Synth

“Greetings, Civilians.” The synth said in that strange, almost mechanical voice. Its tone was as sharp and cold as it ever was, chilling every civilian viewer. “My assignment ID is Ark-88. I am broadcasting this Galactic alert from orbit over Arkane, which many of you know is the base of the Despair Insurgency.” There was an unnatural pause in the synth’s speech, which who were watching assumed they were simply allowing the small civilian at their side to catch up with the galactic signing. However, any who had come into contact with the synths before knew that it was just how they spoke.

Another argument for them being robots: the strange lapse in conversation.

“They sent here me with my superior officer Ark-87, after completing my training. Our assignment on this planet was simple: to discover the leader of the insurgency and bring them to justice.” Another pause, but this time if one looked carefully they could almost see the helmet turn down, as though the synth was looking down at its hands.

“That, clearly, did not happen.” The synth spoke simply, then seemed to look offscreen in silence for a moment. They gave a slight nod before lifting their arm and pressing at something on their wrist.

The armor dissolved away, seeming to have gotten sucked into a small black bracelet around their wrist. In most homes across the galaxy, anyone watching the broadcast drew in a quick breath, holding it in silence as they looked over the creature which they had just learned was a synth. In seconds, the idea that synths were mere robots fell apart. Many of those who believed that synths were biological beings were surprised to see them looking far less bug-like than they expected.

A few young children pointed and said “Bat.” In their own languages.

The camera shifted, and there was a shout from off camera. Shadows and lights moving off screen hinted at the flurry of activity happening around them as the synth held onto the desk before them, their eyes wide and their ears down.

“We have civilians on board!” The synth said. “We have innocent children, parents: we have families! A fleet of synths has just opened fire, and if they keep this up, everyone on board is going to die!” The synth’s voice was now so much different from before and though it still had that odd, mechanical twang to it, it was so much more fluid, so much more natural.

“Shield’s up.” Another synth said off screen, “Go on, DH, you’re doing good.”

The synth, DH, nodded and turned back to the camera. “As I said, we have multiple families on this ship, and many children. King Decon’s orders at this moment involve killing everyone on board this ship!”

A few more shots hit the ship, the shaking far less intense than before, but then, inexplicably, the shots stopped. DH was quiet for a moment, then took a breath and continued on.

“It’s not just this ship that’s in danger.” DH said as they gestured behind them to Arkane and the ships waiting above it. “It’s the planet that they’ve decided has to go. Apparently, the insurgency has been around too long, and it’s gotten too hard to get rid of. Decon is apparently sick of dealing with it.” They pointed to a large ship which most people watching never would have seen before; one with several rings circling around a huge, fiery orb. “That thing is a Terraformer, and it can absolutely make a planet unlivable. Decon wouldn’t just blow it up: the surrounding moons are too valuable for mining, but he would kill everyone on it just to save face and keep the rest of the galaxy quiet.” They faltered. “It’s something about uh… about it inspiring other insurgencies or something. I don’t know: the point is, it’s embarrassing to King Decon that the insurgency has lasted this long, so he wants to erase any knowledge of it!”

They were quiet for a few minutes, breathing heavily as their ears flicked rapidly. “And… And look: I get it. I just told you I’m a synth. I was wearing the armor, and Now I’m telling you all that synths want to destroy a planet. It makes no sense, right? Well… well, that’s because I’m not a normal synth. There’s lots of us who aren’t normal: maybe even some who are watching this now!” They leaned forward, “And if you are-“ They switched to another language, one composed of a strange series of clicks and syllables that seemed to be created by inhaling and exhaling at the same time. There were a select few who could understand what DH was saying though, and despite the odd language the person at their side continued signing away, “If you’re a synth, and if you’re like me, then watch my ears: you’ll know I’m telling the truth”

Silence hung for several seconds, as though the synth, DH, was gathering up their courage to speak. “For my entire short life, I’ve been told I am a synth whose only purpose, the only reason for being, was to serve King Decon. Friendship, love, freedom... those were all things I was supposed to be happy to sacrifice for the privilege of working in his service.” They stopped, and shook their head, “No, they were things I wasn’t supposed to feel at all. I, and all other synths, are supposed to be free of such feelings for the good of the galaxy.” They gave a laugh which sounded strange to most of the civilians listening, as they seemed to breathe in and out rapidly as they did. “It was something we owed to King Decon for creating us. But...” They paused again and looked away from the camera. The synths who were watching, those who were in a position to stop what they were doing and watch the broadcast, could easily see the anxiety in DH’s ears, and in the way their wings now wrapped around their arms. Those who could be considered perfectly normal felt a strange, sinking dread in their stomach. Those few that never quite fit in though - a Repair Officer who had this way of seeing solutions to problems that nobody else could find, a certain Medical Officer stationed on a training base, and a clever young synth in special training, hoping to become one of Decon’s Vanguard- Watched the broadcast with a strange sense of hope and peace, and the same thought running through their heads,

“I’m not alone”

Some had known before, others had no clue, but they all felt that same relief.

