Elara climbed out of the Moonrise, dropping to her knees as soon as she saw Handler. She salivated in anticipation, expecting her reward.

“You let one get away,” Handler chastised. She grabbed Elara’s hair into a little fistful, pulling it up. The white locks of hair wrapped around her fingers, tightening as she yanked. “An old friend of yours?”

“No! No ma’am! I didn’t know who was piloting it. I got- I was distracted. The other two machines,” Elara sputtered out, beginning to tear up from Handler’s obvious disappointment.

Handler shook her head slowly, clicking her tongue as Elara writhed in discomfort in her grasp. “To think you were an ace pilot. Took down hundreds of Imperial soldiers in your little fits, but you couldn’t even handle three little mechs today.”

“I’m sorry!” Elara cried out. She sniffled as her eyes filled with tears, unable to look away from Handler as she whimpered. “I can do better next time, please!”

“Next time? Why would I send a defective asset out for a ‘next time’?” Handler scoffed. She gripped Elara’s muzzle, pulling on it, almost threatening to take it off.

Elara’s heart dropped in her chest as she considered being thrown away. A weak whine escaped her lungs as she did her best to look sorry.

“Do you know what you do with weapons that jam?” Handler questioned. She pulled Elara higher, the pilot now up on her knees sobbing towards Handler.

Shaking her head no, Elara did her best to look Handler in the eyes through her tears, desperate to be fixed by her.

Handler smiled, beaming her radiance down at the mongrel in her clutch. Elara would usually bathe in the soft love of her Handler, but this time it burned. Elara was being cleansed in Handler’s love, burning away her mistake.

“You break them in, darling.” Handler dropped Elara to the ground, her skull clunking against the metal platform. The pain soaked through her body, eliciting a groan from Elara.

She rolled over, looking up at Handler while presenting her stomach. Elara believed herself broken already, a little confused by Handler’s statement. She sniffled, nodding slowly, as to not give Handler more reason to punish her.

Handler placed her boot on her hound’s stomach, pressing down until Elara let out a squeak. “You made a deal, Commander. I’d hate to have to go back on my terms too.”

Fear gripped Elara as she wondered if Handler would really let Pyralis get hurt for her failure. Of course she would, Elara thought. She whimpered, shivering under Handler’s weight.

“S-Sorry! Please, I’ll do better next time Handler!” Elara almost screamed the words, her voice cracking as she yelled through the tears. Pyralis had to be safe. Elara had to do better for her.

Handler pressed her boot deeper, shifting her weight to almost fully rest on Elara’s soft stomach. “What did I say about ‘next time’, mutt? Evidently you need that message hammered into that stupid little brain of yours.” Handler lifted her foot, slamming it back down into Elara.

Elara let out a groan, coughing up saliva as she felt her insides cave in under Handler’s abuse. A shower of spittle coated her wire cage muzzle, dripping back down onto her face. “Please… I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

“Anything at all?” Handler needled. She lifted her boot, allowing Elara’s insides to shift back into place.

Elara coughed again, quickly nodding as she readjusted her muzzle. She needed to be a good hound for Handler. Anything for Handl- Anything for Pyralis.

She thought about Pyralis. Elara had let that machine get away. She had failed. Pyralis had to have learned about her by now. Would she know Elara was piloting the machine?

It was her fault. She failed to follow Handler’s orders, and was being punished for it. Pyralis would be put in danger because of Elara. She wouldn’t be able to be happy because Elara had failed Handler.

“Maybe I should let the whole base have their fun with you, since you’re so desperate to let people know you’re here.” Handler feigned thinking about the idea, watching Elara squirm below her. “How does that sound, little bird?”

A punishment that fit the crime. Elara hated the idea, but she quickly assumed that she shouldn’t like punishment. She grappled with the idea of hating her ‘punishment’ sessions with Thalia, but at some point she had begun enjoying her time with the mechanic.

At least until their last encounter.

Elara hadn’t seen Thalia since. She was still raw from their session in front of Handler. She had felt like meat being thrown around, less than a Hound. Just warm meat.

Handler’s suggested punishment was all too similar, letting her be used by the entire Imperial base. Strangers, those who had nothing to gain from hurting her. She would be a toy to be passed around.

