Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 14

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With that, the Pod ceased broadcasting, plunging the atrium back into silence and shadow. The stillness lingered for a moment, heavy and oppressive, before White's expression darkened into a deep frown.

She hadn't expected to clash with Anemone of all people. The Resistance Colonel—so full of fire and grit—had proven incapable of matching her vision and efficiency. White could see it clearly: jealousy, resentment, envy. It clung to Anemone like a shroud.

But none of this was White's fault. She hadn't emptied the bunker or pulled YoRHa troops from other sectors, leaving them vulnerable. That would have been reckless, even suspicious. The force she had brought into the desert? Just enough to pass as a standard YoRHa operation. Ruthless? Yes. But YoRHa had always been ruthless. Efficient. Bloodthirsty, even.

White had long since abandoned the illusion of innocence. She knew how YoRHa was perceived—perfect, unattainable, almost alien. They were the most advanced, the most beautiful, the most powerful android models to exist. Even their uniforms were meticulously designed to dazzle and intimidate. If Anemone couldn't grasp how YoRHa operated, that was her failing—not White's.

"Thank you, 042," White said curtly, breaking her train of thought. "Return to your duties."

"Understood, Commander," the Pod droned flatly, its tone devoid of any inflection. It hovered off to rejoin 2B, who had been quietly making her rounds when White had crossed paths with her.

Since she needed to check in on her operatives anyway, White decided to make use of 042's presence.

"We're scaling back our forces?" 2B asked softly, her tone measured but calm.

"Out of consideration for the Resistance," White replied briskly.

"Understood," 2B said, her demeanor as steady and impassive as ever.

White huffed, more out of frustration with herself than anything else. She needed a distraction—anything to keep her mind off Anemone or the Resistance's shortcomings.

"How was your relaxation period, 2B?" White asked, a rare trace of amusement slipping into her voice. "Being ordered to relax with humans—surely that was an experience?"

"It was... fruitful," 2B answered slowly. "Captain 1D is still with Quartermaster Rossi. She's learning the intricacies of hydroponic farming."

"Indeed?" White asked, her curiosity piqued. "So, you've been taught gardening now, have you?"

"Yes," 2B replied, her tone as dry as ever. "Quartermaster Rossi shared a story about his grandfather."

2B had tried to picture it: a human, elderly but full of life, waking at dawn to forage in the mountains. The image had lingered longer than she anticipated.

"They're surprisingly accepting of us," White mused, almost to herself.

"I overheard something," 2B said cautiously. "Doctor Fujikawa… she was involved in our creation. That makes her a titular mother of androids, doesn't it?"

White's blonde brow arched slightly.

No one truly knew who had first created androids. The oldest records were vague, the details obscured by time. Humanity, their creators, had left behind precious little to illuminate the truth. But Fujikawa… her questions, her insight, her protectiveness—it was difficult to ignore the implications.

"If she is indeed our mother," White said after a pause, her voice quieter now, "then she must be protected at all costs."

The doctor would need protection, especially now that she was set to travel upward.

"2B," White declared, her sharp gaze flickering toward the Battle Unit. "I'm assigning you to her security detail. Doctor Fujikawa intends to leave for the surface. She'll need someone capable by her side."

The unspoken message hung heavy in the air: Others will be with her. Ensure YoRHa's interests are looked out for.

2B nodded. "Yes, Commander."

"Good," White said decisively. "She'll need additional assistance as well. An executive assistant, perhaps."

A thought struck her.

"Unit 9S will fill that role," White decided aloud.

2B didn't react outwardly, though there was a subtle shift in her tone. "9S? Why him?"

"He's been scouting near the abandoned factory. That operation should be complete by now, leaving him available," White explained. "You're an excellent Battle model, 2B, but the doctor will need support in other matters."

Android politics will need an android's insight.

"Understood," 2B said, her response as steady as ever.

Their conversation paused as the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Both androids straightened instinctively as Doctor Fujikawa appeared, flanked by the Twins. They carried her luggage, but something was new about them: both wore pristine white lab coats, their faces lit with faint grins.

"I'm ready," Fujikawa announced, her sleek black suit paired with a warm sweater beneath. Her long hair fell elegantly over her shoulders, framing her sharp features. "Call your Council, Commander."

