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When the gunshot rang out, Hank froze. It was instinct, born of years of police work. A couple of seconds waiting for the gut punch of an impact, then the awful settling dread as you realised it wasn’t you.
It wasn’t you, but you didn’t know who it was.
Hank span, locating the source of the sound.
There was a guttural grunt as Reed shook off his own shock and tackled the deviant from behind. They both dropped and the gun skidded out from beneath them.
Hank blinked, just about catching up.
He was going to have words with Reed. Just throwing yourself bodily at an armed suspect was not exactly in the police manual.
He scanned over the scene again. Chris was on his feet. The rookie uniformed girl was too. Hank couldn’t remember her name. He oughta find it out. It wasn’t fair, not knowing her name.
No one was shouting. There was no “Officer down!” and for a second Hank let himself breathe. Let himself believe that the shot had gone wide.
And then he saw Connor.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
He was walking over before he knew it. Felt perversely like he should be doing something. Shouting. Running through his ABC. Radioing for help.
He felt numb.
Connor had dropped to his knees, hands hanging limply against the concrete. And it was creepy as fuck the way dead androids just fucking froze in place. He’d look like he was awake if it wasn’t for the blue blood staining his shirt collar.
He looked like he’d started to turn towards the suspect, maybe he’d half seen the movement, the deviant pulling the gun.
As he got closer, Hank could see that the bullet had entered just behind Connor’s left ear.
“Shit, kid,” he said again.
Connor suddenly spasmed, and Hank nearly fell backwards in shock. He could see the red of Connor’s LED.
Not dead.
Connor was making a noise like a computer starting up. His eyes started flicking from side to side, not seeing anything that Hank could. His hand stuttered as he lifted
it from the ground and for some reason it was that that got Hank to pull his head outta his ass.
“I need some help over here,” he called over his shoulder. “Connor? You hear me, kid?”
Connor’s eyes stopped flickering. His hand stuttered again. “Hank?”
Hank dropped into a crouch. “I’m right here, son.”
“Left audio processor non-functional.” His voice was consumed by static towards the end. “Hank?”
He shuffled so he was more on Connor’s right. “What do you need, kid?
“I… I can’t feel my legs. I…”
The kid wasn’t looking at him, which made him wonder if he could see anything at all, but Hank didn’t miss the wide eyed fear that was there. His hand fluttered upwards again and this time Hank caught it.
“It’s alright, kid.”
Which it wasn’t. But Connor was lucid which already made it a Hell of a lot better than the last time he’d asked Hank for help. Androids were made for replacement parts, weren’t they?
“Gonna get you fixed up, okay?”
Speaking of which, Hank glanced around to find Chris and the other officer hovering awkwardly.
Hank felt his patience snap. “Are you listening to me? I said I need some goddamn help!”
“Sure thing, boss.” Chris nodded. “But… how..?”
Well, shit. There wasn’t exactly EMTs for androids.
“Get CyberLife out here or something!”
Chris nodded again, more decisively, and turned away as he spoke into his radio.
Connor was squeezing his hand weakly.
“Connor? I’m still here, okay, kid?”
“I’m alright,” Connor said, and Hank was forcibly transported back to the top of Stratford Tower. Connor hadn’t sounded particularly convincing then either.
But Hank nodded. “I know, son.”
“I need…”
“What?”
Connor didn’t answer, but he tugged his hand away. He brought it up to his right temple and for a second Hank thought he was checking his LED. Then there was a click and…
“Wha-? Urgh! Connor, that’s…”
“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled as he turned his entire fucking right eye over in his fingers.
Hank tried very hard not to throw up. Or to look at the gaping hole in the side of his partner’s head. “Are you sure you oughta..?”
“I’m alright,” Connor said again, more confidently.
He was feeling his way around the part, focussed off somewhere in the middle distance, which kinda confirmed that he couldn’t see out of the left.