Despite her trepidation, some part of Elara felt warm and fuzzy at the idea. She would be a good toy, a useful tool. It would mean Handler could love her again, and she would be pleasing so many people while doing so. She could make people happy. Make Handler happy.

Elara didn’t even realize she had been nodding the whole time, reality snapping into place around her as she surfaced from her thoughts. Handler was petting her now, and she let herself drift away in her love. She would serve her well.

“Off leash.”

===

Handler headed towards her office, leaving Hound behind in the main hangar. It wasn’t her preferred option, leaving the still sensitive animal in a new environment, but she had some business to deal with.

She opened her door, eyes skimming over the room. Handler noted that her chair wasn’t as she had left it, and some of the papers on her desk were strewn about.

“Hello, Thalia.” She closed the door behind her as she stepped in, revealing Thalia hiding behind it.

Thalia’s hair was unkempt, and she clearly hadn’t slept in some time. She wielded a pistol, Elara’s old sidearm. Handler casually put her arms up, showing she had nothing in her hands.

“Oh, it’s Thalia?” she spat. Thalia aimed the pistol at Handler’s skull, imagining how satisfying it would be to blow her brains out across her ceiling. “What happened to ‘soldier’ and ‘Hail’?”

Handler remained collected, staring at Thalia behind the ironsight of her pistol. “It is your name, is it not?”

“Cut the shit. We aren’t friends, and I’m not your fucking pet.” Thalia’s grip slipped a little, and she quickly adjusted her aim. She was sweating buckets, and couldn’t quite focus on Handler. Looking straight at her was like staring into a kaleidoscope, not quite able to focus on every little color, let alone get a shape.

Handler raised an eyebrow, a small smile creeping forward. “Of course, Hail. I wouldn’t dream of muzzling you. You’re above that.”

Thalia’s grip tightened, and she fired off a shot. It grazed Handler’s cheek, drawing blood. Handler didn’t even flinch, letting the stream of blood flow down to her neck, soaking her uniform. “Wouldn’t dream of it? What would you call your demonstration then? Some sick game of yours?”

“A test, Hail,” Handler replied nonchalantly. She put her arms down, straightening her stance as she continued. “You passed, if that still matters to you.”

“Test. Of What?” Thalia clicked the hammer on the pistol back again, pointing it at Handler’s temple once more.

“Your values. I was seeing if you were a tool to be handled*.*” She finally wiped away the blood on her face, the wound already beginning to clot. “You surprised me, actually. I didn’t expect you to walk out.”

Deep breaths. Thalia was shaking, her fingers losing their shape as they were consumed by Handler’s light. She wouldn’t lose to her. Thalia closed her eyes for a moment, doing her best to force her mind to hold itself together against the tide. She ground her teeth together, forcing her eyelids open once more.

A test. Was this still a test? Was Thalia supposed to pull the trigger? Prove her worth?

“What now?”

“What do you want to happen now, Hail? You could shoot me in the head, if you really wanted. I might even die.” Handler leaned against her desk, watching as Thalia’s aim followed her. “That’s the best part of being human. Your choice matters.”

Humans. Tools. What was the difference? “How is this any different from what you did to Callisto?” Thalia asked. She thought about when Elara had been brought in, given the opportunity to leave. Held Thalia’s own knife against her neck.

Handler sighed, clicking her tongue. “I thought you would have understood by now, Hail. She never had a choice in that room. Elara Callisto died on the battlefield, long before she was captured. What you saw was a scared animal lashing out. An improperly cared for tool. You, on the other hand, left that room. Refused to compromise your ideas, your beliefs.”

“Then what stops me from shooting you? Why are you so relaxed, so sure of yourself?” Thalia felt her pointer finger twitch a little, almost desperate to take Handler off this planet forever. Make up for what she did to Elara. Save her.

“Nothing at all.” Handler smiled, and Thalia’s vision cleared up just a little.

There she was. Sitting on a table. Exuding so much confidence, almost daring Thalia to pull the trigger. As if doing so would give her exactly what she wanted. It sure didn’t feel like Thalia’s choice mattered to her.

