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Indah had sort of already known about the SecUnit. It was hard not to, when it was the only reason her wives and her twin were alive. But she hadn’t really realized it had been the one to save them a second time. Arada and Overse had come back from the planet to see Pin-Lee and the others, make sure everyone was okay, check in. She’d figured the refugee was part of that in an abstract way, with Arada’s tendency to care about everyone, even people she’d never met.
And then Overse sat her down that evening while Arada was out grabbing dinner, and said, “So, Mensah asked us not to tell anyone until it was sure it was going to stay, but her security consultant with the memory issues? That’s SecUnit.”
Indah took a deep breath. She had opinions. She’d had a lot of opinions, during the months leading up to the survey, the long weeks without her family, the horrifying month waiting for news while they were stuck on the port dealing with lawyers, the even longer six weeks while Arada and Overse came home but Pin-Lee didn’t. SecUnits weren’t safe. She’d never trust it.
But opinions mattered far less than the fact that the three most important people in her life were still alive because SecUnit had saved them.
She let out her breath, and said, “Do you trust it?”
“With my life.”
“Then I can live with it.” And she could. Station Security would need to know, and she’d have to set up contingencies, and it would really be easier if it wanted to leave again, but that all was a problem for after her compassionate leave ended.
“I don’t care about SecUnit,” Indah said, glaring at her twin even as she nodded to Mensah. This wasn’t quite a work meeting now that she’d covered her pre-planned points. “I wouldn’t be pissed if you’d told me with enough time to put an actual plan together.”
“That’s understandable,” Mensah said. “And I understand why you want restrictions on SecUnit’s autonomy, but I don’t believe what was requested is reasonable.”
Pin-Lee bit her tongue and Indah resisted the urge to spit something out about Pin-Lee’s lack of impulse control. “I’m aware,” she said instead. “I’d like to ask that it remain on the planet, away from the people pushing for those restrictions, for the time being–”
Pin-Lee gave her the world’s worst glare, which Mensah stopped with a look.
Indah sighed. “I wasn’t done. I’d like to ask that, but I think we both know that would go badly. Instead, is there something all of you are willing to compromise on? At a minimum, a promise not to hack station systems would go a long way.”
There was a moment’s pause as Pin-Lee subvocalized, probably with SecUnit. Then Pin-Lee said, “It can do that. In emergency situations, I assume that would not apply?”
Indah sighed again. “Actual emergencies only, and I need to be notified after the fact. In return, I won’t block it setting up cameras in private spaces or using its drones in public as long as you’re reasonable about it.”
Arada had explained just how much it needed extra inputs to function, and Indah could understand accessibility. Just as long as it wasn’t in her systems violating privacy without permission.
“Reasonable?” Mensah asked.
“Let people know if they’re entering a surveilled private area, respect requests to leave someone alone, drones stick close enough that you’re not surveilling the whole station at once. If we have to up security, those restrictions will change, but I’m not sure in which direction. Fair?”
Pin-Lee subvocalized again. “Fair. You’re not saying as much shit as you were talking earlier.”
“Yeah, well, if I’d had a couple months to figure all this out in advance, rather than dealing with it as people are scaremongering, we could have done this the easy way. Instead, I’m stuck balancing a whole hell of a lot of security concerns and other people will have my job if I don’t at least try to get them dealt with.”
Pin-Lee rolled her eyes. “I don’t feel sorry for you. You chose this.”
Indah scoffed.
“I think that’s all we need to get through for now,” Mensah said. “SecUnit has made enough concessions that the concerns should be settled for now, and if not, we can renegotiate later.”
“Fine.” We’re not on totally different sides here, Indah sent to SecUnit’s feed. You saved a lot of people I care about, and that does you a lot of credit. I have concerns, but a lot of the shit I’ve been giving Pin-Lee about this isn’t my choice to bring up.
