X-7 is the first to notice something is wrong. Unfortunately, the robot is too late to stop or divert the approach of a large figure from the shadows. The speed of X-7’s processors compute that their current environment, a narrow side passage to the main corridors where guests will travel, is a well-chosen place for unwanted provocations.

The figure lunges forwards, whipping out a pronged device from within a large coat around its body. Elara, being further back along the passage than X-7, is smashed to the floor by the shadow’s force. X-7 becomes the receiver of the pronged device’s payload as the shadow jabs it into her metallic side.

X-7 cries out, but only for a second, as electrical energy arcs across her body and overload her systems. Her four arms thrash, and then fall limp. Her visor goes blank as she falls forwards, only for a thick scaled arm to grab her and pull her back upright.

Elara’s vision refocuses despite a throbbing sensation in her head. She feels her body lying on the floor, banged up but not broken. She sees X-7 in the hands of a tall, muscled alien with serpentine features, golden cat-like eyes, and clawed hands. The alien has an old brown trench coat and ripped Human-like pants on; both stretch over his scaly skin like they are a size too small to be comfortable.

Elara’s vision tunnels down to X-7. She recognizes that X-7 is in danger. She must protect X-7. But she is also hurt, unable to fight. Unable to help.

Elara’s head throbs harder, faster. X-7 is her friend. She must save her friend. She must help her, just as X-7 has helped Elara so often in the past.

A growing voice inside Elara’s mind reminds her that X-7 is also her Mistress. The Mistress must be protected, must be helped, and must be served.

The alien says something Elara does not understand, some language beyond “Basic Tongue”. Elara’s ears, currently full of the rising voice in her mind, do not hear it.

Protect the Mistress.

Protect. Mistress.

Protect. Protect. PROTECT.

Elara stands up with a sharp inhalation. Her eyes slam shut as, with the tug of a mental lever, her mind shifts states. When she reopens her eyes, they are no longer hers.

E-77 looks at the alien, her host body’s eyes glazed over but her facial muscles show a burning anger. The limitations of a human brain are partially circumvented via robotic logic. Commands roar in her computerized subconscious, dictating her actions with undeniable authority.

PROTECT MISTRESS.

E-77 marches up to the larger alien and roughly shoves their shoulder. This gets the alien’s attention, along with a surprised grunt, as they turn around while holding X-7 close.

PROTECT.

E-77 punches the alien in its scaled face, reaching up to deal the blow. The alien steps back, confused and suddenly in pain. E-77 punches them again in the same spot, making them hiss and raise up their hands for defense.

PROTECT MISTRESS. REACTIVATE MISTRESS.

“Reactivate my Mistress, immediately,” E-77 coldly states.

The alien rises to its full height, Elara standing up to its broad shoulders. Its coat peels back a bit as it flexes the large muscles in its torso and arms. “Stay down, silly girl,” it grunts with a masculine, guttural version of “Basic Tongue”.

“Reactivate my Mistress.” E-77 glares at the alien, not intimidated by its display of strength. “If you do not comply, you will be punished.”

The alien laughs, a rolling sort of hiss that reveals its own forked tongue. “How could you punish me, little—GUGH!”

E-77 punches the alien in its torso this time, pushing air out of its lungs. She repeats the motion two more times and then shoves the alien against the closest wall. The impact shocks the alien into momentary silence, its eyes wide with confusion.

“Do you want more punishment?” E-77 asks as if casually discussing the local climate in this area of the ship. The alien shakes its head and wheezes, E-77 keeping her hosts’s hands firmly on the creature’s torso. “Then comply. Reactivate my Mistress, immediately.”

“Delayed… recovery.” The alien’s voice has lost some of its guttural nature, but the deep tone remains as it takes a short breath. “I can’t make it… go any faster.”

“We will stay here until she is fully reactivated.” E-77 grips X-7’s body with one hand, the other poking the alien’s torso again. “Do not incite further punishment,” she warns.

The alien, seeming to recover its strength and some dignity, tries to shove E-77 away with a lunging motion. E-77 counters by pivoting back and then swinging her host body forwards, ramming her fist into the alien again. Gasping, the alien collapses back against the wall and does not repeat the attempt.

“Who are you?” the alien manages to ask as E-77 turns her focus to X-7’s body. The alien is keeping a tight grip on its prize, despite its current injuries.

“I am E-Seventy-Seven. You have harmed my Mistress.” E-77 puts her free hand beneath X-7’s chin, raising the robot’s face so she can look at it closer. “Explain your reasoning to me, and I will show restraint.”

The alien, feeling E-77’s fist pressing against it, complies. “I did not believe the claims. They said you were a robot, but… you’re human.”

E-77 turns her gaze onto the alien. “Who said this?”

“The ones who hired me.” The alien attempts to sound dismissive, but it is not very convincing.

“You were hired? Bounty? Contract?”