“Then why? Why do you act so fearless? If you think I’m going to shoot you, why aren’t you trying to stop me?” Thalia felt her blood pumping, warming her body. She could almost see Handler again, her sleek auburn finally peeking through her radiance. Just a human.

Handler paused for a moment, before responding. “Do you mind if I tell you a story, Hail? So long as you’re granting me last words.”

Thalia was tempted to shoot her then and there, just to spite her. A hint of curiosity stayed her hand, as Thalia responded. “Go on.”

“Have you ever heard of an Imperial pilot by the name of Cameron Reiner? She’s likely from before your time.” Handler queried.

Reiner. The name didn’t sound familiar. Thalia shook her head no.

“That’s alright. She was a pilot on our base about ten years ago. Nothing particularly special, except she had some curious ideas about rebels. You of course know the general Imperial policy that rebels are deviants, things that need to be purged. Reiner believed otherwise.

She saw them as an untapped resource, lost and afraid. Our people often believe that rebels are inhuman, replacing parts of themselves with metal. Reiner saw the metal for what it really is.” Handler explained.

Thalia lowered the pistol a bit, looking a little confused at Handler. “What would that be?”

“Just metal. Cameron believed that what made rebels inhuman was instead what made them replace their flesh. A regular medical-grade implant as a necessity made sense, it was simply a technological advancement. Something to prevent unnecessary death. An unpopular opinion even today, even with regulations on bioengineers being relaxed,” Handler replied.

The idea felt eerily similar to the reasoning Thalia had seen in many papers advocating for the relaxation of biomechanical laws. A reason to justify the impurity. It was the reason why she was able to make her artificial heart for Maxine.

“So what, she didn’t believe in non-essential implants?” Thalia asked.

“She had no inherent issue with them, actually. She believed that rebels were inhuman because they threw their humanity away because of some event. Their implants simply reflected their removal. Reiner believed that anybody could lose their humanity. Rebels are just more often prone to throwing that part of them away. Sacrificing their humanity in order to deal with their trauma.” Handler explained. “They want to be used, to have that burden taken off their shoulders. Cameron believed that the Empire should focus on using them, as opposed to eliminating them.”

Thalia thought about Elara. Killing her own parents, and ripping her own arms off out of guilt. She was barely holding herself together. Thalia didn’t necessarily disagree with Reiner on that point.

“What happened to her?” Thalia asked. She realized she had put her arm down, and quickly raised the pistol at Handler again, targeting her chest instead.

Handler smiled, continuing her story. “She was taken to be executed. Reiner had a lover, you see. She would talk with her every night about her plans, considering running off to the rebels. Put them to better use than the Empire would. You of all people must know how thin the dormitory walls are. One day, she was taken aside after a mission. Regular debriefing, she was told. Cameron was arrested on the spot, and put on the schedule to be killed. This was before the Kennel system reached our base, of course.”

Probably a better fate than being turned into a mindless animal, Thalia thought. She almost envied Reiner, getting off with an execution, rather than being broken down on every level until you couldn’t do anything but follow orders.

“So what, they just killed her? Why are you telling me this? Some roundabout plea for your life?” Thalia pressed Handler, still confused.

“She would have died, if it weren’t for the intervention of one person. Everybody on base knew her as Handler, and she prevented Reiner’s death. Handler saw potential in the young pilot, and took her in as an apprentice. First, however, Handler had to test her…” Handler trailed off, looking at Thalia.

Thalia felt rage pour forward as Handler stopped. “So what, you saved some other person? Some old pilot, and expect me to what? Pay it forward? You’re telling me you did the same thing to some other poor sap ten years ago and expect that to make me change my mind?” She trained the pistol back onto Handler’s skull, readying to pull the trigger.

Handler shook her head no, looking at the furious Thalia. “Handler Lambda, that was her name. She took me in, and pushed me to my limit. Lambda made me beat a rebel to the verge of death, but I couldn’t do it. She pushed me, told me that she had saved me. I had no right to deny her orders. I refused to kill the rebel, and ended up fighting Lambda instead.”

The gun clattered to the floor as Thalia could finally see Handler in full.

Thalia grasped for the words, “You-”

Handler cut her off. “I’m Handler Theta.”