Aftermath

Rubble’s spear crackles with blue electricity as he hurls himself forward, slamming it into the Skelloid’s side. Sparks sizzle through the slime, the stench of scorched slime filling the air. The monster staggers, roaring.
          “Halo!” Thorn bellows. With both hands he drives his spear upward into its knee. Bone cracks, slime sprays, and the Skelloid howls. Its massive arm sweeps down in retaliation, claws catching Thorn and hurling him backward. He crashes into the dirt, tumbling into his horrified team. 
          Lightning rips open the sky, casting the battlefield in violent white. The Black Skelloid’s slime shimmers like oil under the fractured moonlight. 
           It lifts its hand. In its palm, Halo lies curled up tight in pain. The clawed fingers close around her, squeezing until her scream cuts through the thunder. 
          Rubble doesn’t hesitate despite the pain. He sprints, dragging his spear against the ground. Sparks trail behind him. With a burst of speed he vaults into the air, driving the weapon into the creature’s chest. Electricity flares, blinding bright against the black ooze. 
          He shoves his hand into the seething slime, gripping bone slick as glass. Using the ribs as a ladder, he climbs higher, hauling himself up toward the monster’s skull. 
          The giant creature drags Halo’s legs toward its mouth. Its jaws unhinge, opening wider. 
          Then it bites down. 
          Pain detonates through her body. Halo screams, thrashing in its grip as rows of teeth sink into her flesh. The world tilts, dizzy and blurred, as she desperately tries to find something to hold on to. 
          It doesn’t just tear away her skin. Black ooze seeps into the wound, burning hot, spreading beneath her flesh like fire turned liquid. 
          “Let her go!” 
          Rubble slams his electrified spear into the Skelloid’s skull. Lightning explodes across its head, sparks crawling over slime and bone. With one hand locked around the spear, he kicks furiously at its massive jaw, shattering it’s teeth. 
          The monster shrieks, its grip faltering. Its jaws crack open, loosening around Halo. 
          Rubble lunges, reaching for her, just as the creature reels back in pain, dropping her. 
          He doesn’t let go. 
          They plummet together, crashing into the ground. 
          Rubble gasps, forcing himself onto his hands and knees, then crawls toward her. 
          He stops cold. 
         Halo lies sprawled in the mud, her arms streaked with branching black lines that pulse faintly, veins of corruption burning beneath her skin. 
          Rubble stares, shock cutting through him even as the monster roars above them. 
          “She’s—” 
          “Cover them!” Thorn bellows, his rifle smoking as he empties round after round into the Skelloid’s face. Rubble’s spear still lodged in its skull, crackling with fading sparks. 
         The team surges into formation, spears slashing, rifles blazing, driving the monster back one furious step at a time. 
          Rubble doesn’t hesitate. He scoops Halo into his arms, her limp body pressing against his chest, and bolts through the open gap in the fortress wall toward Ossamaris. 
          “Fall back!” Thorn roars again, firing until his rifle clicks empty. 
          The Black Skelloid shrieks, a piercing promise of vengeance, before staggering away. He vanishes as quickly as he came. Darkness swallows its dark frame again. 
          The battlefield falls silent. 
          The team scrambles after Rubble, finding him on the ground beyond the breach, back turned, cradling Halo in his arms. 
          “Is she okay?” Yumi breathes. 
          Rubble doesn’t answer. His body shields her from view, his shoulders rigid, trembling. 
          Thorn approaches cautiously. “Rubble…?” 
          Rubble lifts his head. His face is twisted with something caught between grief and disbelief. 
          Where the Skelloid’s teeth tore into Halo, there is no blood. No exposed bone. 
          Only metal. 
          Beneath shredded skin, torn plating gleams in the rain, wires sparking faintly. 
          “She’s one of them,” Benji whispers, the words barely audible. 
          The silence that follows lingers heavy in the air. 
          “So she really was the traitor this whole time,” Cinder snaps, disgust dripping from her tone. 
          The team splinters at once, voices rising in a chaotic swell, trust unraveling faster than Thorn can rein it in. 
          Rubble holds Halo tighter, shielding her even from the people she once called her friends. 
          Rubble’s voice cuts through the storm. “She’s not the enemy.” His glare blazes across the group, daring any of them to argue. 
          Their voices falter. Silence falls. 
          Dosei kneels beside Halo, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “These wounds look unusual, even for an android.” He presses a tentative finger to the black residue coating her metal frame. The hiss is instant. He jerks his hand back. “It’s burning!” He frantically scrubs his palm in the puddles near his knees. “It’s some kind of acid!” 
          “Get her cleaned up,” Thorn orders, his voice clipped. 
          Rubble doesn’t wait. He lifts Halo again, carrying her through the rain to the bathhouse. Inside, lantern light flickers against damp wooden walls, the scent of soap and steam lingering in the air. He lowers to one knee beside the empty tub. 
          “We have to get her out of this,” Yumi says firmly. She snatches scissors from a shelf and cuts away what remains of Halo’s shredded clothes. Rubble eases her down into the porcelain tub, then turns aside, lowering himself to the floor with his back against the cool curve of the basin, giving her privacy. 
