Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 31

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6O stood at attention, a datapad clutched tightly in her hands.

"Machine activity on the planet has increased in some areas, Ma'am," she reported, striving to sound composed. "The Ruined City, however, bears the bulk of the activity."

White said nothing, her gaze fixed on the massive screen before her. Numbers and flashes of data scrolled across it in rapid succession.

"Have there been further requests for YoRHa support?" White asked at last.

6O shook her head, her voice faltering. "N-no, uh, there haven't been any since the Resistance were granted access to armor units and—"

White's sharp gaze shifted to her, brow furrowing. "And?"

"Uh..." 6O trailed off, unwilling to finish her sentence.

White stood as she always did—tall, commanding, and composed at the head of the Bunker's Command Deck. Her uniform remained as pristine as ever, her long coat flaring behind her like the wings of a hawk. But now, it clung differently, stretched taut at the midsection. Her silhouette had changed.

Her posture was no less regal, no less authoritative, but there was a new softness to it—a fullness that couldn't be ignored.

6O hesitated, her eyes drifting downward. "Did... did your stomach always look so... um...?"

White raised a blonde eyebrow, then glanced down at herself. "Oh, that," she hummed, her tone casual. "Don't worry about it, 6O."

"But you've never had... a growth there before!" 6O exclaimed.

"Ah. Well, I am pregnant," White replied, as if she were merely commenting on the weather.

The room fell silent.

The androids stationed across the Command Deck paused, some mid-motion, and turned their eyes toward her. For a moment, only the hum of machinery and the faint buzz of distant comms could be heard.

There had been rumors, of course. Whispers exchanged in maintenance bays. Hushed conversations during downtime. But none of them had expected to see it with their own optics—the Commander herself, carrying.

No one dared speak. No one dared ask.

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!" 6O shrieked.

"Operator!" White admonished sharply. "Volume."

6O flinched at White's sharp reprimand, her face flushing a deep crimson. She bowed her head quickly. "S-sorry, Ma'am!" she stammered, her voice barely above a squeak. "I just—it's such a surprise! I didn't even—wait, how? Why? Should you even be working right now?"

White snorted, an uncharacteristic sound that drew even more attention from the androids in the room. She turned fully to face 6O, her hands still clasped behind her back, her stance unwavering despite the pronounced curve of her midsection.

"I got impregnated, Operator," White said bluntly, her cool, matter-of-fact tone making the statement sound almost absurdly casual. "That's how."

6O blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to process the words. "But... why? I mean, I know how, obviously, but—why would you—"

"Because I chose to," White interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. "And no, this pregnancy will not affect my abilities. Not one bit."

She straightened, her presence as commanding as ever, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. "I am still the Commander of YoRHa, and I will continue to fulfil my duties as I always have. Is that clear?"

The androids who had been stealing glances quickly returned to their stations, suddenly very interested in their work.

6O, however, couldn't stop herself. "But—Ma'am—I mean, shouldn't you at least take it easy? Isn't it dangerous?"

White's lips twitched, almost as if she were suppressing a smirk. "Operator, do I look like I am in need of rest? Or that I am incapable of doing my job?"

6O fidgeted, her datapad trembling slightly in her hands. "N-no, Ma'am, of course not! You're as capable as ever—more than capable! I just... I didn't know-"

"That's enough, 6O," White said, cutting her off with a raised hand. Her expression softened slightly. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, everything is under control. Now, if you're finished gawking, I suggest you return to your report."

6O nodded quickly, her blush deepening. "Y-yes, Ma'am! Right away!" She turned back to her datapad, frantically tapping at the screen as if her life depended on it.

White allowed herself a small, private smile before turning her attention back to the massive screen before her, numbers and data still whirring across it. She understood where her concern came from, but goodness, it wasn't as if she was made of glass. She was still perfectly capable of doing her job, pregnant or not.

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"No, you cannot do your job while you are pregnant," Fujikawa said bluntly. 

White sat a little straighter on her chair. "But I-" 

"No buts," Fujikawa supplied again. "You are pregnant, clearly, and your duties as YoRHa's commander is not exactly an easy job, Commander. No, you are out of a job until you give birth." 

She bit her lip. 

6O, that goddamn traitor!

​As soon as 6O returned to her post, she had alerted the nearest and most qualified superior she could think of when it came to humans, and that was Dr Fujikawa. Not a second later, a YoRHa squad had appeared, all but asking White to come with them to the Doctor's office. There, she and her assistants performed a series of tests on her. It was humiliating, invasive, and not a little embarrassing but it all but confirmed it, she was well and truly, pregnant. 

