws, lay bloodied and broken, sprawled or huddled beneath the trees. Most of them bore signs of energy weapons fire, lots of it, indicating that it took multiple shots to take them down. Some of them lay with their spines or necks or limbs at odd angles; scans confirmed snapped and broken bones, signs of blunt force trauma of significant strength.
The scanners also picked up traces of human blood mingled with inorganic fluids, on the fauna’s fangs and claws, spattered on the ground and surrounding trees. Mensah’s throat tightened in concern. Whatever - whoever - had fought these fauna had gotten hurt in the process. Badly, judging by the amount of blood and fluids the scanners were picking up. But there was no sign of anyone else nearby. Only the body of one of the herbivorous fauna that their mysterious benefactor sometimes left at their campsite.
Pin-Lee suddenly let out an exclamation, interrupting the others’ speculation and study of the beasts. “I’ve found a trail! Whoever fought these things went this way!” She gestured with the scanner, and Mensah hurried over, followed by the others.
“All right, let’s follow it. They probably need help,” Mensah said firmly. Pin-Lee took the lead, and the rest fell in behind her. Nobody had actually mentioned anything out loud about their stealthy helper, but Mensah could tell that they were all thinking the same thing. If their helper had gotten hurt, it was only right that they help them in return.
They followed the trail of fluid spatters for almost half an hour before they reached another clearing, nestled at the base of a cliff. A hopper, a familiar looking hopper bearing recognisable company logos that had been partially scratched out, was parked in the clearing, its main hatch open. Mensah could see missing panels exposing some of its inner workings, answering the question of where the spare parts their benefactor had left them had come from, but she didn’t spend any time thinking about that. Instead she hurried over to the open hatch - she could see another worryingly large spatter and smear of the strange inorganic fluids leading up the ramp. There was no sign of movement though, no hint that anyone had noticed their not at all stealthy approach.
Fear clutched at Mensah’s heart as she hurried up the ramp, and its grip only tightened when she got a clear look inside.
There, curled on its side on the hopper floor, was a humanoid figure, liberally smeared with blood - both its own and the hostile fauna’s - and the strange inorganic fluids. What was left of its skin-tight body suit was shredded, stained with mud and dirt and more blood and fluids. Massive wounds covered its body, long slashes and bites, enough to have killed a regular human several times over. Mensah could see glints of metal beneath the wounds, where flesh had been torn off to expose the underlying metallic skeleton. And its face–
Half its face was gone, and looked like it had been for a while. Only scorched looking metal around a blank, unblinking eye remained, the metal’s edges oddly softened as if it had been briefly exposed to heat strong enough to start melting it. No wonder it never wanted us to see it, Mensah found herself thinking.
Beside it, lying by one outstretched arm, an in-built energy weapon still half-extended, was an emergency med kit, partially opened but still inactive and unused. And in the corner of the hopper, the blankets that they had left out for their benefactor lay in a neat little pile, like they had been used as a cushion or backrest.
Mensah hadn’t noticed the others following her, too preoccupied by what she was seeing, but a sudden curse from Gurathin broke her out of her horrified reverie. “It’s a SecUnit,” Gurathin said from where he was peering over Ratthi’s shoulder, his voice sharp and brittle. “That explains a lot.”
“What–” No. No time for questions now, they had to help it. If it could still be helped. Questions could come later. “Is it still alive?”
“I don’t know. SecUnits can survive a lot, but this…” He edged his way forwards, squeezing between Ratthi and Pin-Lee, and took the scanner that Mensah offered to him. Mensah watched tensely as he scanned the – the SecUnit, Mensah reminded herself – and then eyed the readings. “Power core looks to still be online. I can’t tell much more than that though,” he offered after a moment.
“Then we can still help it.” Mensah found her mind working properly again, rapidly considering options. “All right, we need to get it back to our ship and into MedSystem. Overse, see what you can do with the emergency med kits in the meantime. Gurathin, help her with its mechanical systems if you can.” Overse hurried up the ramp into the hopper, already reaching into her satchel. Gurathin hesitated for a moment, glancing between Mensah and the SecUnit, then nodded sharply and knelt beside its body. “Everyone else, give them space. Look around for anything useful. We need to construct a stretcher–”
“It’s going to be too heavy for that,” Gurathin commented from his spot beside Overse. “We’ll need to use a travois instead.”
Mensah nodded. “Right.” She turned to the others, still gathered around the base of the hopper’s ramp. “All right, you heard him. Let’s get to it, people.” They quickly dispersed, investigating the clearing around the hopper for anything useful they could use. Mensah remained at the top of the ramp, gathering her thoughts.
“This u-unit is a-at min-min-minimal function-on-ality and it is re-re-recommended that you di-di-discard it.”
The unexpected, uncanny, unnatural voice made Mensah jump slightly and spin around to look back into the hopper. Overse had rocked back on her heels, looking just as startled, and Gurathin was grimacing. They’d heard their mysterious friend speak, occasionally, from the depths of the shadows by the ship, but its voice had usually been soft, gentle, pleasant (when it wasn’t being deadpan or sarcastic about something stupid one of them had done) - it had never sounded like this. “Y-y-your contract allows…” It trailed off into silence.
“Automatic response, I think,” Gurathin responded to Mensah’s questioning expression. “Triggered by catastrophic damage.”
“It wants us to just leave it behind?” Overse sounded horrified.
