The climb back from the basement was a slow, grating process. Arbor moved with mechanical precision, testing each foothold in the unstable rubble, while Rhaene followed with significantly less grace but significantly more brute force, kicking larger fragments of debris aside to clear a path. Behind them, the little boy crawled along, his tattered gown whispering over the broken floor.

  Rhaene glanced back, her three eyes narrowing. The kid was sniffing at a chunk of concrete, his head tilting with animal curiosity.

  “Hey, no,” she said, her voice cutting through the damp air. “That’s not food. It’s gross. Understand? Gross.” She mimed gagging, sticking her tongue out. “Blech.”

  The boy ignored her, bringing the concrete to his mouth and scraping his teeth against it with a sound that set Rhaene’s own teeth on edge. The worst part was, he was actually making some progress with it, little chunks of concrete crunching and cracking in his mouth.

  “Arbor are you…”

  “Reinforced dentition or artificially enhanced jaw strength is improbable in humans,” Arbor stated, not looking back from his careful navigation. “They’re much more fragile than you demons. The concrete is likely just brittle from whatever occurred. He’s a known variable.”

  “He’s a weird little bugger, is what he is.” Rhaene muttered, turning back to the path ahead.

  They emerged into the main corridor of the ground floor. The gray, ashen light from outside felt almost bright after the basement’s gloom, painting stark stripes across the devastation through holes in the ceiling. The boy paused as they entered a broad patch of sunlight illuminating a large pile of rubble from a collapsed section of roof, the light pouring in through a hole that looked vaguely like a collapsed section of roofing. The kid went perfectly still, then tilted his head back, his matted blonde hair falling away from his face, and stared directly into the sun.

  His blue eyes didn’t squint. They didn’t water. They just absorbed the light, the pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

  “Kid!” Rhaene barked,. “What are you doing? You’ll burn your eyeballs out!”

  The kid didn’t react. He seemed transfixed, a faint, almost peaceful expression settling over his grimy features.

  Arbor’s head rotated with a soft whir. “No protective reflex. His ocular tissues are either uniquely adapted or severely damaged.”

  “He’s gonna be blind damaged if he keeps that up.” Rhaene as she climbed the mountain of rubble to make her way to the boy’s resting point, but before she could, the boy blinked rapidly. A thin, clear fluid trickled from the corner of one eye, cutting a clean track through the grime on his cheek. He let out a soft, pained squeak, rubbed his eyes fiercely with balled fists, and then dropped back to all fours, bumping clumsily into a fallen beam as he scrambled back down the mountain to them, disoriented.

  “See? Told you,” Rhaene said, though her tone lacked its usual edge. She watched him shake his head, the moment of vulnerability unsettling her more than his earlier strangeness.

  The silence between them as they moved on was heavier now, filled with the unspoken question that had been hanging in the air since the basement. The ruined hallway seemed to press in, demanding an answer.

  “So,” Rhaene finally said, her voice lower. “We’re really just gonna… walk out of here with him?”

  “No, we leave him here.” Arbor replied, his focus on a precarious section of flooring ahead.

  “And then what? He dies and feeds the scorps out here? And we go to Lord Vexa ‘Here’s a single datapad’?”

  In a particularly bad impression of Lord Vexa. “Oh Arbor and Rhaene, you didn't happen to see a kid there? There’s a bonus in it for you if you have!”

  “He is a biological asset of the facility. He does not fall under the purview of salvageable assets we were given,” Arbor stated, his logic circuits offering no inflection.

  Rhaene’s jaw tightened. “He’s not an asset. He’s a kid. A messed-up, probably dangerous kid, but a kid. You saw the others down there.” The image of the small, still forms flashed in her mind. “He’s the only one left.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “That does not diminish the risk he represents, nor does it alter our contractual obligations.”

  “Obligations?” Rhaene stopped, forcing Arbor to halt as well. The boy, scurried past them a few feet and crouched, watching a dust mote drift in a sunbeam. “Our obligation is to not be complete shitheads, Arbor. We can’t just… recycle him for parts.”

  “I did not suggest ‘recycling’. I suggested not getting involved, as per our agreement. His fate becomes the world’s concern, not ours. It is the logical, professional course of action.”

