Self-Rescue

Chapter 3: Self-Rescue

Kestrel froze, momentarily convinced he had misheard. Had that robot just insulted him?

"What are you standing around for? Reminiscing about the good old days of slurping noodles off the Mountain of Rice in Heaven? I asked you a question."

As the robot spoke again, Kestrel finally snapped back to reality. So this was the result of the system's logic iteration. He had expected some changes, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the cold, mechanical AI would evolve to the point of developing a foul mouth.

"Incredible. The upgrade happened this fast?"

"Naturally. Ever heard of artificial intelligence?" The robot crossed its arms, leaning back slightly with an unmistakable air of pride.

Though the transformation was astonishing, it was insignificant in the face of imminent death. Kestrel had no time for shock—if they didn't find a way to survive, the entire station would plunge to its doom, taking them with it.

"Did you find the location of an escape pod in the subnet data?" he asked urgently.

"No."

That single word sent Kestrel's hope crashing into the abyss.

"But," the robot continued, "we don't actually need to escape. This thing's got a counter-thrust mechanism. No clue how much of it is still functional, but factoring in atmospheric friction and the final impact, the odds of total disintegration are under ten percent."

That was good news—sort of. But just because the station wouldn't break apart didn't mean he'd survive the landing unscathed.

Looking up at the countless metal fragments suspended in zero gravity, Kestrel could already envision them turning into lethal projectiles once gravity reclaimed them.

"We need a safe zone," he muttered, mind racing. "Somewhere that can absorb the landing impact and shield us from debris. Do you know of any place like that on this station?"

The robot shrugged dramatically. "How should I know? It's not like I used to work here."

"Damn it! Aren't you connected to subnet data? Don't tell me all you learned was how to spew insults instead of downloading a map!" Kestrel clung to the doorway, cautiously peering outside.

"Excuse me?" The robot sauntered after him. "That subnet wasn't even linked to this station. For all I know, I just hijacked some random wreck's WiFi."

It walked effortlessly across the floor despite the zero-gravity environment, as though its feet were equipped with magnets or suction pads.

"And for the record, you underestimate profanity. Swearing is the foundation of linguistic artistry."

Kestrel had no patience for the AI's nonsense—survival came first. His mind whirred, frantically assembling potential solutions. Then it hit him. The red dot from earlier.

"The glitched-out monitor!"

That thing had clearly been malfunctioning, rendering it useless to him. But just because he couldn't access it didn't mean something—or someone—else couldn't.

"Robot! Can you extract data from a broken terminal? Hacking, maybe?"

The robot's screen face flashed a smug emoji. (^ω^) "Who do you take me for? Hacking is in my code."

"Good. Follow me."

Navigating the floating debris, Kestrel retraced his steps.

When they re-entered the domed observation chamber, Earth loomed larger than ever. It was no longer a distant blue dot—it was a titan, growing steadily, a cosmic Leviathan stretching open its abyssal maw, ready to swallow them whole.

A suffocating dread settled over Kestrel. He had never truly understood the weight of the word "planet" until this moment. The sheer enormity of Earth triggered an overwhelming, primal terror.

Forcing himself to look away, he hurried to the flickering monitor. "This is it. Get to work. We're running out of time."

"Watch and learn."

The robot's left hand split open, revealing fiber-optic tendrils that slithered into the monitor's exposed circuits. The screen flickered violently, flashing remnants of advertisements—this was nothing more than a sightseeing deck.

Then—a sharp crack.

Kestrel snapped his head toward the sound.

A jagged fracture streaked across the base of the observation glass, spiderwebbing outward at an alarming rate.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"Move it! This thing isn't gonna hold!"

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he frantically searched for a solution.

In a desperate bid, he lunged toward the red button and slammed his palm against it. The curved wall, which had lowered earlier, began to rise again.

But he was too late.

With a deafening shatter, the observation window exploded outward, sucked into the void. A monstrous force yanked at Kestrel's body, trying to pull him into the abyss of space.

At the last possible moment, he grabbed onto a chair, wedging himself into it with every ounce of strength he had.

A searing agony ripped through his body as the vacuum of space began to take its toll—his saliva boiled, his lungs expanded, his skin burned with a suffocating heat.

"Now, dammit!" he gasped.

The robot furiously kicked the monitor. "GIVE ME THE DATA, YOU PIECE OF JUNK!"

After a final stomp, it reached into the wreckage and retrieved a microchip no bigger than a fingernail. Plugging it into a slot on its forearm, the screen on its face flashed with a large exclamation mark.

"Got it! E4 section!"

Just as it spoke, the overhead wall finally sealed shut, cutting off the deadly vacuum.

Kestrel, pale and utterly drained, floated limply in the air, raising a trembling thumbs-up. "You're a lifesaver."

For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

The robot sauntered over and hauled him upright. "Come on. It was just one measly atmospheric decompression. You fleshbags really are fragile."

With the robot's help, Kestrel made his way to E4.

The chamber resembled a greenhouse, though the plants had long since withered into blackened husks. Their remains clung to the floor and ceiling in eerie, skeletal patterns.

"What now?" he asked warily. "Is this place even safe?"

The robot didn't respond. Instead, it lifted a finger, igniting a brilliant blue flame.

Then, with meticulous precision, it began cutting through the wall.

As the metal peeled away, something oozed from within—a translucent, jelly-like blue substance.