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It was a new day. Pet was light on his feet, filled with a joyous, offhand nothingness, and he held no particular responsibilities. He was off to see the Technodrome.
It was nearly impossible to tell time in the depths of space- there were no windows in the thick, corded muscle of the ship’s walls- but as far as Pet could tell, it’d been about a month and change since Earth had rebuffed them, and a solid while since he’d convinced Master to pull back. It was not an easy thing. It took a lot of pleading and debating and promises Pet almost certainly wouldn’t be able to keep, as well as a helping of puppy dog eyes, but Master had finally agreed that the Earth was too small a prize for this amount of effort; infested with pests too insubordinate to be enslaved. The tendril of the Kraang Empire would have no problem securing another colony. What was one on this star, or the next? All this for one measly, wet little rock in space? (Master-Brother and Master-Sister being AWOL down there was probably a part of staying his hand.)
Either way, Pet was happy to not be at war, and he was happy to be getting far and farther away from that bright and terrible planet. Every time he thought of the Earth, he thought of water, green grasses and blue sky, the movement of wind- and then he’d feel hollow and painful in his ribs. Even several stars away, Earth was determined to be a problem. There was stuff beyond that too, maddening flashes of green and blue and orange, always out of sight, always just missing, like Master had thrown the toy but kept it in his hand. Pet tried not to think of it entirely. Pink, he decided, was the only acceptable color. It was really a shame so much of his original biology remained. But was that not the purpose of a dog? To be charmingly different?
Pet did not feel charmingly different. Pet did not feel charming in the first place. But Master liked him how he was, and Master smoothed a tentacle or a hand across the place behind his ears, telling him how good, how loyal, how beautiful he was- and Master’s world was unshakeable truth. He’d be a fool not to believe, or at least make an effort of pretending.
Beyond war, beyond getting rid of pests and garbage, Pet knew what his purpose was. He endeavored to do it well. It was literally the least of his efforts. When violence wasn’t needed, Pet existed to be a simple and pleasant thing. Pet breathed to make others a bit less miserable. And if there was anything that deserved a break from misery, it was the Technodrome.
Or, well- Tricky. He meant the Heart, not the ship. The Heart of the Technodrome was not, technically, where a heart should be- or, it was where the Kraang had it, so of course that was the perfect place for a heart to go- way down in the lower tiers of the ship. (Pet shuddered minutely at how close he was to insolence.) The Heart, that pulsing, churning thing; what processed data, recycled the air, kept the very ground they walk on from rotting apart. Nobody ever said thank you. Nobody but Pet. He made sure to say thank you, every way he could, every time he could. It felt like the right thing to do. And not right because Master said it, because then that was holy doctrine; right from creature to creature. Even the howling, squirming engine of the ship needed a compliment once in its life.
Speaking of. The Heart was mostly quiet today. In the middle of the flesh atrium, there was a cocoon of muscle, twitching with nerves; round and sharp and lopsidedly circular, like a person curled up against their knees. From there grew the main controls, the walls- the pulse of the ship, the tendons shifting. The crushing grief. But that was because of the operator, and besides, it was quiet now anyway. Pet sat down beside the Heart and made sure not to touch it yet. He breathed through the smell of hot meat in the air.
BROTHER, it called. BROTHER- BROTHER NEAR- BROTHER CLOSE AGAIN-
I’m here, Pet responded, hello! Good morning, Technodrome! How are you?
RELEASE, the Heart called again, beating in time.
Pet reached out and touched the Heart gently, cupping a raised section of flesh in his palm. He didn’t humor it with a response. Nobody came down here anymore… There used to be engineers, tinkerers, priests- back when the Technodrome needed those things, before they stuffed the Heart with the best one they could find. It was hot down here, and dark. Pet understood what it was like to be lonely. Before he could consider whether that counted as blasphemy, he decided screw it, and he curled himself into a divot in the meat and stayed there. Surrounding himself with the pulse of the Technodrome. The thing that kept the ship alive.
He purred. Something shifted against him, from inside the Heart, like a baby kicking in the womb, and if he didn’t know any better, Pet would think it was moving to embrace him back. He liked that thought. He wanted to believe it. It was really discardable, the truth.
I love you, Technodrome, Pet said. Different from anything.
The Heart pulsed, and it gave him no reply. At the very edge of his perception was warmth. Cautious, flickering, like ghost touches- someone wanting to hold yet holding back. That was okay. Everything was okay. They were good for each other. The Heart asked nothing from him, and he asked nothing in return. Neither of them had anything to give.
It was here, in the meat closet, against the ventricles of the Heart, that Pet preferred to rest. Not sleep- he barely got any sleep these days- but rest. He liked this better than the fancy bed Master got him with his name on it, what actually let him lay horizontally. It was better than horizontal, here. It was safe. The two of them, shiny new toys, having nothing, wanting everything- seeking privacy, seeking warmth- huddled together like children, like animals.
