To have a heart

Cold was not something he felt. As an android, he couldn't experience anything the same way as others, such as the cold weather, or the taste of food that he tried to make. But Siberia was undoubtedly cold. Even he felt it, not in his surface plating or wires but in something inside of him that was simply telling him that Siberia was unforgiving and cold.

It reminded him of her. And just the thought of her sent a jolt of unfamiliar feeling down his body. It seemed bitter and he didn't like it at all so he ignored it and focused instead on the task at hand.

Siberia was unforgiving to anybody who didn't come prepared; it fought with its harsh winds and icy landscape.

And it was equally unforgiving to his master. They had gotten the emergency signal just thirty minutes ago, but his master had been missing for over ten hours.

There had been a haze of worry since he’d been disconnected from the coms. The Council was a mess trying to relocate their boss. And he, finally, had been sent to Siberia to track his last known coordinates. However, the emergency signal had failed. But the worry felt by others was matched with his own and the information that people were counting on him gave him the determination to get to his master sooner.


The base was not that different from the rest of the land. The openness of the place did not only allow snow in but it also gave him view of the vast grey surfaces scattered with rubble. Everything was a blur - but not for him. He had been programmed in such a way that this set back would not disturb his search. 

He scanned the area for a sign of his master.

His eyes caught a fleeting splash of red and he made his way to the room, phasing through the wall without a second to think. 
His master was laying on the ground, still in the armour, which was stained with growing ice that filled the scratches. The ice didn't quite reach his face, but his eyes lingered a bit on the broken machinery.

The helmet was not retracted but had been ripped clean off, his masters face was bare for the world to see, vulnerable to the attack of the ice. 
Dark circles lined his closed eyes, in addition to a black eye, forming on his paling face. 

From his mouth, dried blood had formed around his lips. The entire image gave him a bad feeling. His masters body was too still and gave no sign of life, or a single breath. 

The sound of the medic jet landing filtered through his ears and he hovered closer to his master, paying no attention to the rest of the mess around him. He stood. Next to his masters body, he had no idea what to do. 

Which wasn’t entirely true. He had been programmed with the necessary medical information. He knew how to stop a bleeding, how to temporarily fix a wound, how to resuscitate if necessary. But he couldn’t move. 

The medics were moving past him before he knew they had exited the plane. The team only hesitated for a second when the scene in front of them stopped them in their tracks - the sight of so much destruction enough to fill anyones heart with dread. 

They leaned down to feel his pulse. He should have done that. why hadn’t he done that?

A quiet second passed, then another, and he began worrying. Why hadn’t he been able to access this piece of medial programming.

Why had he hesitated? 

 "He's alive."

Those words seemed to spark life into everyone. Two medics rolled in a stretcher, somehow managing to avoid the patches of ice, while two others bent down to lift his body. 

They paused, looked at each other, then looked at him. He stared back, apathetically but not unkindly, waiting for the question.

 "Is there a way we can take the armour off? We can't carry him with all the extra weight."

"My enhanced strength may be enough that I could carry him to the jet myself," he said. 

"I believe Master has many emergency protocols in place in case he is unconscious. One of these protocols is that it is impossible to remove the suit unless you have authorisation."

He stopped his hovering and leaned over to secure his arms around his master, his body cold to the touch. 

If he was human, he thought, he would probably feel the cold attacking his body, as it was doing to his master.

He stared down as his master twisted in his arms, fresh blood gurgling from his mouth as he whispered something so muffled and soft that he barely caught it. 

If he was human, he thought, he wouldn’t have been able to make it out. 

His masters eyes were unfocused, and closed just as quickly as they opened and the man's body fell still.

"We need to hurry up. He's goddamn lucky to be alive."


As he carried his master to the jet and strapped him in, he chose to stay on the jet instead of flying alongside it. He couldn't help but think that his master was in no way lucky as the words that escaped the man's mouth repeated themselves in his internal processor:

“help me, please”.

If he was human; if he had a heart, he thought suddenly, he believed it would be breaking.