The safe house offered little in the way of comfort, but after the chaos of the past day, its stillness was almost unsettling. Synthia found herself restless despite the reprieve, her mind circling the unanswered questions that hovered over the group like a shadow.
She spent most of her time observing Null and Infy, trying to piece together what she knew and what she suspected about the pair.
Null moved with an almost eerie efficiency. Every step he took seemed deliberate, every gesture precise. Yet despite his apparent focus, there was something about him that felt… off. Synthia couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was there, lurking beneath the surface—a fractured quality, like a vase carefully glued back together that still bore the hairline cracks of its breaking.
He’s broken in some way, she thought, watching him as he silently polished the blade of his sword. But how?
The story about his origins—that he was part of some alien experiment—nagged at her. She didn’t believe it.
Not really. The technology required to create something as advanced as Null and Infy was far beyond anything humanity had developed, but to her, that only meant it had to be the result of a classified project.
Someone had created them, she was sure of it. Whether they were an experiment gone wrong or a prototype abandoned for reasons unknown, she couldn’t say. The only way to get answers would be to meet this Zero person they spoke of.
And yet, as much as she doubted their story, she couldn’t deny the gaps in her understanding. Null wasn’t like any Merge she’d ever seen. He didn’t just lack a Nexus and then shackles of programming — he was more complete, more adaptable, more… something.
At least, most of the time.
There were moments when Null’s expression would go blank, his gaze distant as though he wasn’t fully present.
Other times, he would fidget with the edge of his sleeve or his sword, almost compulsively, like he was trying to ground himself.
Synthia wondered if she would ever be qualified to find out the answer to questions that nagged at her.
Over the next few days, the group had a crash course in sign language, thanks to their Nexuses. The learning process was surprisingly smooth—at least for Synthia, who already had a sharp mind for processing patterns and structures.
Nova had picked it up quickly, too, her natural curiosity and enthusiasm driving her to practice constantly with Null. She also had the advantage of using a pilot-orientated Nexus.
Helix, on the other hand, had struggled at first, his frustration showing in his short, curt gestures, but even he had started to get the hang of it by the third day despite his soldier orientated Nexus being a bad fit for the application of learning sign language.
With this new layer of communication, Null began to open up, though his responses remained brief and precise. Infy, as always, acted as the voice between him and the group, adding context where Null’s silence left questions unanswered. Over time, a rhythm developed: Null would sign, and Infy would translate, their partnership creating a quiet but effective balance that the group naturally adapted to.
During one of their discussions, the group finally learned more about what had led to the attempt on Null’s life. It had started with their ship.
Null signed something quickly, his hands moving in short, clipped motions. Infy’s orb flickered.
“Our ship’s fail-safe was triggered. When they breached the shield, the core collapsed. The implosion ensured no technology or data could be recovered.”
Nova frowned, her fingers pausing mid-gesture as she processed the words. “So… wait. Your ship imploded? Like, gone-gone? Nothing left?” As a pilot she was interested in this ship, and what it would be capable of.
Null nodded, his expression grim.
Infy’s voice buzzed again: “Correct. The fail-safe is automatic. Nothing of use survived, except for what we had on us.”
Helix’s hands twitched as he leaned forward. “What exactly did you have on you? Because that sword and suit aren’t exactly standard issue.”
Null gestured toward himself, his fingers forming the shapes of a response. Infy translated. “The only equipment we managed to recover was our nanite suit and Null’s sword.”
Synthia raised an eyebrow. “Nanite suit?” she wasn’t unfamiliar with nanites they were a core technology in a Nexus and the key to the AI-Brain connection but she never heard of them being used as armour.
Null tilted his head slightly, then stood and tapped a section of his jacket. The fabric shimmered faintly, and in an instant, the material shifted and flowed, covering his body in a sleek, black armour that hugged every contour.
The surface gleamed faintly under the light of the safe house, almost organic in its fluidity. They had seen the suit before but it’s like they were looking at it for the first time.
“It’s alive?” Nova blurted, staring wide-eyed at the transformation.
Infy’s voice buzzed faintly with amusement. “Not alive. Responsive. The suit is made of nanites—programmable matter. It adapts to Null’s needs, providing protection and enhancing his abilities when necessary.”
“And the sword?” Helix asked, his gaze flicking to the blade resting beside Null.
Infy paused, as if considering how much to reveal.
“The sword’s made from materials enhanced through Field manipulation,” Infy explained. “That’s what makes it special—it’s not just a weapon. It helps Null interact with the Fields more precisely, like an extension of his abilities.”
Nova’s eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face. “Wait, wait—are you telling me this is basically a magic sword? Like, real-life, straight-out-of-a fantasy-novel, slay-the-dragon kind of magic sword?” She leaned closer to get a better look, her excitement practically vibrating off her. “Please tell me it glows when there’s danger or something. That would be epic.”
Nova’s excited rambling went unanswered, her grin faltering slightly as both Infy and Null completely ignored her. She crossed her arms, muttering, “Fine, just act like it’s not the coolest thing ever. Whatever.”
Synthia, however, kept her focus on the sword. She frowned, tilting her head as she studied it. “If you were intent on destroying advanced technology to prevent it being captured why didn’t you destroy the sword too?”
Null’s response was immediate. He shook his head firmly, his hands moving with deliberate precision as he signed. Infy’s voice translated the gesture, calm and clear. “Gift from Father.”
The words settled over the group, silencing any further questions. Even Nova, still mildly pouting, seemed to grasp the significance.
As the days passed, the group fell into a rhythm. Nova spent most of her time practising sign language with Null, her bright curiosity cutting through his guarded demeanour in small, subtle ways. Helix busied himself with improving and repurposing the tools they had scavenged to make some makeshift weapons.
Synthia watched the group in silence, her thoughts heavy. The Martian government wasn’t going to stop hunting them, and she knew the safety of the safe house was only temporary. Their time was running out, and the pressure to act was growing stronger.
And then there was Null. He moved through the days with his usual quiet efficiency, but there was something off—a weariness, a heaviness to his movements that Synthia couldn’t ignore. She wondered if Null even realized how much strain he carried, or if it had simply become part of who he was.
Still, something had shifted. Null and Infy trusted them now. It wasn’t perfect—it felt fragile, like it could snap under too much weight—but it was there, and that was enough for the moment.
The Martian dawn cast a muted red glow through the protective sphere covering the zone, its light spilling faintly into the safe house. Inside, the group moved in relative silence, gathering their supplies.
The safehouse had served its purpose, but it was never meant to be a long-term solution. It was too cramped, too vulnerable, and lacked the tools they needed to prepare for what lay ahead. They had stayed hidden long enough—it was time to move forward.
