Search and Rescue

    “Have you seen a mainlander, with grey fur, three orange horns, and all-black eyes?” Norvan had asked the question so many times that he didn’t have to think about how to translate it.
    “Let me think...” The undyre Norvan sat across from was a member of the Tonpelli Blues. They had met by chance several hours prior, when the freedom-fighter had spotted Norvan on a patrol and warned him off a trail traversed by cyborgs. Now, they sat by a fire, sharing a meal of roasted wildfowl. “Three horns is a memorable look. I’ve never met or fought anyone by that description, but...” They furrowed their brow. “Did this curio have a single bead in the shape of a triangle or -” The undyre spoke a word Norvan didn’t recognize.
    Norvan’s heart beat faster. Not once before had anyone he’d spoken to shown any signs of recognition. “Yes, I think so. My friend has dark curly hair, brown skin, a scar on their cheek and ear, missing two fingers on their right hand?”
    The undyre let out a heavy sigh. “Then I am sorry to tell you. Your friend is gone. I saw a mainlander by that description, but they were not missing fingers. Their hand was replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic. They have been taken, corrupted.”
    Norvan’s excitement turned to crushing dread. “Surely there’s a chance they’re still in there. I heard there were tech-touched who were not assimilated. That could have happened to them.”
    The undyre shook their head. “Unlikely. When a person is taken, they do not return. Your friend is as good as dead.”
    “You don’t understand.” Norvan grasped at hope. “Montevic is different. Mixed with something. They could have survived. Where did you see them?”
    The undyre looked unimpressed. “It would be a fool’s errand to search for them. They were in Yan-controlled territory; it’s too dangerous.”
    “I don’t care. I’ve come too far to give up.” Norvan leaned closer to the fire, feeling the heat against his face. “Where are they?”
    The undyre scowled. “I saw them a month ago, in the ruins of a village - Taya Bato. Not far from the Singing Arches. You are an idiot if you think you can rescue them.”
    “Maybe. But I’ve got to try. What should I know before I go?”
    “Keep quiet. Don’t try to fight them. If you kill one, more will come.” The undyre spoke carefully. “Taya Bato is more than two days’ walk from here. If you must go, you should go now - they’re near the end of a cycle, less aggressive, less intelligent. And if you find your friend...prepare for the likelihood that they won’t be your friend anymore.”
    Norvan swallowed and nodded. “Thank you. Sincerely. I have been travelling for over a week. Even if they aren’t them anymore...I need closure.”  

    So that’s how Norvan ended up inside tech-touch controlled territory, searching for a person who might be worse than dead. Two things kept him going: the knowledge that a few rare tech-touched could avoid assimilation, and the sunk cost fallacy. He’d walked this far, and now, with the news that Montevic was at least still alive, there was no way he was going to turn back now. Even if that meant lying in a rain-wet depression in the ground, peeking up every few minutes to check if the cyborgs he’d spotted in the distance had passed. Outside of the forest, there was little cover in these grassy hills besides a few scattered bushes. Norvan had chosen to travel at night, on the assumption that the cyborgs probably couldn’t see in the dark any better than he could, but he didn’t want to take chances. One more glance. Still there. Norvan was grateful for the fact that many of the tech-touched had luminous enhancements, as it made them easier to spot in the darkness, but Norvan also had the misfortune of glowing. He’d practiced suppressing his auric particles, but they liked to blink into existence at inopportune times and he feared they’d give away his position. Norvan folded his arms underneath his head and laid belly-down with his eyes closed. His body ached with exhaustion...

    Norvan awoke to rain pattering against his back and a cold night wind blowing over him, sapping the heat from his body. He mentally chastised himself for falling asleep and losing valuable travel time, before remembering the cyborg patrol. Norvan eased himself up from the depression, looking around in every direction, but saw no sight of cyborgs. Shivering, he got to his feet and slung his backpack over his shoulders. Judging by the position of the moons, he’d only been asleep for a couple of hours, so he should be able to get in a few more hours of travel before the sun rose. Ignoring his aching limbs, Norvan oriented himself with the coast and the sky and continued on.

    Miraculously, Norvan made it to the Singing Arches without being spotted by any of the corrupted tech-touched. The Blues member had been right: at this time in the cycle, the cyborgs seemed unfocused, wandering without apparent motive, though their drives were always inscrutable at best. Norvan slept beneath cliffs and ate his rations cold, never daring to light a fire lest he draw attention. He’d been travelling slowly, or else gotten sidetracked, because it wasn’t until late in his third night of travel that Norvan made out the silhouette of broken buildings against the patchy sky. Was this Taya Bato? He couldn’t be certain, but he picked up the pace nonetheless.