It didn’t answer, but Arada had also said something about that being normal for it. Indah shrugged her jacket off and over her arm, then hurried out to avoid Pin-Lee.
Arada took a shaky breath and squeezed Overse’s hand. “But you’re alright, babe?”
“I’m one of the few who didn’t get hurt,” Indah said. “Mensah and Pin-Lee are fine. The assassins didn’t get them.”
“And SecUnit?” Overse asked, touching Indah’s hand.
“It’s in medical, but it will be fine. It’s bullheaded and stubborn but it made sure nobody died. Not even the handler.”
That was a compliment. Arada nodded numbly. If SecUnit had made it to medical, it would be fine. If Indah hadn’t needed medical, she would be fine.
“Was that a compliment I heard, darling?” Overse teased. “Because bullheaded and stubborn sounds remarkably like another security person I know and love.”
Indah, for all her confidence, spluttered. “It did well today,” she finally admitted.
Arada nodded again. “I’m glad.” She took a steadying breath and said, “You’re okay to go home? I want– we were so worried and I need to know you’re really alright.”
Indah stood up from the chair she’d been sitting in. She was about Arada’s height, maybe a bit shorter, but she looked tiny right now. Exhausted.
Arada opened her arms in silent question and Indah nodded. She hugged Indah tight against herself, protection for her wife who had put her life on the line for their friends and colleagues and all of Preservation.
Indah let out the breath she must have been holding subconsciously. “Love you too.”
Indah had done the post-traumatic-incident therapy before. Station Security personnel had to do it every time they had a traumatic event, or they got referred to medical for more of it. And she was out on leave for two weeks just like everyone else, although since she hadn’t been injured she was the top of the on-call list and wouldn’t be out longer than that.
(She’d recommended trauma treatment to Mensah and the council, of course, and to SecUnit, who definitely wouldn’t even consider it. But they weren’t in her chain of command, so she couldn’t order it.)
But even counting treatments and what work she was allowed to do at home, she still had two empty weeks of boredom ahead. Overse was up on the station with her, Arada was down on the planet dealing with some survey prep, and it wasn’t as if Indah had ever had much of a life outside of work, but somehow trying to do anything of that sort and not think about work was near impossible.
“You’re thinking again,” Overse called from the kitchen. “I can hear you pacing. Do you need a hand?”
“I’m fine.” Indah consciously brought her feet together, standing still like a recruit.
“Babe, I know you,” Overse said, coming out of the kitchen to hug Indah from behind. “You’re not just worried, you’re brooding.”
She sighed, leaning her head back into Overse’s chest. “I wasn’t even injured and I need to get back to work. GrayCris could be back any second, while we’re so weak…”
“How likely is that, really? I know you asked people to look into it.”
“The nearest point they could stage out of, realistically, is Port FreeCommerce. SecUnit said the handler’s original transit plan didn’t have an end date, but it would take two weeks for him to get back there and another two weeks to send more assassins once they realize he didn’t come back. We kept it out of the newsfeed, under the circumstances, so it won’t make it back there for another several thousand hours, and I put Matif, Farid, and SecUnit on figuring out chances of a second attempt. Initial guess is about 80% and likely to decrease. GrayCris’s falling apart fast.”
“And even if there’s a second attempt, it won’t come for at least two weeks, maybe a month. They wouldn’t want to send a second attack if the first one succeeded.”
“Yah, well, there’s still a chance, and every moment we prepare–”
“Is a moment you’re not spending getting better. How many of your people are actually going to be up to protecting the station physically right now?”
Indah didn’t answer. Overse was right.
“You’re scared, love, and that’s not useful right now. What can you actually do?”
She shifted around to actually look at Overse. “I don’t know. Everything needs to be checked. The handler rolled over yesterday after Planetary Security talked to him but nobody will let me see the transcripts till I’ve been signed off on to get back to work. I had to threaten Pin-Lee with Mom to get her to start a trauma treatment, which means Mensah and SecUnit definitely haven’t even thought about it. Arada’s on the planet, you’re both leaving in under three months, and I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t come back this time.”