There was a click under his fingers, and as quickly as he’d pulled it out, he slotted the part back in.
Hank actually saw the iris constrict as it came back online, like a fucking camera lens focussing, and decided to nope out of that nightmare fuel. Connor finally looked at him.
“You okay?”
Connor blinked a couple of times. “The repair is sub-optimal.”
“No kidding? You just pulled your eye out of your head.”
“Hank?”
Hank glanced over his shoulder at Chris. “Yeah?”
“Techs are five minutes out.”
Hank shot him a thumbs up. “You hear that, kid? Not long.”
Connor hummed a little, pushing gingerly at the ground. “My lower motor systems aren’t responding.”
“Here.” Hank tugged him up a little so he could sit back, and then straightened his legs out. “How’s that?”
Connor shook his head.
“Techs’ll be here soon.”
Connor didn’t look convinced, and Hank didn’t know how android anatomy compared with humans, but he’d started out in highway patrol. It might be thirty years ago but you didn’t forget what shock looked like.
He made a deliberate effort to calm himself down.
“It’s a neat trick, fixing your eye like that. Can think of a few times that would’ve come in useful.”
One pretty big fucking time, actually, but no way in hell was he going down that road right now.
He opened his mouth to pull some other distracting bullshit out of his ass, but Connor interrupted.
“I’m sorry, Hank.”
Hank frowned. “What for, kid?”
“You don’t like it when I’m replaced. I was trying to avoid it.”
“Hey, hey!” Hank squeezed at his hand. “Don’t talk about that, okay? You’re fine.” He forced a laugh. “If you could not get shot in the head again though, I’d appreciate it.”
Connor was picking at the fabric of his pants, looking a fucking picture of misery. “Hank, I don’t think-”
“What’s this piece of shit done now?”
The new guy coming over had a CyberLife uniform on, and Hank absolutely did not miss the way Connor flinched at his voice.
Hank got to his feet instinctively. He didn’t know whether it was the cigarette clutched between his stubby fingers or the sneer across his face, but he knew when to trust his gut. And his gut said to put himself between this asshole and Connor.
“He was shot,” he said shortly.
“What? Again?” The tech flicked his cigarette away. He sighed. “RK800, system report.”
“Left audio processor and left optical unit non-functional. No relay from inferior motor systems. Right audio processor at 42% ef-”
“Alright,” the tech cut him off, and sucked in a breath through his teeth that made Hank want to punch them into his mouth.
“Yeah?” he said instead.
“Don’t need to hear any more. Write off. Which means more shit from my boss. Fucking shitty test models.”
Hank blinked. “What?”
The tech was already fishing another cigarette out of his pocket. “It’s the motor relay interface. It’s a shit to reintegrate with the positronic AI. The RK800 has a memory upload system, so it's cheaper just to download that into another model and use this one for parts.” He took a drag off his cigarette. “Quicker too. Can have you a new model by tomorrow morning. Latest software upgrade as well.”
The tech clapped him hard on the shoulder. “I’ll get the truck round. Then you fellas can get going.”
Hank just stared after him.
A write off? Connor was sitting up. Was talking.
Stripped for parts?
He had the sudden awful image of Connor, his partner, strapped down as they cut him up. In his head it was more like a butchers shop than a technician’s office.
He turned around.
Connor was watching him. His good eye scanning twitchily over his face. “It’s alright, Hank. I know you don’t like the replacement models, but if you leave before I’m deactivated then it’ll be just like I was repaired.”
“Christ,” Hank said, he wished it was something more coherent. “I’m not gonna just leave you. I’m…”
He had an intense clarity of thought that this wasn’t fucking right. It wasn’t right, even if he couldn’t articulate why.
He knelt down, took Connor’s hand back. “Kid, he’s goin to kill you.”
Connor frowned. “I can’t die, Hank. I’m not alive.”
“That’s bullshit. Why didn’t you shoot those girls?”
Connor opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I already told you.”