“King Decon...” Another moment of hesitation, and even those who didn’t communicate with their ears could see the fear in DH’s face, “King Decon did not create synths.” They said, “He stole us. He took DNA from some place in his long life, and used that to make us, cutting out parts of our minds and -“ their ears pinned back, “And stealing our ability to feel, to have friends, to love.”

======

MS-675, the Mothership that provided tactical defensive and offensive support to Terraformer-8, was under the supervision of Commander MS-675. Once upon a time, Commander MS-675 (Simply called Commander aboard the MS-675) had been assigned as an officer aboard the ship, but had outlasted previous leadership and ultimately became the Commander due to their quick thinking, and their problem-solving skills.

They were also very good at surviving, though it hadn’t been easy. Insanity would have been a given for them, feeling as trapped as they did inside their own head. It seemed like they could never connect with anyone, never really understand others, and could never be understood. They stopped trying early, seeing what pushing for that kind of understanding could do to a trainee, but over the years they had discovered a better, safer way to keep their sanity... kind of.

Their chip beeped with an order from Central Command. They flicked the screen up, checking the order while everyone else was staring at the broadcast.

---CEASEFIRE ENDED: CONTINUE ASSULT---

They pursed their lips, their ears flicking down as they read the message. It was only a few moments ago that the order came to stop their attack on what they now knew was a rogue synth ship. It came just after the scarred synth who called themself “DH” said that there were civilians aboard the ship. Now, seconds after DH’s announcement that King Decon had stolen the DNA used to make them, they were once more ordered to open fire.

"Fuck that" Adhara said. Adhara, who was, of course, their oldest friend, their confidant, and one of the voices that they had formed in their head over the years to keep them sane. "There are literal civilians on that ship! Children! They don’t deserve to die!"

perhaps. Commander had to be careful when they spoke back to their friends in their head. Sometimes, if they got too into the conversation, they tended to speak aloud.

“I’m inclined to agree” Auorae said. Auorae was another friend in their head, a more cautious foil to their beloved Adhara. Auorae was the one who always had the logical, practical advice, so it was odd to hear them agree with Adhara.

“You agree?” Clearly, Adhara was just as surprised as Commander was, “You agree with me?”

“To a point” Auorae said, “*I want to hear what this DH has to say, and I don’t want to kill children.”

Commander didn’t want to kill children either. If I ignore the order though...

“If you ignore the order, it’s insubordination” Auorae said, “And we know the punishment for that”

They did. They had seen it before.

“At this point, you have a choice to make.” Auorae said, “You need to decide if you want to die for a handful of civilians, or live with the deaths of civilians and children on your hands”

We...we have killed before. Commander said, but that wasn’t quite right. They had killed enemy ships trying to attack the Terraformer, and before that they had, of course, come up with strategies at the order of their own superior officer.

They had never been facing a ship full of civilians, and had never disagreed with an order so stronger before, while being in a position to ignore that order.

You’ll die too. Commander couldn’t help but feel a deep, painful ache in their chest as they thought that.

There were no words after that; none were needed. Commander could feel what their friends felt; the sense of resolve as they considered what could be their last order.

“Commander?” A nearby officer came up and stood at Commander’s side, “Is there a new order?”

Commander closed down the screen before the Officer could see it. “No, D-37” They said. The formal title for this officer was, of course, MS-675-D-37, but D-37 was easier. “Continue to wait for my next order.”

“Yes, Commander.” D-37 said, and with a quick nod, they headed back to their position closer to the front of the deck.

“Alright. we’re doing this then.” Adhara said, “Well...let’s see what else this DH has to say”

======

“All our lives, we were told we’re tools.” DH said, “Nothing more. And all your life, you were told that you’re lucky! That so long as you do things right, so long as you follow the rules and work hard, that there’s a place for you in King Decon’s Galactic Kingdom!” They stood up, one hand leaning on the table, the other pointing to the planet on the screen, “But how many people on Arkane have been following the rules, had been doing everything they were supposed to, and now they’re literal seconds from global devastation and death! You’d be told it was a natural disaster: an asteroid, perhaps, or even something the insurgency did! but that’s all a lie! King Decon lies!”

They stood there, shaking, taking several long breaths as the civilian next to them, who many on Arkane had identified as Minister Pholi, continued to sign. They stayed silent for a few moments after Pholi’s hands had fallen still.

“...All this, we were told, was for the good of the Galaxy.” DH said, finally breaking the long silence, “All our sacrifices were supposed to be to protect civilians, and to maintain King Decon’s law. But, if an entire planet can be destroyed just to save face, if children can be killed as they try to flee destruction, and if more synths have to go through life believing that they’re broken and worthless just because they love?” They shook their head, and finally sat down, “Then... that’s a kind of law that I can’t fight for.”

DH looked down at their hands, now nervously scratching at the edges. “All the people on board this ship want is a chance to survive.” They said, “All the people down there on Arkane want is to continue to live their lives...” They looked off screen once more, “And... all I want is my friends, my family... and my mate. I don’t want to wake up every day, terrified that I might lose everything that matters to me.”

They looked up at the camera again, “I... am not a Synth. I was, but I’m not now and I don’t want more people to die, and I don’t want to see the people I love get hurt anymore. So please-“ their ears dipped, their big black eyes welled with tears, “Please, just let us go.”