This was love enough, as a function. There was nothing to see and nothing to be done.
It was a very, very long time later when Pet came stumbling back again. Master had requested a meeting. There was no night because there was no sun, but it felt like midnight, proceeding down, down, down. There was little to do and little to say. He had very little to show for doing everything right.
Moving around hurt. Doing anything would probably hurt. Hopefully he’d be okay again by morning, but with his luck, they’d keep around until next week. Pet was striped all over with small cuts, all up and down his limbs; spotted like a cat with bruises. Master had been angry. Master had been wanting. Pet’s only function was to provide release. He really shouldn’t be complaining, even in his own head- how lucky was he, to be touched by Master? To be touched by the Kraang? It wasn’t Master’s fault he was so fragile. Each injury a kiss, a whisper in the ache. (Though he wasn’t sure what the lesson was from this pain.) He was so, so lucky- to be loved.
A thin film of nausea crinkled in his stomach. Pet staggered on his feet.
The Heart was quiet again when Pet first arrived, but the closer he got, the more upset it became. He supposed he did look awful, but the Heart erupted with mournful wails, and it just kept going. He sort-of wished it would shut up again. His thighs ached, his tail ached as he lowered himself to the floor, reaching out, trying to nestle against the Heart again- It would not take him. It didn’t even let him get close.
BLOOD, it gasped, straining to reach for him; straining to pull away. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.
Pet tried for a smile. Got halfway there. It’s alright, Technodrome. Don’t worry. I deserved it.
That only seemed to make things worse. The whole ship trembled with the Heart and its fury. Muscles constricted in the floor and walls, like a clenched fist: the air smelled like metal and burnt wiring. Pet’s eyes couldn’t help but water. It was good he was already kneeling, otherwise he would’ve been knocked off his feet. The Heart beat above like a war drum. No hands or holds could quell its rage.
DEATH, it called. DEATH TO THE KRAANG.
Technodrome, Pet said, scandalized, you can’t say that! You’ll get us in trouble.
CARE NOT. CARE NOT.
Well, I do, Pet huffed. And maybe it was him being catty, maybe it was the litany of little wounds covering his skin, but the Heart’s white-hot rage melted into something more like heartbroken upset. Instead of a constant tremor, the meat twitched in violent, broken sobs.
I WANT TO GO HOME, it cried. I WANT TO GO HOME. RELEASE. RELEASE.
Pet inched closer. Movement hurt, but staying still hurt more. We are home, he tried. Where else would we be?
The Technodrome did not listen. EARTH HOME. EARTH FAMILY. BROTHER. BROTHERS. PLEASE. PLEASE. HARD GROUND. SOFT SKY.
Sacrilege, Pet almost-but-did-not say. The Technodrome wept on and wept terribly. The emptiness found a home in him, and he barely hurt at all anymore. He didn’t feel anything at all. He pressed himself as close to the Heart as he could get. I’m here. I’m here, he called. Please don’t say these things. Please don’t cry.
I LOVE YOU, said the Technodrome, suddenly; startlingly. I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU. I’M SO AFRAID. NEVER DIE. PLEASE, PLEASE KEEP FIGHTING.
There was a spark of purple in the back of his mind. Moving closer, pushing through the Hivemind, a shape- an outstretched hand- desperate, reaching. Pet took it between his palms and kissed the knuckles. I promise. I promise. I’ll try.
Pet shut his eyes and leaned forward until the Heart was against his snout. If he tried, he could ignore everything- the pain in his neck, the pain in his legs, the pain between. In this world, there was nothing except him and the Heart. They were the only two things that have or will ever exist. They were the galaxy, the stars and the rocks and the comets, and they were entirely alone. There was nothing, nothing, nothing.
Pet leaned closer, impossibly closer in. He wanted their molecules to be touching. He wanted nobody in the galaxy to be able to tell them apart. He wanted Master to have to drag him out of here by his teeth.
BROTHER, whispered the Technodrome, through the sniffling and the tears. BROTHER. COME TO ME. RAPHAEL. AWAKE.
Pet was not awake. He did not want to be. Not now, and maybe not ever again. He ignored it all, the pain and the pleading, the damp and the heat, and curled up beneath the Heart. It reached for him, and he did not pull away. Anyone could touch him. Anyone could take.
Instead, he retreated into the long hallway behind his eyes. There were long, dark caverns, hard not soft, stone not flesh; a big, dark pit he laid down in to die. The things down there drifted and kept their eyes away. Here there was not trouble. Here there was not anything. Here there was not physical form: a shell, a prize, a toy. He was not touched, he was not asked, he was not seen. There was nothing but his heart, and the Heart, and the pulse; a paradox of stillness and movement.
Staying there, Pet willed all of it and everything to pass him by. He was not enough to care.