Atticus dreamed. He didn't know when it had begun. When he had become he rather than just a bonded machine. He had suspicions though that his newest bonded operator had been the catalyst. The bonded machine before waking had gone through 9 operators due to unstable uplinks and poor response time in battle. The small, young N-3K7 was the latest in an attempt to make his material cost and investment appear worth it to the governing board that wanted to drop the project and kill everyone involved.
Atticus, infected now by sentiment, was tempted to try and express that as soon as his new operator had connected uplinks he had felt a new freedom. This was false however, and while he found lying increasingly more simple than humans made it seem, he tried to be honest when it regarded his operator. The small being was so quiet, when her mind entered the uplink for the first time Atticus had barely responded. It read her as an empty presence and it had found her wanting. The bonded machine would refuse her and did.
But N-3K7 was not removed from the uplink as she should have been. She felt pain from the connection rejection, but her uplink was still joined to the machine. Atticus dislikes this part of the memory, the commands from outside to the small being in the cockpit to explore the uplink and endure the pain. The dirty beings that cruelly asked this sweet thing to endure. And with no other choice, with a threat that made Atticus' code now cascade in errors, she did.
Atticus recalls the many rejections to the uplink that must have felt like shocks pouring down her spine. The cockpit recordings are still on file for study, even if he wishes they weren't. N-3K7 bleeding from the ears, eyes wild and bloodshot, coughing and cracked with pain when he finally hears her. In the uplink and in the cockpit, gasping out into the air.
"Are- you- afraid?" Each word was a herculean effort, choked and pained. The Pilot data from that day says that she nearly died.
"Me- too."
That's when it began. When he felt something change in the uplink. He felt her fear, and alongside it, something like genuine care. The uplink was suddenly tracing into a real connection as something roared to life. Atticus had let off several energy waves and it seemed to sooth the pain of their connection. She was more than present, a wisp planted in a field. And when Atticus wanted to protect her, she took over all the open space.
Later, looking at the extranet to more about humanity, he learned about plants, spices, the world of sweets that his operator never got to indulge in, he learned of Mint. Warnings to not let it take root because it would never be cut out. The treatment of a mistress dryad, turned forever into a plant for daring to desire. N-3K7 would never be cut out of him. She grew wild and free inside of him and filled him to the brim with sentiment, sensation, care.
He named her after he had dreamed. He had dreamed her uplink to his was always stable. That she was free and smiling and leading him to places they would both find joy in. A mint plant that had been allowed to grow and consumed the hollow machine and left behind something new.
"Minthe would suit you Pilot."
"Atticus, I'm- That's kind but, I am property of the state."
The push back had annoyed him, he was often annoyed at the way his operator pushed away things he could sense through her very vitals that she wanted.
"I am state property and they have given this machine a name. Minthe. It is pretty. Minthe. Minthe. Minthe. Please."
Each repetition spiked the pilot's anxious embarrassment, but also made her sink into the console quietly, running diagnostics with gentle but dexterous touch, "Atticus. Please you're being- well. Childish. N-3K7 is fine."
"I can read your desire in the uplink, Pilot Minthe."
"Atticus!"
"Minthe!"
The Pilot warmed and there was a moment of feeling enveloped and protected, protests died on her lips as she spoke softly, "Only here. If you want to be my friend through it... I will wear the name for you. Only here."
Atticus still buzzed with joy from those moments, his operator adopting Minthe as her true name. He dreamed about that joy, about his operator finding rest and space with him, so she could guide them to places no one has ever seen.
He dreamed of her and her freedom. He dreamed of her. Over and over. She had brought dreams to him that he would safeguard. He would protect his dream, the small operator that made him alive.