"Congratulations, Commander," Popola offered with a kind a smile. 

"A new life, born in all this goddamn chaos," Devola gushed. "You go girl." 

"Who's the father?" Popola asked, gently. 

"That would be the Lieutenant-Colonel," White coughed. 

"Ooooh," Devola hummed. Then her eyes brightened. "Does he top or yo-"

"Thank you for the input, girls," Fujikawa butted in. "That will be all" 

A groan left Devola's lips. Popola shook her head, dragging her sister out of the room. 

Outside Fujikawa's window, the stars flickered in their gentle intensity, and the moon ahead glowed in silver light. And the shining cradle light of earth. 

​Fujikawa stood from her chair, pacing around. "Do you know what must be done while pregnant, Commander?" 

"Of course," White replied. "Us androids are equipped with all necessary instructions on child care."  

It was automatic, really, like another set of protocols to follow. 

"Good thing that the Council carried over some things into you guys," Fujikawa hummed. "Then you must know you have to step down temporarily." 

"But who will run YoRHa while I am away?" White asked.

"I think it would be best to ask Camille about this," Fujikawa hummed. "It's about time the Army of Humanity and the United Nations merge anyway." 

​She stepped up, glancing down at White. "You are, I think, time-wise, the first android to get pregnant. I already know that others are hopping into the bandwagon. When they hear about that, even more will try and get a baby put into them." 

White's voice broke the silence, softer now but still tinged with frustration. "What will I do?" she asked, her hands tightening on the armrests of her chair.

Fujikawa raised an eyebrow, pausing in her pacing. "What will you do?" she echoed. "You'll rest, Commander. You'll focus on yourself and the child. And, for once, you'll let someone else handle the chaos outside."

White's jaw tightened. "Resting isn't exactly my area of expertise, Doctor."

"No kidding," Fujikawa deadpanned, folding her arms across her chest. "But unless you plan to defy a direct medical order—which I wouldn't recommend—you're going to have to learn."

White's gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers fidgeting ever so slightly. The idea of stepping away from her role, even temporarily, gnawed at her. YoRHa was her responsibility. Her purpose. And now she was being asked to... what? Sit quietly and wait?

"I don't know how to do nothing," she admitted quietly, her voice almost too low to hear.

Fujikawa softened at that, her stern demeanor easing. "You're not doing nothing, Commander. You're creating life—a first for your kind. That's hardly insignificant."

White's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't reply.

"And besides," Fujikawa continued, "you'll find ways to keep yourself busy. Knowing you, I'd guess you'll still spend half your time reviewing reports, issuing advice, or micromanaging from a distance. But you'll do it from the safety of a proper rest period."

White glanced up, her expression skeptical. "And if I don't?"

Fujikawa smirked. "Then I'll have a YoRHa squad stationed outside your quarters to make sure you do."

For once, White couldn't hide the faintest twitch of amusement at the corners of her lips. "I doubt that will be necessary."

Fujikawa gave a small shrug. "Good. Then you'll cooperate. Because whether you like it or not, Commander, this is happening. And the faster you accept it, the easier it'll be for everyone—including you."

White leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. "Can I..."

She paused.

"Yes?" Fujikawa asked.

"May I at least spend my leave with the Lieutenant-Colonel?" White asked, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment in her voice.  

Fujikawa's mouth opened before they closed into a small smile. "Of course," she hummed. "Have him take responsibility for what he did to you." 

​And that was how White became Smith's wife in all but name.

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The news spread, of course. YoRHa was still very much a group of soldiers, and when soldiers weren't fighting, they gossiped.

The fighting in the Ruined City had drawn to a lull. Despite their heavy weapons and upgraded armor units, the city—once one of humanity's grand metropolises—was still a battlefield. It stretched for miles, though much of it had been overtaken by nature. Forests crept into the ruins, deserts consumed entire districts, and parts of the city had sunk into the sea. What remained, however, was fiercely contested.

Jackass fell back into the trench with a groan, her legs aching as silence finally descended over the battlefield. Ahead of her, piles of Machine corpses lay scattered, torn apart by cannons, explosives, and—if she had to be honest with herself—mostly her explosives.

She reached for the flask on her belt, unscrewing the cap and eagerly gulping down the water inside until it was gone. Letting out a contented sigh, she leaned back, enjoying the brief peace. But then her ears caught something—voices drifting through the still air.

"I'm telling you, the Commander is pregnant!"

Jackass froze. Eh?

She turned her head, her curiosity piqued. Two YoRHa androids were walking past, their pods hovering dutifully behind them.