    As Norvan gradually covered the distance between himself and the village, he couldn’t help but dwell on his doubts. Even assuming the Blues member hadn’t been mistaken, there was no guarantee that Norvan would still find Montevic in this place - if this was even the right place to begin with. Especially if - especially if Montevic had been assimilated into the hive mind. Norvan didn’t know what he would do if he searched the village and found nothing. Head to Hanto Magnata? Even Norvan knew that was madness. At some point he was going to have to cut his losses and call it quits.
    But not yet. Taya Bato may have been his last lead, but it was still a lead. One last hope.

    Norvan’s paws felt the ground change from grass to packed dirt as he approached the village. He slowed, watching for signs of movement. One of the moons drifted out from behind the clouds and illuminated the scarred ruins of what had once been houses, some with damage patterns that could only have been caused by Ancient-inspired laser cannons. As Norvan reached the nearest house, he reached out and touched the charred, damp wood. Sorrow panged his chest. The tech-touched hive had taken so much from so many people, Norvan included, all for no discernable reason. There was no sense in this war, only mindless destruction. Norvan sighed and carried on.

    Rain began to fall once more, and Norvan hurried through the abandoned town center in search of shelter. So far, he’d seen no signs of life. Either this was the wrong town, or Montevic had moved on. Bitterly, Norvan climbed through a window into one of the more intact homes and stared out at the rain as it turned the damp earth into mud. He shifted backward and placed a hand back to stabilize himself, when it came into contact with something dry and soft. Norvan turned around, unhooked the lantern from his backpack and switched it on, revealing what seemed to be a curio-sized nest of dried vegetation and scavenged fabric. Someone had been living here after all. Norvan couldn’t tell if the room had been recently disturbed, but it was enough to give him hope. Too impatient to wait for the downpour to lessen, Norvan climbed back outside, holding his lantern out.

    “Montevic!” he called out. It felt odd to speak - he hadn’t said a word in days for fear of the attention noise might bring. Norvan caught the sound of wet footsteps that seemed to belong to a creature of curio weight. With trepidation, he moved towards the sound. “Montevic?” He turned a corner. There, glistening in the dim moonlight, stood a figure.
    Norvan recognized the hum of a laser cannon charging just in time to duck out of the way. A brilliant blue beam blasted through a wall, just where his head had been. Norvan shrieked and ran. His paws hit a patch of mud and slipped out from beneath him, sending him to the ground. Norvan scrambled to flip himself around, only to see a tech-touched curio emerging from around the corner, laser cannon glowing.
    Thank the saints, Norvan thought briefly, upon processing the cyborg’s snow-white fur. At least it’s not Montevic. Then, as the laser cannon began to hum again: I’m going to die.
    Norvan had begun to get his feet beneath him, knowing he wouldn’t have time to dodge another blast, when unexpectedly, the cyborg’s lights went dark and its body went limp, collapsing into the mud. 

    Norvan stared at the cyborg’s body, trying to make sense of what had just happened. In the shadows of the night, it looked almost as if its lower body was wrapped in black roots or writhing worms. Norvan’s eyes followed the tendrils up and back to a pool of darkness surrounding two muddy paws. A second figure stood behind the downed cyborg, pale green cracks glowing in its fur. Montevic? Norvan spotted the cybernetic hand with glowing fingertips and froze. Montevic’s face was expressionless, as void of emotion as any other cyborg. Norvan’s heart thumped fearfully in his chest.

    Then recognition and concern bloomed across Montevic’s face as the glowing cracks dimmed. “Norvan?” Their voice was hoarse, unbelieving.
    Slowly, Norvan stood up, glancing briefly at the body at his feet. “Montevic? Are you...still there?”
    Montevic fumbled for the words. “I’m still me.”

    Norvan stepped over the cyborg’s body and flung himself at Montevic, embracing them. Montevic flinched at the contact, then relaxed and squeezed Norvan with an intensity Norvan hadn’t felt in months. After several joyous moments, they let go.

    “We have to go,” Montevic said. “That thing won’t stay down for long.”
    Norvan glanced back at the cyborg and realized it was still breathing. He nodded, still dizzy with adrenaline.

    The two gripped hands, and fled into the night.