Hank was shaking his head. There wasn’t an answer. There hadn’t ever been an answer but the one he hadn’t wanted to see.
All he knew now was that Connor had begged him for help before, when Hank couldn’t do a damn thing about it. And when he’d got back from CyberLife he’d been just a little bit less Connor than before.
And Hank didn’t care.
Didn’t care if Connor was alive. If he was deviant or not.
He’d seen too many goddamn dead androids, too many dead people, and he was damned if he was going to see Connor dead again.
This was bullshit. The whole thing was bullshit.
And he was sick of being on the wrong goddamn side.
He leaned over so he was speaking directly into Connor’s good ear. “Kid, do you know where Jericho is?”
He was so close that he felt Connor turn, the side of his face brushing against Hank’s hair.
He didn’t answer and Hank knew. If a state of the art prototype wasn’t answering it was because he didn’t want to.
“You gotta help me out here, kid.”
Hank swallowed against his dry throat. It was now or never. But he knew he’d already made his decision.
He’d made it back when Ortiz’s android had talked about not being able to fight back when that piece of shit had beaten the hell out of it. When those two girls had talked about getting fucking raped daily, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, because somewhere along the line someone had decided they didn’t count as people.
Hell, he’d made his decision way back the first time Connor had smiled at him. Really smiled. Not that fake ass shit he’d been programmed with.
Well, he was sick and fucking tired of hunting people who just wanted to be free.
He leaned back close to Connor’s ear. “Kid, do you trust me?”
“Yes,” the kid answered fucking instantly.
“Did you find Jericho?”
He felt Connor exhale a breath he didn’t need. “Not for certain.”
Good enough.
Hank sat up. “Okay, am I gonna be able to lift you?”
Connor’s head snapped up. His one eye doing that weird twitchy scan again. “What?”
“Kid, we are really pushed for time here. Will I be able to pick you up?”
“I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I don't have the information required to…”
Hank groaned and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Look, I don't need an analysis here. If I try and carry you outta here, am I going to make a dick of myself? You aren't like 200 pounds of steel or something?”
“No, it should be within the acceptable parameters for a male of your age and build.”
“Great.”
He hadn’t really thought this through.
Fuck it.
He hooked his arms beneath the kid’s legs and back and forced himself up. His knees almost gave out getting out of the squat, but once he was up momentum took over.
Connor gave a grunt and Hank felt his fingers clutch at his jacket.
“Sorry, kid. Hold on.”
He blanked for a second on where he’d parked. His legs were shaking. Connor felt like dead weight, and Hank found himself just muttering platitudes under his breath.
But they were gonna fucking make it to the car.
They were.
As he rounded the corner to the car, he felt Connor’s head slide limply off his shoulder. His grip started to slip.
“Shit. Come on, kid.”
He shifted the weight, trying to get a better balance, and felt that the back of Connor’s shirt was damp.
“Connor?”
The kid’s eyes were closed and where his head was thrown back, Hank could feel the wetness soaking into his coat sleeve.
Fuck, they had to keep moving.
They’d left a trail. Blue blood spotting behind them. So much for a surreptitious getaway.
Maybe Hank shouldn’t have moved him at all. His stomach turned over at the thought that he might have dislodged something inside Connor. That maybe he was bleeding out. Shorting out the wiring inside his brain.
“Connor? Come on, son.”
He tapped at the kid’s face until he got a staticky “Hank?”
“Yeah, kid. Yeah. Hold on, alright?”
He slung Connor’s arm back over his shoulder and hauled him up again under his knees. He turned back to the car, just in time to see Chris stood directly in front of them, his hand on his radio.
Hank’s brain stuttered and came up on nothing.
He watched as Chris’s eyes flicked over his face and over Connor in his arms.
He could feel his heart hitting the inside of his ribs.
And then Chris just... nodded once, like he got it, and walked away. Just turned and walked in the opposite direction.
