Synth

Tham’s heavy breathing stopped, and his coloration darkened dramatically. At first, TO thought that he’d be angry that they had found him in such a state that perhaps he’d attack. That tail could do some serious damage, and TO wouldn’t be able to get out of the way. As the moments passed, it seemed as though an attack was highly unlikely, as Tham seemed simply frozen in place.

TO moved first. They rolled up towards Tham, who looked away and became suddenly invested in the fake leather fabric of the seat. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything as TO approached. Even TO wondered what he could have said at this point to explain what was going on here in any way other than the obvious. Once TO came close enough to the seats, they reached out and picked up one of the bottles. There were several, and the labels on them were all written in synth-speak. Tham wouldn’t have been able to tell what was in them at a glance, but the long, detachable nozzle on the end and the visual instructions on the side would have made it clear that it contained compressed air.

“You know.” TO said, their voice calm and almost indifferent, as though they hadn’t walked in on Tham alone in a secluded part of the ship, crying and trying to huff fumes from compressed air. “I read that these used to be able to get people high.”

The color drained from Tham’s face, leaving him with a full pallor. “Used to?”

“Yes.” TO continued as they shook the bottle and quickly tested the air against the armrest of their chair. “In fact, that was an actual problem among civilian populations even as recently as ten cycles ago.” They looked around and found the lid for the bottle sitting on the seat next to Tham. TO gestured and almost as though in a daze, Tham picked up the cap and passed it to TO. “Even now, if you go to shops with older products or just happen to come across some of this stuff in an old storage room somewhere it could still have the chemicals that can induce that effect.” They turned the bottle over and checked the production date.

“... And they’re not now?” Tham asked, their voice broken and quiet.

“No.” TO said as their ears relaxed, “There was always a way to remove the harmful chemicals from this stuff, but it used to be too expensive and troublesome to do. About ten years ago, a simpler purification system was put in place, something cheap and effective. Health and safety laws were changed and both civilian and synth manufacturers implemented the new technology immediately. Anything made after that time...” They shrugged, “The worse it’ll do is make you a little dizzy from trying to breathe it in.”

“I see...” Tham said, still not making eye contact, “And... out of curiosity-“

“These were made two cycles ago.” TO said, answering his question before Tham had a chance to ask it, “They get used fairly quickly during routine maintenance, so they don’t have a chance to sit on a shelf for very long.”

“I see.”

More silence followed, and after a minute TO made a show of picking up the other abandoned cannisters around the seats while ignoring Tham as he wiped his face with the lower edge of his shirt. TO’s instinct was similar to what they’d do if DH had been crying, or GiDi, or Avery: to hold them, to comfort them and try to make them feel better. Tham was different though, and not as close as the other were. If they had been a synth, then at least TO could have watched their ears to see if such contact would be appreciated or not. Instead, they just listened and when Tham’s breathing slowed, they turned back to them. The script they had in their head was simple: Did they want TO to get Pearla, or they want to talk to TO? Tham had talked to TO before, telling them briefly about Jason, so maybe he’d want to talk again. Maybe Tham would tell TO everything and TO wouldn’t have to worry about pretending that they didn’t know.

Their words fell out of their head when they turned and looked at Tham. He wasn’t crying, no; that would have been better than the detached, broken look in his eyes. Without thinking, TO reached out and put their hand on Tham’s arm, gently squeezing. If they had been closer, or not in the chair, TO was certain they would have embraced him.

It was a good thing they didn’t. The contact between TO and Tham lasted for half a second before Tham pulled away. This tail lashed against the chairs, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at TO. “I don’t need your *pity*.” he hissed.

“Nothing to do with pity.” TO muttered, their ears down as they looked away. Their first instinct was right: Tham didn’t want to be comforted in the way that DH or GiDi or Avery would. The way he reacted seemed more to TO like the way Q10 acted when they fell down that time and DH went to help them up. Why was Tham like this, though? What did Tham have to lose from accepting some comfort?

Civilians were confusing.

“Well, I don’t need your *sympathy*, then.” Tham snapped.

TO sighed, “What about kindness?” TO said, “is that allowed?”

Tham clearly didn’t expect that response, and instead of answering back, he muttered something unintelligible.

“Well… Anyway.” TO sighed and picked up another cannister, “Don’t do this again, got it?”

Tham gave a humourless bark of laughter. “Why not?” He muttered, “You just said it doesn’t do anything.”

“You know what I mean.” TO said, “Don’t… don’t try to…” they frowned at the bottle. “Don’t try to get high, I suppose?”

“If I was on Arkane, or any other planet, I could get plenty of legal drugs-“

“Legal and safe drugs.” TO retorted. “The old stuff in these canisters could get you high, yes, but it could also cause a lot of damage!” They glared at Tham. “Irreparable damage, in many cases.”

Tham huffed again and looked away. “Why do you care, anyway?”

TO knew that the answer they should give was something like “Because I don’t want you to get hurt.” Or “Because people need you” or something like that. All the shows they watched had this as the solution, to tell the person about all the people that needed them and cared about them. That didn’t feel right to TO, for some reason. Tham hadn’t asked why they shouldn’t do this, they asked why TO cared.

Why did they care?

“…. I’d rather you not die on my ship.” They finally said. “Also, your sister is essentially family, and I know she’d be exceedingly upset if something happened to you. Even if it weren’t for how much she’s helped me, I wouldn’t want a member of my family to be upset like that.” They frowned as they considered how Pearla was in fact family now, and how her species, unlike Chilacians, did pay a lot of attention to blood relations. “And I suppose that makes you family as well. As such, I’d rather no members of my family hurt themselves in such a stupid way.”