“Bounty.” The alien takes another short breath. “If I tell you who, will you let me go?”

“This cannot be promised.” E-77 blinks her host’s body’s eyes, the anger from before starting to fade from the human facial muscles she is using. “I am already lenient by not hurting you more.”

Another grunt from the alien signals it understands E-77’s reasoning. It then looks to the path where it came and, seeing no one, lowers its head a bit closer to E-77’s ears. “There’s a bounty for your “Mistress” posted by the Automatons of Orion Nexus.”

E-77’s eyes widen; inside her mind, Elara’s subconscious cries out in denial. “Present evidence to this claim.”

The alien hesitates; it has already given up much information. Unfortunately, this does not spare it from the sight of an enraged woman and a protective robot screaming at it from the same mouth.

“Tell me, damn it!” E-77, or perhaps Elara, or maybe both at once, draws her fist back to punch the alien again.

PUNISH THE HUNTER. PROTECT MISTRESS.

At that moment, X-7 pushes herself free from the alien’s grip using her four hands and some deft motions of her upper body. The alien does not grab her in time, leaving X-7 able to step away and press a hand against the new electrical burn marks on her side.

“Release the alien, E-Seventy-Seven,” X-7 commands.

“Yes, Mistress.” E-77 complies instantly, the glint of human tears in her eyes. X-7 does not comment on this while moving to block the alien’s way out of the narrow path.

“I have overheard part of your conversation while rebooting,” X-7 tells the alien. “Where is the evidence of your claim for being a bounty hunter?”

The alien, now outnumbered, does not resist further. It reaches into its coat again, but instead of a weapon it produces a small, triangular data storage device. X-7 takes this device and holds it in one of her four hands. One of her fingers on a free hand extends out to reveal a jack-in port, which she connects to.

For several seconds, X-7 wanders through the data inside this device. Meanwhile, E-77 holds the alien still, her strength proving a good measure towards keeping the larger being in check. X-7 eventually disconnects herself from the device, keeping it in her hand.

“It’s true.” X-7’s fingers wrap around the device with careful movements. “This is a contract for my retrieval, with a reward in legitimized credits. It is signed and authorized by Unit A-Twelve of the Automatons.”

E-77 growls, unable to hold Elara’s emotions back. X-7 does not react negatively to this; the alien stays quiet too, recognizing that silence is the better part of safety.

“We will keep this evidence for ourselves.” X-7 tightens her grip around the device and looks to the alien. The robot’s blue eyes narrow inside her visor, reflecting human anger. “Leave us, bounty hunter. Never pursue us again.”

E-77 steps back from the alien, allowing it to move unhindered. X-7 steps to the side of the path, letting the alien walk by. It does so while adjusting its coat, moving fast and not looking back. When it is gone, E-77 watches for a few seconds longer while X-7 opens her hand back up to look at the device once more.

“Mistress?” E-77 asks while not looking away from her current guard duty. “What is your plan?”

X-7 spends several seconds in contemplation. “We must prepare,” she finally answers. “I doubt they will attack this cruiser head-on to get us.”

“Will there be more hunters?” E-77 asks this with a twinge of concern; she was able to subdue this one, but others will not be like this.

“We cannot ignore the possibility.” X-7 makes her decision and walks over to her servant. “We will discuss this later. E-Seventy-Seven, enter Hibernation Mode.”

A familiar snap of fingers, one pair by both of E-77’s ears, triggers the appropriate response. “Hibernation Mode engaged. Good night, Mistress.”

X-7 grabs Elara’s body and holds her close. Very close, in fact, so that she can contain the writhing, stammering Elara when she first regains dominance. An observer would probably think the robot was comforting her like a mother would a scared child.

“Oh, geez, oh, geez, oh geez!” Elara’s voice is muffled until she raises her head up from X-7’s chest, her face bright red and her cheeks glistening with fresh tears. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt anywhere?” she asks, repeating a question that X-7 has already answered for herself.

X-7 lets Elara stand on her own before shrugging her upper two arms. “Perhaps my pride is damaged. Otherwise, I am fine.” Elara’s beaming smile is a comfort to X-7, but the robot’s processing power moves to the next step forward. “Let’s get back to our room. We can begin our plans tomorrow.”

Elara reaches out to X-7, who takes her hand and holds it tight. They keep their hands held while stepping out into the nearest corridors, not caring who or what may be watching them. For the moment, they are content with each other’s presence; they are glad to be alive.

Elara squeezes x-7’s hand for strength. “Do you think we can still enjoy the cruise?”

X-7 chuckles, recognizing the truth behind that question. “Certainly, Captain! But I insist you rest before we have any more “adventures” today.” The robot uses one of her free arms to make air quotations, a human gesture of sarcasm that gets a laugh from Elara. This, in turn, confirms to X-7 that her methods are working.

She is growing reliant on her other personality. That is good; logic dictates it will help us in the end.