Fuck, Hank could kiss him.
He stumbled the last few steps over to the car, and dropped Connor into the passenger seat. He tugged the seatbelt over him, so he didn’t just slither right out of the door again. “Alright, I got you. Let’s get out of here.”
***
“Kid, I’m not joking, I just stole a fortune’s worth of equipment from your bosses, so you better wake up and tell me where the fuck we’re going?”
Hank had just floored it out of there.
But this was going to be the world’s shortest chase unless he had somewhere to go, because right now he was coming up blank, and Connor was fucking bleeding out. Shit. Fuck!
“Connor!” Hank shoved at his shoulder with his free hand, and was met with a faint moan. “Come on, kid. I need directions, right fucking now, okay?”
“Hank?”
“Yeah. It’s me. Jericho. Directions, now.”
Connor’s head lolled painfully. “What?”
“Jericho.” Hank shook him again, without taking his eyes off the road. “Connor, I’m not fucking around here. We gotta get off the grid before we get reported.”
Before you just fucking shutdown in my fucking car.
He didn’t say that.
It probably wouldn’t be helpful.
Connor hummed a little. “Check your phone.”
“What? Shit!” He felt his phone buzz and fished it out of his pocket. “What? Are these coordinates? Connor? I don’t have GPS in my fucking head, Connor! Fuck!”
He pulled off into an alleyway because he was going to crash this fucking car if he tried to work this out on the move.
“Connor, wake up, you hear me?” Hank shook his shoulder again. “System report, or whatever.”
“Hank?”
“Yeah, kid. Tell me what’s happening.”
“I got shot.”
Hank nearly punched the dash, but then Connor rallied.
“Low thirium.” Connor lolled over to face him. He looked tired. “I’m alright. I’ll go into stasis. But I’m alright. I won’t shut down.”
“Right, alright,” Hank pulled up his phone’s GPS and plugged in the coordinates. “This is Ferndale, yeah?”
Connor had closed his eyes, but he nodded. “I’ll take you the rest of the way.”
Hank wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t have a whole lot of choices at this point. He leaned over into the back, and snagged one of Sumo’s old blankets off the seat. “Ball this up against your head. Stop your brain falling out of your ears.”
For once Connor did as he was told.
Great.
Hank put the car into drive, and tried to convince himself that he was imagining the sirens in the distance.
***
Hank drove until he hit the barriers of the dry dock.
“Kid, I can’t get any further with the car.”
“Alright.” Connor sounded a hell of a lot more tired than he had the last time he’d spoken.
Hank got out of the car as quickly as he could manage. He was definitely going to feel it in his back tomorrow. He scooped Connor up again. Tried to keep the kid as upright as possible. He was relieved when he felt Connor grab onto his jacket again.
“Which way?”
He could feel Connor’s simulated breath against his neck.
“Go through the barrier.”
Connor’s directions were seemingly random and Hank would be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind that Connor was too out of it, was just following some looping programming in his own head.
But he sucked it up and tightened his grip.
He didn’t have any choice.
For the first time, though, he was glad that this area of the city was so sketchy. No one was likely to question him carrying an unconscious android through the streets. Especially not now the low sun had dropped behind the skyline.
Hank reached a dead end, coming up against a dilapidated building.
“Kid, which way? Connor?”
He glanced down. Connor’s eyes were shut. His LED was cycling lazily. Still red.
Hank jostled him a little. “Connor? Which way?”
Nothing. He still had a weak grip on the collar of Hank’s coat, but nothing that indicated he was capable of giving an answer, even if he was conscious.
“Shit. Okay, son, I get it, it’s on me.”
The wind was starting to cut through his thin coat. The temperature was dropping rapidly and he had not dressed with the intention of traipsing around the streets all night.
They had to be close now. He could work this shit out. He was a goddamn detective. He could go around the building, it was a clear route, or he could force his way through the fence on the other side, on the edge of the dock. The fence had a whole heap of pallets and junk pulled in front of it. Too deliberate to be just a dumping area.
