The sky above the decimated city groaned like rusted steel, muted by layers of ash and the distant rumble of artillery. Buildings hunched like wounded beasts, their bones exposed to the gray dawn. Inside a half-collapsed hangar reinforced with scavenged metal plating, Lin crouched in front of a torso frame of an exo-armor unit—her sleeves rolled up, callused fingers working deftly on a cracked coolant line. Sparks sputtered as her tool hissed against the junction.
"Power line's almost fried," she muttered to herself. "Can't have that failing when the perimeter's breached again."
Then—ping.
A light chirp echoed in the hangar.
Lin paused. She knew that tone. Only one bot in the compound used it—a light, bell-like note with a faint harmonic overlay. She glanced up.
From behind a toppled storage unit, a small figure zipped out: a robot no taller than a large cat, with sleek alloy plating, wide digital eyes, and a scarf made from an old tea towel.
"Mimsy?" Lin blinked.
Mimsy rolled forward, tail-light blinking. "Incoming data packet from civilian entertainment relay," the robot said cheerily, voice feminine and slightly posh. "Sourced from multiple public channels, triangulated origin uncertain, but flagged under relevant keyword… daughter's voice."
Lin's hands stilled. "Play it."
"Are you sure?" Mimsy tilted her head. "Emotional content detected at a 92.3% resonance probability. May cause distress."
"I said play it," Lin said quietly.
And then—it began.
A girl's voice, raw and trembling like silk snagged on thorns.
She walks with echoes on the pavement…
Lin's fingers lost all dexterity. The wrench slipped from her grasp, clanging loudly on the floor.
Strangers pass, their eyes slip past her…
Her breathing hitched.
Her back straightened slowly, eyes locked on nothing, yet seeing too much. Dust motes swirled in a single beam of morning light. Across the hangar, the hum of life dulled, fading beneath the melody's weight.
No one stops to see the thunder
That's storming in her eyes…
A tear slipped down Lin's oil-streaked cheek before she realized it. She reached to wipe it, but Mimsy was faster—trundling up and gently pressing a warm microfiber cloth to her skin.
"Detection confirmed," Mimsy said softly, "a biological leak of saline solution."
"It's… nothing," Lin whispered. "I'm fine."
But Mimsy cocked her head. "Luna sure knows how to tug at your heartstrings."
Lin closed her eyes. "Yeah," she breathed. "She always did."
She sat back, shoulders trembling just slightly. The heavy plating of her reinforced vest creaked with the movement. Across the room, the exo-armor frame flickered with a soft, stabilizing hum.
"Save that file," she ordered, her voice rough. "Under encryption tier Theta. Hide the IP, reroute through ghost proxies, burn metadata."
"Already done," Mimsy chirped. "Do you wish to store a backup on the personal node?"
Lin hesitated.
Her hand drifted to her chest—where a faded photo of a small girl with big curious eyes and ink-stained fingers rested inside a sealed pocket.
"…Yes," she said. "Store it close."
"As you wish."
Lin rose and walked to her terminal, wiping the rest of the tears with the back of her hand. Her expression had shifted—grief retreating behind steeled resolve.
She opened her files. Began double-checking every firewall, every routing path. She couldn't afford to be found. Not now. Not ever. Not until it was safe.
For Luna's sake.
For her baby girl.
She paused once more before shutting down the comms relay. Her eyes flicked to Mimsy.
"Delete all logs of this playback."
Mimsy's eyes blinked once in confirmation. "Deleted."
Then Lin looked toward the cracked ceiling, toward the smoke-streaked sky, and whispered:
"Keep singing, my Luna. Just… don't come looking."
And with that, she returned to her work—one bolt, one wire, one breath at a time.
But the melody stayed with her.
As did the ache.
As did the love.