"Yes, Doctor," White replied crisply, turning to 042. "Pod, contact the Bunker."

As White busied herself, Fujikawa turned her sharp gaze toward 2B.

"You," she said abruptly. "What's your name again?"

"2B, Doctor," she replied.

Fujikawa nodded. "Ah, yes. Next time, stop eavesdropping and just come in if you're curious."

2B stiffened. "You… knew?"

Fujikawa laughed softly. "Your heels aren't exactly stealthy, you know."

The Twins exchanged amused glances.

"My apologies," 2B said, bowing her head slightly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"None of that," Fujikawa said, waving a hand dismissively. "Shyness stops you from seizing opportunities. Do you think I got here by being shy?"

2B hesitated, then shook her head.

"Exactly," Fujikawa said firmly. "Now, you seem troubled. What's bothering you?"

"I am not troubled," 2B replied quickly, her tone clipped. "Emotions are prohibited."

Fujikawa blinked, frowning. "What?"

"Emotions are prohibited," 2B repeated. "YoRHa units are forbidden from experiencing emotion. It distracts us from completing our missions. It… compromises efficiency."

Fujikawa's expression darkened. "Who came up with that ridiculous rule?"

"The Council of Humanity," 2B answered without hesitation.

Fujikawa's gaze narrowed, but before she could respond, White reappeared.

"Doctor, I've secured—"

"Commander," Fujikawa interrupted sharply, "is it true that YoRHa prohibits emotions?"

White hesitated, her expression faltering slightly. "Yes, Doctor. A past operation saw units emotionally compromised, leading to mission failure. The rule was implemented to prevent such incidents."

Fujikawa shook her head. "If we didn't want you to feel, why would we bother giving you emotions at all?"

White and 2B exchanged uneasy glances.

"Because emotions ground you," Fujikawa said softly. "They make you human. They give you the capacity to love, to hope, to connect. If we wanted machines, we would have made machines. But we didn't. We wanted you to live. Without it, you would be empty, lost, with no reason to stand tall, no reason to choose right over wrong. Without them, what would you be? Just bodies wandering through life, a hollow shell that serves no higher purpose."

"Emotions make us weak," 2B argued, her voice faltering.

"Then would you call humanity weak for having emotions?" Fujikawa countered, her gaze piercing.

White stiffened, her usual composure cracking ever so slightly.

"It's true that emotions can lead to mistakes," Fujikawa admitted. "But they also lead to brilliance. Healing the sick, finding light in darkness, forging bonds—those things didn't happen because of cold calculation. They happened because we cared. And we wanted you to care too."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

"You don't have to understand now," Fujikawa said, her tone softening. "But someday, you will. The night's young. We still have plenty more years to go." 

"Doctor, it is not night. It is day," 2B informed her with a deadpan seriousness.

Fujikawa blinked, then chuckled softly. "It's an expression, 2B."

"...Ah."

White cleared her throat, stepping forward to refocus the conversation. "If I may," she began, her voice carefully measured. "I would like to assign my subordinates, 2B and 9S, to your protection detail, Doctor."

Before Fujikawa could respond, the Twins stepped forward, their expressions shifting in unison. Popola's delicate eyebrows knit together, her tone calm but cutting. "Are you implying we can't protect the Doctor, Commander?" she asked, her voice deceptively innocent, though her eyes burned with a quiet, guarded jealousy.

Devola, standing just behind her sister, crossed her arms, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. "We can prove ourselves right now, if you want," she added, her voice low and challenging.

White's gaze didn't waver. "Do you two have any experience with outer space operations?" she asked coolly, her tone sharp and precise.

The Twins faltered—a rare moment of hesitation flickering across their faces. Still, they didn't back down entirely.

"Tch," Fujikawa interjected, pinching the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "I am not so fragile, all of you. Relax." She gestured dismissively, her tone firm yet laced with exasperation. "Fine, Commander. I'll take them too."

"But Doc—" Devola began, her voice rising in protest, only for Fujikawa to silence her with a raised hand.

"The more the merrier," Fujikawa said decisively, brushing off the tension in the room. Her sharp gaze shifted to White. "Besides, I'm curious about these YoRHa androids. These are the latest models, aren't they?"

"They are," White confirmed, her tone clipped but professional.