He headed for the fence, figuring that if he was going to try and hole up somewhere, he’d try and block the route behind him, and as he got closer he could see that the snow around the debris had been disturbed.
It had been neatly done. Snow kicked back into place to hide it, but there was no fresh fall to hide it, and it had frozen into peaks and troughs that were just a little bit unnatural.
“Bingo,” he said under his breath. “Might be slower than you, kid. But I get there.”
He had to lay Connor down so he could clear a path through, and it felt so wrong laying him out on the icy sidewalk. Even more wrong that the kid wasn’t shivering or breathing.
For all he was an android, he looked dead.
And Hank did not miss the fact that the ice beneath him was stained a neon blue when he picked him back up.
The wire of the fence had been cut neatly, which he took as another sign he was on the right track. By the time he managed to drag them both through, trying to keep Connor from getting tangled in the wire, his hands were scratched up and numb with cold.
He half wanted to give in and just collapse against the brick, give himself five minutes to catch his breath, but he wasn’t stupid. And that was how you fucking died in temperatures like this.
He groaned and forced himself up.
“Alright, kid. Let’s go.”
When he pulled Connor’s arm back around his shoulder, he felt the kid clutch on to his jacket again.
“Hank?”
“Yeah, Connor.”
“‘S cold.”
“Yeah, kid. It is.”
He wished he’d thought to grab Sumo’s blanket out of the car.
He groaned as he straightened up, took a second to fight his way through the black veil that dropped across his vision. He breathed deep until it cleared, and then he kept on walking.
There was a freighter, floating in the half flooded dry dock. It looked like it was about three seconds away from sinking, but there on the side the name ‘Jericho’ was soldered onto the metal.
Thank Christ.
He was about ready to drop to his fucking knees.
He scanned the ship, but he couldn’t see any easy way on board. His legs were shaking with the effort of just standing upright. He was too fucking old for this bullshit.
“Hey!” His voice echoed off the metal. “I know you’re watching me!”
He hoped to Christ someone was. But there was no way, no way that the deviants were leaving their secret headquarters unguarded. They broke into Stratford Tower like a bunch of fucking spies, for fuck sake.
“I… I need your help.”
There was no response. Just the wind biting through his coat.
Connor mumbled something Hank couldn’t make out. The kid still had his eyes closed. Hank hitched him up so he was no longer in danger of slumping out of his hold. He looked pale, like a sick kid, and it kinda made his heart ache.
He didn’t know what to do. How long could he wait here? He couldn’t go home. That would be the first place they’d search, and they’d take Connor, and they would...
He didn’t know where else he could go. Couldn’t exactly check into a motel with a half dead android, not the way the city was on high alert. Even the shadiest places in town would report them in a heartbeat. And as much as he bitched about his colleagues, he had absolutely no doubt that they would’ve tracked his car down by morning.
This was their last fucking shot.
But what if they were wrong?
What if Connor had got it wrong? And there was no one here at all?
Hank’s body temperature was dropping rapidly. Connor might hold up better than him under normal circumstances, but now? Bleeding out and fucking unconscious?
“Shit,” he said, and listened to that echo across the dock as well.
They couldn’t stay here.
Just as he decided to cut their losses and head back to the car, he heard footsteps from one of the buildings on the side. Three androids emerged. Hank recognised Markus easily enough from their files. The other two he didn’t know.
Relief flooded through him and turned his legs numb.
He stumbled a couple of steps forward. “I’m Lieutenant Hank A-”
“We know who you are,” Markus interrupted him, coldly, “and him. Why are you here?”
Hank blinked. He didn’t know what he expected, and exhaustion was making him slow on the uptake. “He… he was shot. He needs your help.”
One of the androids, the girl, laughed. “The deviant hunter? Why would we help him? Or you?”