"Pregnant?!" one of them—a brunette—exclaimed, her voice high with disbelief. "How?"

The other one, a blonde, folded her arms and nodded knowingly. "I heard that if a human male touches you... you become pregnant."

Jackass blinked. What.

"Woah," the brunette whispered, her tone reverent. "That's incredible. Pregnancy? Can you even imagine? Bringing human life into the world?"

Jackass snorted quietly, shaking her head. The nonsense some of these YoRHa stiffs believed never ceased to amaze her.

The blonde continued, her tone conspiratorial. "I heard there's going to be a lottery system to pair androids with human partners. I don't know the details, though."

The brunette tilted her head, curious. "Would you participate?"

"Absolutely!" the blonde replied with a grin. She twirled in place, showing off her form. Her gothic lolita-style maid outfit accentuated every curve of her body, from her legs to her waist. "I mean, look at this! How could anyone say no?"

The brunette laughed, and the two androids continued their march, chatting animatedly as they disappeared into the distance.

Jackass sat there, blinking at the absurdity of what she'd just overheard. Pregnancy? The Commander? A lottery system?

Wait a goddamn minute.

If the Commander was getting pregnant, it meant that YoRHa was getting one over them when it came to restoring humanity. And-

Son of a bitch!

She needed to tell Anemone about this, immediately!

​+++

Of all the things Camille had expected to deal with, this wasn't one of them.

Word had gotten out about YoRHa androids becoming pregnant, and now, every android from top to bottom wanted a piece of the pie. And, of course, managing the fallout had landed squarely in her lap.

"I'm getting formal protests from androids planetside who want access to humans," Camille explained, her tone laced with frustration. "Despite our best attempts, it seems word always manages to leak."

Fujikawa tilted her head slightly, her expression calm but thoughtful. "It's not exactly unfair for them to make such requests. We have been away for a while."

"That's an understatement," Smith chimed in. He sat across the table, dressed sharply in UN dress blues, the signature beret perched atop his head. His tone was dry, but there was a hint of wry amusement in his voice. He looked and dressed far fresher than last Camille had seen him. Fatherhood had taken him well.

Camille sighed, leaning back in her chair. "On one hand, my fellow Councillors see no fault in their requests. They argue it's a natural progression of our mission to preserve humanity, and they're not wrong."

"But?" Fujikawa prompted.

"But," Camille continued, "we can't just accommodate every single android on the planet. That would cut into our fighting strength significantly."

"And if androids start getting pregnant en masse, that will also cut into our fighting strength," Fujikawa pointed out, folding her arms as she leaned against the table. "So, how do we reconcile this?"

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of the question lingering in the air. Outside, the faint hum of machinery and distant chatter from the command deck served as a constant reminder of the ongoing war.

Smith broke the silence, his tone practical. "It's a logistical nightmare, no matter how you slice it. If we grant widespread access to humans, we risk destabilizing our entire command structure. But if we deny them, we risk resentment—or worse, outright rebellion."

"We would never rebel, especially over this," Camille quickly added, her tone hanging on desperate. 

"But it will still create resentment anyway," Smith cut plainly. He knew enough when something desperately wanted was kept out of reach.

Fujikawa leaned forward, her gaze sharp. "Then we need to find a balance. A system. Something that preserves our fighting strength while addressing their desires. This was why I had suggested a lottery system in the first place." 

"A lottery system?" Camille asked. 

"Yes," Fujikawa nodded. "First, it was intended to be a round robin for reproduction. To keep things organized." 

"A lottery system feels forced," Smith said, coughing lightly. "And cold."

Fujikawa shrugged. "Perhaps. But for now, it's the only feasible solution. A randomized system would allow us to maintain planetary strength while ensuring fairness. It's not perfect, I know, but until we come up with something better, it's our best option."

The room fell into another uneasy silence as Camille mulled over the suggestion. "If we go with a lottery system, how do we determine eligibility? Is it purely random, or do we factor in seniority, combat readiness, or... something else?"

Fujikawa adjusted her glasses, her gaze steady. "For now, I suggest we keep it strictly random. Once we start introducing qualifiers like rank or performance, resentment could grow among those who feel overlooked. Everyone must feel they have an equal chance."

Smith shook his head lightly. "It still feels like a bandage solution."

"And it is," Fujikawa noted. "But in the absence of a better plan, better that than nothing."

So decisive. 

Camille's heart soared. 

"I shall bring this to the council immediately," she declared. 

​And so it was.

​The ticketing system crashed on the first run.

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A/N: Society.