  “It’s the coward’s course.” The words hung in the dusty air. Rhaene crossed her arms, her yellow eyes glinting behind her sunglasses. “You’re scared of what Lord Vexa will say if we show up with a “special variable”, huh?”

  “I am incapable of fear. I am capable of assessing mission-critical complications. He is a complication.”

  “He’s a person.”

  “Debatable,” Arbor said flatly. “His behavior patterns are non-standard. His sustenance sources are aberrant. His communication is non-existent. He is, at present, a biological anomaly with unknown potential for volatility.”

  The boy, as if bored with the dust mote, began quietly chewing on the frayed sleeve of his own gown.

  “He’s listening to us argue about him,” Rhaene said, her voice dropping to a growl.

  “Unlikely. He lacks the cognitive framework for comprehension.”

  Before Rhaene could fire back, Aren stopped chewing. He looked up from his sleeve, his gaze drifting between the two of them. His head cocked. He opened his mouth, worked his jaw silently for a moment, and then a sound emerged, rough and unpracticed.

  “Ah… rrr.”

  Both of them fell silent.

  The boy touched his own chest with a small, dirty hand. “Ah-ren.”

  Rhaene felt something cold and sharp unlock in her chest. She slowly knelt down, ignoring the grit on her knees. “Aren?” she repeated, softly.

  The boy, Aren, blinked at her. He didn’t smile, but the blankness in his eyes receded a fraction, replaced by a flicker of… attention. Recognition of the sound.

  “Aren,” he said again, more sure. He looked past her, at the robot. His brow furrowed slightly, as if searching for a sound. He pointed a tentative finger. “Ar… boh?”

  Arbor’s optic lights brightened a degree. “Correct. Designation: Arbor.”

  Aren looked back at Rhaene, waiting.

  “Rhaene,” she said, tapping her own collarbone. “Rhaene.”

  “Rrr… een.” It was garbled, but it was an attempt. He then looked down at the piece of jerky she’d given him earlier, which he’d apparently tucked away, now half-pulled from a pocket in his gown. He held it up. “Ah-ren. Rrr-een. Ar-boh!”

  Aren smiled and clapped his hands at his accomplishment, staring at Rrr-een and Ar-boh, waiting for their reactions.

  “Well,” Arbor said after a long moment, his vocal modulator almost sounding subdued. “That changes shit.”

  “Told you he was a kid,” Rhaene whispered, a fierce, unexpected pride swelling in her. She looked up at Arbor, her expression triumphant. “So. Still just salvage?”

  Arbor was silent for several seconds, his internal processors emitting a barely audible hum. He looked at Aren, who was now carefully placing the jerky back into his pocket, patting it securely. A bizarre gesture from an even stranger child.

  “The contractor’s primary interest is in data and unique material,” Arbor finally said, his tone shifting into something more analytical, less dismissive. “A sentient, communicative survivor… constitutes unique data of significant potential value. The risk of transporting him is offset by the increased likelihood of a bonus for recovery of intact test subject zero.”

  Rhaene’s triumphant smile turned into a smirk. “So you’re saying he’s worth more alive and talking.”

  “I am saying his status has been re-categorized from ‘hazardous waste’ to ‘high-value intelligence asset.’ The mission parameters can accommodate this.”

  “You are such a stubborn, rusty pile of bolts,” Rhaene said, standing up and brushing off her knees. “But fine. We’ll call it a business decision. As long as he comes.”

  “He comes,” Arbor confirmed, turning to continue picking a path through the ruins. “But you are responsible for keeping him from chewing on the hull during transit.”

  “Deal.” Rhaene looked down at Aren, who was now watching them both, his head swiveling between them as if following a silent conversation. “You hear that, kid? You’re with us. Try not to eat anything not meant for eatin'.”

  Aren didn’t smile. But he uncurled from his crouch and padded after Arbor, falling into step behind the robot with an eerie, instinctual understanding. He paused once to look back at Rhaene, his blue eyes catching the light.

  Rhaene followed. They walked out of the corpse of the research station, the robot, the demon, and the feral boy, leaving the silence of the dead behind for the uncertain noise of the world ahead. The sky was still heavy and gray, but the thick clouds of ash from the fire that would soon become relevant were gone.