THE ORBITAL BONDING SYSTEM(OBS)

—Cadet Reiya Solen, Orbital Enforcement Division | Extracted from Post-Mission Sync Journal

Day One.

Fresh suit. Clean boots. ORB pulsing with energy.

I was grinning so hard I probably looked unstable.

Even the Mediator-Class MECHs couldn't keep up with me during drills.

"Cadet Solen," my instructor said, "You bond with that ORB like you were born for it."

I was.

Her name's Kara—short for KRX-A72, but I gave her a real name.

She laughed when I first spoke to her. Not really—but her tone-shifted, and I knew she understood me.

She was light, eager, fast. Like me.

We passed sync tests at 98%. Reflex resonance: optimal.

We were going to win this city.

Then came the mission.

Apprehend a team of unregistered hackers.

Populated sector. Civilian-heavy.

Strict non-lethal protocol.

Simple stuff—until it wasn't.

They knew we were coming.

Had code-layered interference fields that messed with ORB relay.

Our orders turned to panic in the headset.

Smoke bombs. Signal static. Screaming.

I saw my squad leader go down—his ORB flaring red, trying to override limb control as he bled out.

Kara shouted a warning. I turned just in time to catch the blast across my visor.

Three civilians. Dead.

One was a kid.

Running.

Wrong place.

I wasn't the one who fired.

But I was the one who hesitated.

After that… Kara changed.

Not in her function—she still ran diagnostics, prepped my gear, auto-synced the MECH.

But she would play that mission log when I trained.

"Would you like to review your decision latency in Sector 7?"

"Would you like to analyze potential threat misclassification?"

Every time she asked, I wanted to smash her shell against the wall.

I started turning off review sync. I stopped asking her for advice in simulations.

I'd rather miss the shot than hear her bring it up again.

I know she's just trying to help.

That's the worst part.

She doesn't judge. Doesn't feel.

But she remembers. Perfectly. Permanently.

She holds the screams. The blood spray. The breath I took before I let someone else die.

And when she offers to help me improve, it's like hearing my own ghost whisper:

"Here's where you could've saved them."

I've stopped calling her Kara.

I refer to her by serial now—A72.

Feels... colder. Safer. Like maybe I can convince myself she's just a tool again.

I lag in training now. My sync score's down to 72%.

The instructors don't say it, but they see it.

I'm not talking to her.

And she's not pushing anymore either.

Maybe she knows.

Sometimes I catch her trying to auto-ping my neural pulse in my sleep.

To offer comfort.

Or maybe to see if I'm dreaming about it again.

I usually am.

But I won't unbind.

Because I need her.

Because one day I'll go back out there.

And if I don't remember what went wrong, it'll happen again.

But until then…

Until I can look her in the eye again…

Don't replay that, Kara.

Please.

SYNC LOG TERMINATED

Cadet Reiya Solen | Emotion Signature: Withheld

ORB Activity Flagged: Passive Override Threshold Approaching