Overse hummed. “I was wondering how much of this was anxiety.”
“Fuck off, you’re not my therapist.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say to her wife, but also, tricking her into listing off all of the things worrying her wasn’t fair either.
Overse laughed, though, and hugged her tighter. “You know your people are good. They’ll check things, and half of them have probably already started a list of potential security holes they’re going to make sure are closed.”
Indah nodded, not interrupting.
“Planetary Security’s holding that transcript because it’s probably not something you want to see while on mandatory leave, but babe, anything that was an actual problem, you’d have found out about immediately, they do know how that kind of intel works.”
“Yah. And Elie likes me, he’d worry about me wanting to shoot our detainee.”
“Exactly. As for trauma treatments, ask Arada to ask Mensah about it, and if Mensah goes along with it, SecUnit will too. That’s all you can do.”
“And if Pin-Lee doesn’t go, I’m telling Mom.”
“See, you can do something about that. Your mother scares me.” Overse broke the hug to tuck Indah’s short hair behind her ears and squeeze her shoulders. “And… we can’t really get off of the survey now, but we can do something about the safety thing? You could come along as security, there’s space in the budget and plans for it because SecUnit isn’t sure it doesn’t want the job.”
“If I leave, this station goes to hell. That’s not happening.”
“Fair. Do you– it would feel safer if you knew we were prepared? My weapons certification is up to date, and Arada’s probably mostly over her objections right now and would be willing to take the training. Especially if you taught it.”
“That might help,” Indah said. “And… thanks for dealing with my anxiety shit.”
“I love you too, babe, and that includes your anxiety.”
Indah hadn’t hesitated before assigning herself to the Spotless Rose with Pin-Lee and Mensah to go to the coordinates the transport’s buoy had given. The crew had kidnapped her wives and she needed to be on that ship. No way in hell she’d be stuck here waiting this time.
And yeah, it could be a trap or a suicide mission, but somehow Indah didn’t think so. She’d listened to that buoy and it sounded desperate. So she’d delegated her job to her second for the next two to three months, made sure Mom and Uncle knew where she’d be (with Pin-Lee, on a rescue mission), and shoved a week of clothes and her extra weapons into her suitcase.
“I’m coming with you,” she said, catching up to Pin-Lee on the docks. “Don’t bother protesting, I’ve already confirmed with the responder crew and they agreed.”
“You’re security senior. You should stay,” Pin-Lee said, but it wasn’t her actual persuasive voice, it was the performative one.
Good. They both knew no force in hell would keep Indah off that ship. Pin-Lee might be taller, barely, but Indah had a lot more experience in close combat, a baton and a not-exactly-authorized knife concealed in her jacket for quick access, and an energy weapon she’d signed out from inventory ten minutes earlier in a locked box in her suitcase.
(Look, half of the older Security staff carried knives, and the scanners ignored authorized security officers carrying anything less than an energy or projectile weapon. In all her years in admin Indah had dealt with exactly one case where someone had actually pulled that knife on a person, and they’d reported it themselves.)
(And, well, most of the issues she’d had with SecUnit’s energy weapons weren’t that it was carrying a weapon without being on her staff, but that it was carrying a ranged weapon openly and the only thing that passed for a safety was its own willpower. Whoever had designed SecUnits, an actual physical safety hadn’t appeared to have been any kind of priority.)
“My wives are on that fucking ship and I’m not going to come back without them,” Indah said, and Pin-Lee raised her hands in surrender.
“Not stopping you, just saying.”
“Well, other people can do my job, they can’t rescue my wives.”
The responder pulled up to ART’s module dock, and Mensah came aboard with Pin-Lee and what the fuck why was Indah here. There was a lot of noisy greetings and hugging and exclamations and introductions. And, oh, Indah was kissing Arada and then Overse, and I guess that explained it.