"Good," Fujikawa mused, tilting her head slightly as she studied 2B. "Then I'd like to examine them as well. I'd like to see just how much your technology has advanced."

White stiffened slightly at the implication but remained silent.

"Anyway," Fujikawa continued, brushing past the conversation entirely, "I'm going to the surface to wait for the shuttle. I'm getting sick of this Bunker air."

White blinked, her usual composure cracking just slightly. "But the shuttle hasn't arrived yet," she protested. "And it's—"

Her objection was cut off as Fujikawa turned on her heel and began striding purposefully down the corridor. The Twins exchanged glances before following her without hesitation, their loyalty evident.

White sighed, her shoulders sagging just a fraction as the weight of the moment settled over her.

"Commander?" 2B asked, her voice steady but attentive.

White's gaze turned to her subordinate, her expression hardening once more. "See to it that nothing happens to our mother, 2B," she ordered, her tone carrying an unmistakable edge of finality.

2B nodded sharply, her posture straightening. "Yes, Commander."

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White watched them leave, her expression unreadable, her posture rigid.

Emotions were prohibited.

But they had been designed with them.

That was the contradiction.

White had seen emotions jeopardize countless missions. YoRHa units, too unpredictable, too reckless, had suffered greatly because of them—hence the strict ban. But she wasn't a YoRHa unit. Hell, she hadn't even replaced a single part of her body since assuming command of YoRHa.

She sighed, a rare crack in her façade.

This talk of emotions… it was making her mind wander.

She turned on her heels, intent on seeing the Lieutenant-Colonel again. Reports had to be shared. 

To her surprise, the Lieutenant-Colonel found her first—but he wasn't alone.

"Ah, White. Fujikawa told me she was leaving," the Lieutenant-Colonel said, his voice calm, composed. Behind him, Anemone followed, her face veiled by intricately beaded jewelry. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes burned with something—a quiet, simmering challenge directed squarely at White.

White swallowed her irritation. "Yes, sir. She just left. She intends to wait for the shuttle on the surface."

"Is that so?" Smith replied, nodding thoughtfully. "Then I'll send her off before she departs. Anemone assures me the surface is secure."

"You'll find fighters in every corner, sir," Anemone added with a faint smile. "Hidden, but always watching."

"YoRHa has ensured no threats will approach," White interjected, her tone clipped.

The two women locked eyes, their rivalry unspoken but palpable.

"Good work, both of you," Smith said quickly, sensing the tension. "I'm grateful for your efforts. You've done well."

White forced herself to remain composed, though she felt a flicker of satisfaction. Across from her, Anemone wore a look of quiet self-satisfaction that made White's fingers twitch with suppressed irritation.

"Anyway," Smith continued, clearly eager to diffuse the tension, "let's go. The shuttle should be arriving soon, I assume?"

"Indeed," White nodded, deliberately ignoring Anemone. "It's their fastest model. It'll have the Doctor in orbit in no time."

"Good. The sooner we can get the station operational, the sooner we can begin rebuilding the population," Smith said with a sigh. "Come along, you two."

They followed him wordlessly. The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the three stepped inside. As the elevator hummed to life, carrying them upward, the tension between the two women remained unbroken.

"Lieutenant-Colonel, a question, if I may," Anemone said, breaking the silence.

"Speak, Colonel," Smith replied.

Anemone straightened, her voice smooth and deliberate. "The repopulation efforts. I assume you'll be a part of them?"

Smith raised an eyebrow. "I will. Why?"

Anemone's lips curved into a subtle smile. "I—"

"YoRHa would be honored to assist, Lieutenant-Colonel," White interrupted, her voice steady and professional. "If it pleases you, I would be happy to bear your child."

Anemone choked.

Smith froze.

White, her face betraying no emotion, continued as if she hadn't just dropped a verbal grenade. "YoRHa models possess genetic advancements that previous generations lack. Integrated gene randomizers ensure—"

"You're not even a YoRHa model," Anemone snapped, her voice sharp with disbelief. 