Tham stayed silent for another moment, then gave another low chuckle. “Well.” He said after a moment, “At least you’re honest.” He sighed as he eyed the cannister. “Fine. I won’t try to make do with unsafe ‘drug alternatives’”

“Good,” TO said as they picked up the last cannister; this one was closest to Tham and TO could tell it was empty. The sound the small little shaker inside made was louder than TO would have liked, and it made them uneasy in the new silence of the hall. “You know.” They said, “I think that might be the first time someone called me honest. I had a reputation for being a deceptive synth back in training.”

Another snort, “You? How?” Tham asked, “Synths can’t lie to one another, so how could you possibly be deceptive?”

It had been a long time ago, but TO still remembered it well. They tucked the cannisters into the little pouch on the side of the chair, pulled out a small can of the sugary drink, and held it out to Tham. He took it after a moment of staring and drank half in a single gulp.

“It was during a training exercise.” TO said as they took out another drink for themself, “And… I was being an idiot.”

=======

A distraction seemed to work better for Tham than any comfort that TO might have attempted to provide, and the story TO told was apparently just the kind of distraction Tham needed. True, they weren’t especially good at telling stories to children, but at the very least the content of their story was enough to keep Tham interested and asking questions. In particular, he seemed exceedingly interested in the simulation itself, and in the games they’d play as part of their training.

“Flit really did that?” He asked when TO was done telling them about the time they deceived their teammates in a simulation, “Why? You won! You found a better way to get to the objective, and when your teammates wouldn’t listen-“

“I wasn’t in charge.” TO said as they gently shook their can, listening to see how much was left. They drank the final drop before continuing. “I wasn’t in charge, and I lied to the team leader-“

“But you won,” Tham insisted. “Isn’t that more important than just respecting the chain of command?”

TO looked down at their can and slowly wiggled the little tab back and forth until it came loose. “No.” they said, “Proper synths… don’t do that. Even civilian forces respect the chain of command. ” They said. ”And it was dangerous in training. I mean, it was a simulation, and I was punished afterwards for it, but things were horrible after that for a while. Other synths didn’t trust me, they looked down on me, didn’t want to work with me… One even executed me in a simulation because they didn’t trust me.” The hard tips of their sheathed claws ran against the can. “Before that, most considered me a ‘good’ synth.” They said. “Weird, but good. Capable.” They frowned, then looked at Tham seriously. “There was a balance, you know? A certain level of ‘strangeness’ was allowed. Most of the higher ups were ‘strange’. But, if you didn’t have the skills to compensate for that….” They shrugged.

“Death.” Tham said, “Or a lobotomy.” When TO looked at Tham in silence with their ears flicked forward, it took him a moment to realize that it was an expression of confusion. “Uh, correction.” He shook his head. “GiDi mentioned that. Laser to the brain. Goretta said that from her research and her understanding it was basically a lobotomy with a laser.”

“Well.. I suppose.” TO said. “If you were corrected, at least you could be used for basic labor. If you couldn’t even be useful that way, you got repurposed."

“Murdered, and your organs harvested.” Tham said. His eyes narrowed again. “I hate how you all don’t call it what it is. You make it sound like you’re garbage being recycled.”

TO shrugged again, “That’s what we were.” They said. “We were things. Tools. We were called tools. What do you do with a broken tool?” They waited for Tham to answer, but when he didn’t TO continued, “You fix it, if you can. If you can’t, you get rid of it. Recycle it. If it doesn’t work or it wears down or breaks or just gets too old…” they trailed off, remembering the one synth in reclamation whose age had slowed him down to the point where they were no longer worth the food they were allowed, the air they breathed, or the space they took up.

“All I’m saying.” Tham said, their change in tone so quick that even TO picked up on it, and picked up on his attempt to change the topic, “Is that Flit should be the last one to punish you for disobedience? I mean, look at them: they were sending us synths for years and plotting with us while training you lot. I’m sure that went against their ‘orders’”

“They also weren’t under constant observation.” TO pointed out. “They weren’t being watched for any problematic behaviour. That gives you more freedom.” they shook their head. “If I had done pulled that stunt around any other officer….” They paused, wondering if such action on its own would actually have led to them being corrected. They were certain it could, but they didn’t know if the officers considered them skilled enough to avoid correction in that situation. “I don’t know that I’d be here now. I don’t know that I’d have survived.”

“Right.”

Silence covered them once more. Why had TO come down here in the first place? Right. They had come down here to try to ‘befriend’ Tham. They weren’t sure how effective they had been so far, but distracting Tham from his sorrows and keeping him from huffing air from a can were likely things that Pearla would have approved of. Still… how would they make friends with him? They recalled everything they could from shows where two characters became friends and while many of the solutions wouldn’t have worked, they recalled one that might.”

“…Do you want to see some of the simulations?” TO asked. “We don’t have the full system here, of course, but we do have basic training games. We could run one together if you’d like.”

A snort of suppressed laughter escaped Tham. “What.. you want me to play video games with you?” TO’s ears warmed as Tham said that, and they recalled that most of the shows they watched with featured the forming of friendships were about children, and not adults. They were about to take it back and change the topic, but Tham chuckled again and shook his head. “Sure.” He said. “Show me what games you got on this thing.”