          Yumi lifts the hand-held shower head, testing the stream with her palm until the water runs warm. She leans down, rinsing the black acid from Halo’s wounds, watching as it streaks away in curling trails down the drain. 
          She puts away the hand-held and turns on the main faucet, water filling in the tub. The steady rush of water turns the room hazy with steam. 
          “I want to make sure I get it all,” Yumi murmurs, her voice low. 
          Rubble nods without looking. 
          “Did you know?” she asks softly. 
          “No.” His answer is rough, steady. “I had no idea.” 
          They fall into silence as the water level climbs, inch by inch. 
          “I’ll add bubbles,” Yumi says after a moment, a small smile flickering across her face. “She likes those.” 
          “She’ll like that,” Rubble whispers, almost to himself. 
          Yumi turns off the tap, the surface of the water stilling around Halo’s battered frame. “She’s going to be okay,” she says, gentle but certain. 
          Rubble closes his eyes, breath shaking. “Thanks, Yumi.” 
          “I’ll be back with some clothes.” She slips out into the storm. 
          Halo’s eyes flutter open. Her head lolls, sluggish, the water sloshing faintly around her as she struggles to sit up. 
          She lifts an arm out of the tub. Metal gleams where skin should be. Her breath hitches. 
          “No!” The word tears out of her throat as she jerks upright, splashing foam aside. She lifts her other arm, and finds the same horror. 
          Rubble twists toward her instantly. “Hey, it’s okay.” 
          But she isn’t listening. She flails, shoving bubbles away, staring at her legs beneath the water, metal, jointed, inhuman. 
          “Oh my god!” Her panic spirals. Her breaths come quick and shallow, chest heaving. “But I… I’m not an android!” 
          Her voice breaks in denial. She curls forward, wrapping her arms around herself, plunging the metal back under the water as if hiding it could erase the truth. 
          Rubble sits on the floor beside the tub, his face stricken. Then, gently, he reaches out. His hand settles on her trembling shoulder, warm and steady. 
          Fear churns in Halo’s stomach, fear of exile, fear of losing this fragile home she’s only just begun to build, fear of herself. Her fingers trace the cold seams of her exposed joints, trembling as though the truth might cut her. 
          “Am I even alive?” she whispers, lowering her head to her knees. 
          Rubble leans closer, gently brushing her damp hair back, tucking it behind her ear so he can see her face. His voice is steady, quiet. “Do you consider me alive?” 
          Her green eyes flick upward. “Of course.” 
          “Then you are too.” 
          The words still her. A tear slips down her cheek, vanishing into the steam curling from the tub. 
          “I know I signed up for this,” she admits softly. “I knew what it meant, to upload my mind into an android’s body. It meant I got to live. But when I woke up here, I was so relieved I was still human.” Her voice cracks. “I was wrong. And now… it feels like something’s been taken away from me.” 
          Rubble listens, silence heavy between them, not sure how to ease her pain. At last, he raises his hand. “What makes you who you are is what’s in here.” he taps gently against her forehead, “And what’s in here.” Then he moves his hand to her chest, over her heart. “You’re still you. The same brave, funny, compassionate girl. Nothing can change that.” 
          Her gaze searches his, raw, unguarded. 
          Steam curls between them as she leans over the edge of the tub. Droplets slide down her body as she reaches for him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a trembling embrace. 
          Rubble draws in a sharp breath, then places his hands tenderly on either side of her face and presses a gentle kiss on her forehead. 
          For a moment, the world narrows to the warmth between them, the world outside forgotten. 
          “It’s going to be alright.” 
          The bathhouse door creaks open. 
          Halo startles, releasing Rubble and slipping back beneath the blanket of bubbles. 
          “I got some clothes,” Yumi calls, her eyes still fixed on the folded shirt in her hands as she steps into the bathroom. She looks up and brightens. “Halo! You’re awake!” 
          “Yeah,” Halo answers softly. She lifts her arms from the water, metal gleaming in the lantern light. “Look at these.” 
          “I know, they’re pretty cool,” Yumi teases, grinning to soften the weight in the room. “Let’s get you dressed.” Then she shoots Rubble a sharp look. “Out.” 
          “Okay,” he says quickly, lifting his hands in surrender before backing out of the room. 
          Yumi helps Halo into the fresh clothes, patient and gentle. When they’re done, Rubble reappears, sweeping her up in his arms without a word. He carries her through the quiet compound to the barracks and lowers her onto her bed. Tucking the blankets around her shoulders, he murmurs, “Get some rest.” 
          Instead of leaving, he sinks to the floor beside her, resting his head against the edge of the bed. 
          Halo turns toward him, sliding one hand free from beneath the covers. Rubble looks up, then curls his fingers around hers, metal against flesh, warm against cold. 
          The barracks creak with the storm. No one sleeps soundly. Every shift, every restless breath is steeped in unease, as though the entire room is waiting for something to break.