Hank scanned across their faces. The other man looked more sympathetic, but he could tell in an instant that neither him nor the woman were calling the shots here. He had to get through to Markus.
“He’s… he’s one of you. They were goin to deactivate him. They-”
“Good,” the girl said, “one less traitor hunting us. Markus, come on, it’s a trap. You know it is. We can’t let them give us away.”
Hank felt like his legs were going to give out. He tried to lock his knees. Wondered, vaguely, emptily, if this was how he was going to die. Executed by deviants because his stupid ass had decided to care at the worst possible time.
He wished his voice would stop fucking shaking. “He’s been protecting you.”
“He’s been killing us.”
Hank ignored her, stared directly at Markus. “He knew your location. He was supposed to hunt you down. He could’ve given you up.”
The girl laughed. “He led you here, didn’t he?”
“North,” Markus cut her off.
Hank laughed, aware that he was beginning to sound a bit unhinged. “You think if he’d given them your location, they’d’ve sent one old drunk? They’d’ve sent the fucking marines!”
“H’nk?”
He could feel Connor shifting against him, tightening his grip against his coat. Hank hoisted him up again. “Hold on, son.”
His LED had stopped cycling and was on a steady red. Hank didn’t have a goddamn clue if that was good or not.
He heard Markus sigh. “We’ll take him. He’ll be safe here.”
The other male android stepped forward. Held his hands out and Hank instinctively pulled Connor away.
There was that gut feeling again. He was fucking done trusting people’s word.
He tucked Connor up to his chin. “Kid stays with me.”
The girl, North, laughed. “Yeah, not happening.”
“What are you going to do otherwise?” The other android was still holding out his hands. “You’ve got nowhere else to go. We can help him. We’ll hide him, if he wants to stay.”
“You think I’m just gonna hand him over?”
North was scowling. “We don’t want humans here. Markus, let’s go. We’re just giving them more time to call in backup.”
Hank felt a pit start to open up underneath him.
“Wait! Wait, look,” he hoisted Connor up again, trying to get the kid to grip on tighter and then carefully reached for his service pistol. He pulled it out gently, praying he wasn’t about to get taken out by some fucking sniper. He held it out to the side. “Look. Here. Take it.”
There was a pause before the other android leaned forward to slide it out of his grip.
He shifted Connor’s weight again, stifling a groan. Kid might be lighter than a grown man oughta be but Hank’s strength was rapidly giving out.
“See. I’m not armed, okay?”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not dangerous,” Markus said, levelly.
“No… but it means if I’m lying, you’ve got me as a hostage.”
There was a long silence. Even he didn’t know why the fuck he said that, but something in Markus’s face softened. “Alright. Come on.”
Hank almost thought he hadn’t heard him right.
The other male android reached out again. “Let me…”
Hank tightened his grip, felt Connor squeeze back against his shoulder. “No. I got him.”
He thought he might have seen Markus smile.
***
The inside of the freighter was cold, even huddled up next to the lighted trash can. Hank’s back was killing him, but sitting on the floor was marginally better than standing.
Connor was next to him, laid in something approaching recovery position, just because it looked more comfortable than flat on his back. Hank didn’t suppose androids cared much either way.
He’d given in and rested his hand in the side of Connor’s hair. Maybe it was taking a liberty somewhere, but he’d just hauled the kid halfway across the city, and he was human goddamnit. He needed some way to remind himself that Connor was still kicking.
He let his head drop backwards against the wall. Christ, he could sleep for a year.
He might’ve drifted a little bit, because he was pretty sure he woke up when he heard footsteps next to him.
When he opened his eyes, Markus was looming over them, looking like something out of a fucking movie with the firelight behind him.
“How is he?” he asked, without seeming to check Hank was awake.
Hank glanced down. Connor was exactly where he left him.
“No change.” His voice sounded like he’d smoked his way through a whole pack of Chesterfields. “They said he’s in stand-by or some fucking thing. They said it’s good.”