“It’s a SecUnit, I don’t think wanting comes into it,” Gurathin replied blandly as he went back to what he was doing in his attempts to stabilise the SecUnit. Overse quickly followed suit with the med kit. “If I had to guess… I’d say there was another survey group on the planet at some point, and this unit was part of it, but got abandoned along with this hopper for some reason when they left. Maybe something happened that meant they had to leave in a hurry.”
“And it’s just… been here on this planet by itself the entire time?” Overse’s hands were gentle as she manipulated the med kit. “They just left it behind to fend for itself?”
“They probably didn’t expect it to survive them leaving in the first place.” Gurathin’s voice was grim. “SecUnits usually have a… distance limit to their clients. If the distance limit is violated, their governor module terminates them.” Overse made a horrified little noise, which Mensah felt like echoing, but Gurathin continued on. “I won’t be able to tell until I can get into its systems, but I suspect it probably managed to deactivate its own governor module somehow before it could kill it.”
“Well, I’m very glad it did so, both for its sake and ours,” Mensah said calmly, even though she wanted to scream a little. “We are going to help it, and when we get rescued, we are going to take it with us, and do whatever we can for it. After all it’s done for us, it deserves that much, at the very least.”
Overse nodded in emphatic agreement. “Absolutely. We probably would have died without its help. We definitely wouldn’t be in as good a state as we are now.”
Gurathin pursed his lips, but said nothing. Mensah didn’t miss it though, and she raised one eyebrow slightly at him. “Concerns, Gurathin?”
“I have lots of concerns,” Gurathin deadpanned. “But no, not about this. I agree that we should help it. If it had any desire to hurt us, it would have done so by now.”
“I’m a… terrifying murderbot…” Mensah, Gurathin and Overse all jumped at the unexpected words from the SecUnit, soft and whisper-quiet. It hadn’t moved. “But… promise… I won’t hurt you… please… don’t turn… my govmod on again…” It fell silent, the expression on what was left of its face blank and empty.
Mensah drew a shaky breath. “Well. That settles it. We are definitely not turning that horrible governor module on again.” She steadied herself, gave Gurathin and Overse a reassuring smile, and tried not to think about all the reasons an abandoned SecUnit could have to want to hurt any humans it came across.
Eventually they got a travois rigged up, made out of sturdy tree branches and metal struts from the hopper, lashed together with cabling also stripped out of the hopper. They padded the travois with the blankets, and once Gurathin and Overse had agreed that they’d stabilised the SecUnit as much as they could out here, they managed, after a considerable amount of effort (Gurathin had been right, it was heavy) to get it onto the travois.
It had seemed to wake up, or almost wake up, a few times as they’d tended it and tried to move it. It had flinched away from their touch, small, weak movements, trying to get away, until Overse and Arada started murmuring gentle reassurances to it, explaining what they were doing, why they were carefully tying it to the travois so it wouldn’t fall off. It was impossible to tell if it had heard them though, or if it had just gone offline again.
Mensah quickly came to hate that unnaturally level automatic voice, the one that kept suggesting the unit should be abandoned, that abandoning it would only incur a minor penalty fee from the company. Judging by the expressions of her team, she wasn’t the only one. After the fourth time it had started to spout that nonsense, Mensah had snapped, “Shut up. You shut the fuck up. We are not going to abandon you.”
It had, much to her and everyone else’s surprise, shut up.
And then, in a much more familiar voice, but thin and strained, it had whispered, “I’m sorry.”
It had fallen unresponsive right after that, and didn’t speak again for a long time.
Even with the aid of the travois, transporting the SecUnit all the way back to their ship was hard work. They took turns pulling the travois, with the others clearing the path of undergrowth and obstructions as much as possible so it wouldn’t snag on them. Even so, they all had to stop and rest occasionally, sipping water from their water bottles and chewing on the few ration bars they’d had left that they’d brought with them.
During one of those breaks, Mensah was sitting beside the travois, listening to Ratthi as he sat beside her and chatted quietly at the unresponsive SecUnit, telling it stories about his teenage exploits. He had paused mid-sentence though when the SecUnit had shifted, ever so slightly. “SecUnit?” Ratthi asked after a moment, watching it expectantly.
Silence. The SecUnit had stopped moving, and Ratthi’s expression fell. Then it spoke, again with that soft, familiar voice, thin and strained. “Please… don’t be scared of me.”
Mensah’s eyes widened, and Ratthi blinked, then hastily began to reassure it. “Of course not! You’ve helped us so much, we could never be scared of you!”
But there was no further response, no movement or whisper. Ratthi gave Mensah a forlorn look. She gently patted his shoulder in a gesture of comfort and reassurance, then stood back up with a wince and a stretch. “All right, let’s keep moving.”
It was a massive relief to everyone when they finally got back to their ship. The SecUnit hadn’t spoken again, hadn’t even twitched, and Mensah could feel her concern for it growing by the second. They got it to the MedSystem as quickly as they could - Arada, Ratthi and Pin-Lee hanging back to explain everything that had happened to Bharadwaj and Volescu.
Overse and Gurathin took charge of MedSystem, making the adjustments necessary for it to be able to work on the SecUnit. They gently removed the last remnants of its body suit, helped MedSystem clean off all the dirt and dried blood and fluids, then let it get to work. Mensah sat in one corner of Medical, out of the way, watching and worrying, until MedSystem’s privacy field activated, hiding its work on the SecUnit from view. She took the time to organise shifts, so someone would be in Medical at all times to watch over the repairs. She resisted the urge to put herself on the first shift - she was exhausted, everyone who had gone out was exhausted. Bharadwaj and Volescu got the first two shifts, while everyone else cleaned up, ate, and went to get some rest.
All they could do now was wait, and hope.