White turned to her, her composure unshaken. "A simple body upgrade would suffice," she said smoothly, her voice almost serene. "As I was saying—"

"Enough," Smith interrupted, holding up a hand. His tone was calm, but the faintest hint of exasperation flickered in his eyes. Jesus Christ. He was vaguely aware that Gregory intended for the androids to be partners but he severely underestimated the man's promise on the androids willingness to be boned. He cleared his throat, clearly choosing his words carefully. "While I appreciate the… enthusiasm, let's focus on the task at hand. We'll revisit… this topic another time."

"Understood, sir," White said, bowing her head slightly, her expression as cool and composed as ever.

Anemone, still sputtering, glared at White, her composure shattered. "You're unbelievable."

White turned her gaze toward the elevator doors, ignoring the other woman as if she hadn't spoken. "I am merely offering the Lieutenant-Colonel the best option available," she said coolly.

"You? The best option? Oh please. White, you are-"

Smith's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. "This is ridiculous," he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make both women stiffen. "I am taking you both at the same time. No more arguing, no more one-upping each other. You're allies, damn it. I need you two to work together, not get into these petty, childish squabbles. Be civil with each other. Cooperate. Do you two understand me?"

His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding.

White's posture straightened even more than usual, her face a mask of calm neutrality. "Understood, Lieutenant-Colonel," she said evenly, though there was a faint tightness at the corners of her mouth that betrayed her frustration.

Anemone, on the other hand, crossed her arms and looked to the side, clearly irritated but unwilling to openly defy him. "Yes, sir," she muttered, her tone clipped and begrudging.

Smith let out a sharp exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm the rising tide of exasperation within him. These two—so sharp, so capable, so damn brilliant in their own ways—were too valuable to waste on petty rivalries. Yet here they were, constantly circling each other like wolves, ready to bare their fangs at the slightest provocation. He couldn't afford this. Humanity couldn't afford this.

The elevator dinged softly, breaking the tension in the small, enclosed space. The doors slid open, revealing the motor pool. Smith took a deep breath, stepping out with measured strides. If putting his foot down was what it took to make these two stop their bickering, so be it. 

White followed him, her movements precise and deliberate, as though she were determined to prove her unshakable composure. Anemone trailed behind, her steps slower, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the back of White's pristine uniform.

Smith's voice cut through again as they walked. "I don't care what personal grievances you have with each other. I don't care about whatever history there is between you. What I do care about is the future of this species. And right now, that future depends on all of us working together. So you two are going to set aside your differences—or at least pretend to—for the sake of humanity. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," White replied smoothly, her voice devoid of emotion.

Anemone huffed but nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir."

Smith stopped in his tracks, turning to face both women. His sharp gaze lingered on each of them in turn, his frustration plain. "Good. Because if I hear one more argument, one more snide comment, I'm going with neither of you."

Smith had given ordered, threatened, and cajoled both subordinate and superior alike in his time. But threatening to withhold sex was the first. It was absurd, it was crazy. But then again, they were now in crazy times. If he had to use himself to get their two most important allies working together, he was willing to bear the sacrifice of impregnating them both. 

White's eyes widened slightly at the threat, though her face remained otherwise composed. Anemone's lips parted, ready to protest, but she quickly thought better of it and snapped her mouth shut.

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A/N: Smith isn't going to start boning them soon. He is just promising that if they work nicely with each other, he eventually will. Lucky man. Smith isn't exactly skittish about boning them either. He's just aware how absurd his situation is. He's a dignified gentleman so he's more than capable of restraining himself. But if he was a boot though, well, you can best expect him to have bent either of them against a wall by now. 

Speaking of boots, the UN security here is a mix of nationalities.

As the voting had 2B to get reamed first, I intend to have her get over her reservations of being emotional with Fujikawa. 2B loves 9S but her emotions are complicated. So she's going to get over her insecurities with help from Mommy Fujikawa. Once she is assured of it, 9S is going to be faced with 2Booty frfr. 

I thought about getting 2B to you know, get plapped by the crew already present but I decided against it.

​Smith is clearly going to be set up with Anemone and White. 

Cruz is going to get claimed by Jackass 

Rossi has some issues that he needs time to get over with first. Fujikawa is also not ready to be with anyone at the moment. Trying to set Rossi and Fujikawa with anyone at this moment would not exactly translate well. 2B neither has a reason to sleep with anyone of the humans at the moment and hasn't interacted much with them in that way to justify a satisfying scene.