Markus hummed in a way that told him that wasn’t the right term. He crouched down next to them, and pressed his palm against Connor’s arm. Hank still hadn’t quite
got used to to the way their skin seemed to melt away from the point of contact.
Markus released him, and sat back on his heels. “He’s not in any danger. He’ll wake up when we can replace the thirium he’s lost. We’re low in supplies of everything…”
He trailed off, chewing at his lip, and Hank was struck by how much more human he looked than he had outside the freighter. Connor could do that too, flick between machine blankness and looking so fucking young and goofy that Hank could barely believe it.
He wondered whether all androids did that, or if these prototypes were something different.
He looked down at Connor, and couldn’t help but remember the fear on his face when he couldn’t move his legs. “What about everything else?”
He heard the shuffle as Markus sat down from his crouch, legs crossed, in about as obviously open body language Hank had ever seen. He smiled faintly. “He’ll be alright, Lieutenant.”
“Hank. I’m pretty sure I just resigned.”
Markus smiled, properly this time. “He’ll be alright. We can patch him up. He might have to put up with the optical unit and the audio processor for a while, we don’t have a lot of parts and your friend is pretty unique.”
Hank nodded. “Will he walk?”
Markus smiled again. “Of course.”
“The tech said… Shit… it doesn’t matter.” Hank rubbed his hands over his face.
He could feel Markus still watching him. “Humans weren’t the only ones repairing androids. We’ve got experts. And we’ve got plenty of time.”
Hank nodded behind his hands.
Time and cost meant nothing in comparison with a life. CyberLife only cared about convenience.
Markus must have been sat there a long time.
Hank fished his keys out of his pocket. “You’ll want to dump my car. I couldn’t get too close, but they’ll be looking for it.”
Markus leaned across to take them.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
Hank shrugged, and dropped his hand back against Connor’s head. “Go ahead.”
“What made you come here?” Markus nodded down at Connor on the floor. “You must have known the reception he’d get, and you’re… you’re not one of us.”
Hank looked at Markus, staring at him so earnestly. He reminded him of Connor. Less naive, perhaps. More worldly.
But even so...
Hank swallowed tightly, and thought about it. “You saved Chris Miller.”
Markus frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.”
“I know,” Hank said, “but you saved him anyway.”
He saw exactly when Markus understood.
“What about you? Why’d you change your mind?”
Markus was still watching him intently, then he nodded towards Connor. “You care about him. I think… I think I needed to be reminded that not all humans hate us.”
Hank smiled. “Yeah, well, I think you’ve got cause.”
“I meant what I said,” Markus nodded towards Connor again, “his place is here. As long as he wants to stay.”
Hank nodded, because he didn’t really have anything to say in the face of this level of sincerity.
“What are you going to do now?”
Hank frowned. “Me? I thought I was stuck here.”
“You’re not a prisoner, Hank. Though I’d be lying if I said people wouldn’t sleep a little easier if you didn’t leave.”
Hank shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be, except…”
“What?”
“Sumo. My dog.”
Markus smiled. “I like dogs. We can send someone to pick him up, if it’s not safe for you to go back.”
“Why?”
“I like dogs,” Markus said again. He pushed himself smoothly to his feet, and as he looked down at him, Hank had the familiar feeling that he was being scanned. “I’ll see if I can find Josh with that thirium. Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Your core temperature is below optimum.”
Hank rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re as bad as the kid.”
Markus held his hands up, with a smile. “I’m sorry, force of habit. I wouldn’t want to step on his toes. Get some sleep.”
And then he disappeared into the darkness of the ship.
Hank could see why people followed him. Kid had some charisma.
He looked back down at Connor, curled up against the concrete, with that stupid flick of hair that never laid flat.
Goddamn androids making him give a shit.
He smiled, and hoped to God all these fucking kids weren’t gonna die down here before they ever got to live.