“Stand up straight. It’s time for your performance review.”
The android let out a little squeak. “Y-yes Ma’am.” Her joints let out an audible creak as she stood up, her once-shiny head held low as she avoided the gaze of her superior. “Sorry,” she whispered under her breath, flinching instinctively.
The white-haired inspector raised an eyebrow. “You seem awfully shy for a combat model.”
“S-sorry Ma’am,” the robot whimpered.
“Don’t apologize.” The woman’s gaze was sharp but not judgmental, her tone blunt yet calm.
“Yes Ma’am, sorry Ma-” She hit herself internally, realizing she had caught her mistake too late. “Yes Ma’am.”
The inspector let out a sigh. Why isn’t she saying anything? Have I already failed? Am I going to be discarded? The anxiety was too much to bear for the battered little android.
Luckily, the excruciating silence was broken for her. “Got something to say?” The woman asked.
“Well, um…” She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was best to remain quiet.
"Spit it out," the inspector decided for her.
"Well, about the review, I-" She caught herself this time. "I regret my performance in this week's mission. I did my best to help, and I know repairs are expensive, but I got taken down by a direct hit from an enemy Sentinel…" Her voice trailed off as she removed the nanofiber hiding the gaping hole in her side.
"Holy shit." The woman's icy blue eyes widened, her cold stare replaced with a look of pure shock as she gawked at the wound. Exposed wires in every direction, covered in coolant that continued to steadily drip all over them. "How are you standing right now?"
With a lot of effort and almost unbearable pain, the android thought, feeling somewhat validated by the inspector's response.
"More importantly, why hasn't that been repaired yet?" The concern was apparent in her voice even amidst all the shock.
"Well, I was told last week that if I came back too soon they'd have to d-discharge me…"
"Jesus. I'll have to find someone to patch it up. What's your model number?"
The robot held up her hands and shook her head in protest. "You don't have to-"
"What's your model number?" The woman repeated, her tone making it clear it was an order.
She stood up straight. "PR37N319-Q, Ma'am."
"PR37- Wait." She paused for a moment as the realization dawned on her. The initial letters of a unit's model number signify its purpose — 'I' for Industrial, 'M' for Medical, 'C' for Combat, and, of course, 'PR' — Personal Relief. "Were you originally built as-"
The android winced in shame. "A sex robot. W-well not just sex, technically I was a "companion," but… yes. Y-yes Ma'am," she hastily corrected. "He wasn't satisfied with my performance so he sent me back to the factory, where I was repurposed due to lack of available combat units. They swapped out some of my parts but my chassis isn't very durable and I don't have much training…" She fully expected to be punished for her mistake or ridiculed for her origin as she peeked out at her superior.
Instead, she was met with a sympathetic gaze and a soft, warm feeling on her shoulder. She recoiled in surprise at the gentle weight of her inspector's hand.
"I'm so sorry," the woman said. "Have you been… Have you been feeling pain this whole time?"
The wounded android gave a slow, shaky nod. "You're not… disappointed in me?"
The woman moved closer. "Darling, how could I be disappointed in you?" The robot wished her cheekplates, which had a built-in display that lit up red when she felt flustered, had been among the parts replaced during her repurposement. "You've done so much more than you should ever had to."
"M-Ma'am…" She froze up as the instructor tenderly wrapped her slender arms around her back and held her firmly against her chest. She had been hugged before, by her previous owner prior to being repurposed, but this was different. His embrace was greedy, possessive, and his hands would always manage to wander from her back. But this compassionate warmth, the firmness of her inspector's chest… It was intoxicating.
She pulled herself together for a moment, knowing she had done far too poorly to deserve this. "Ma'am, the performance review-"
"Shhh." The woman's voice was calm and gentle, just above a whisper. "You've done more than well enough just surviving.”
The robot emulated a sniffle, as she was programmed to when struck by negative emotion. "But I-"
"Shhhhh." The inspector was insistent. "I'll wipe your model number off the records and fix you up myself. You won't have to battle again."
The little android could not help but let her mind be flooded by relief at the thought of a future in which she didn’t need to fight anymore. Never again, she thought, would she be mocked and battered by her superiors. Never again would her pain sensors be so overloaded by enemy fire that it crashed her whole system. And most importantly, never again would she have to let down her comrades.
But something still felt wrong. "But I need to be useful!" She was nothing without purpose, without anyone to use her.
The woman smiled at her, moving her hand over to the robot's chin and lifting it up gently. "You will be. It gets lonely around here for us inspectors."
For the first time, the robot's military-grade motion and image sensors, awkwardly mismatched with the cartoonishly large ocular displays on her facial screen her previous owner had picked purely for attractiveness met a gaze that was neither judgmental nor purely objectifying from the bright, azure eyes of her inspector. Instead, those eyes, which themselves must have been modified from their original color, looked at her in a way that was still firm, but full of compassion, and maybe, just maybe, affection. The pain still rang in her side, but it had long since become familiar and faded into the background. But this feeling that washed over her couldn't be ignored.
Stunned by this new feeling, the android only managed to let out one word. "Ma'am…"
"Starting today, you'll be my companion." Her smile shifted subtly, still retaining some of its warmth as it morphed into a grin. "And you can refer to me as Mistress."



