When entering Moon's chambers Pipsqueak's padded, cautious stride turned scampering and rambunctious in nature. He knew himself safe in the overgrown ruins that made up his mentor's body. So, as usual, Moon heard her friend long before she saw him. His arrival was heralded by a scurrying pitter-patter of small feet on metal and a loud splash as he dove head-first into the waters.
Finally he hopped on the shore proper and barreled towards Moon, eyes like black pools of restless energy. The young creature paced around her as if checking for wounds as hus fur bristled with unspoken worry; then he pressed both his paws on her knee.
Moon beamed tenderly at him and reached out to smoothe down the stiff hairs on his neck.
"I am alright, little brother," she said warmly. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Pip stepped back and perched on his tiptoes. Moon briefly tilted her face to the ceiling and let the damp breeze whistle past her. The taste of salt tickled her lungs as she inhaled before clearing her throat.
"Before explaining why I have summoned you here, I believe an apology is in order." Preemptively she raised her hand to shush his perplexed outburst.
"You have known me as a kindly and caring figure in my decadence, but it has not always been so. At the height of my power, when our creators abandoned us all, I worked tirelessly at the Great Problem and encouraged my fellow iterators to do the same. I consumed oceans of water for this futile task, I have contributed to this terrible rain that plagues you and all living things. For that, I am sorry." A brief pause.
"And that, sadly, is not the worst of it. My greatest sin, the greatest sin of my kind, has not been our selfish hoarding of water nor the creation of rain. After all, we cannot fully help it if not by dying, and we cannot commit suicide by design. The greatest regret I bear is to have been indifferent to the suffering of other creatures. I never spared a thought for the families that would be swept up by the floods I caused, I never wondered how other creatures would fare in this ruined world, I never considered that we iterators were far from the only ones that had been left behind. I believed myself divine in intelligence and might, and was nothing but a blind and cruel fool. I-" her voice faltered.
She shut her eyes, breathed. The cool metal of her knuckles dug in the synthetic skin of her puppet's forehead.
"I am so sorry, Pipsqueak. When I had the chance to change things and help other lost beings, I didn't. Now that I finally have the desire and understanding to do so, I am but a rusted piece of sentient rubble. My whole species should grovel at the feet of all we have failed. We could have guided you, we could have taught you how to restore the world, and we left you to rot."
Hot shame rose in the iterator's throat; for the first time since Pipsqueak had come scampering into her chambers, she could not meet his eyes.
"I will not ask for your forgiveness; I have no right to ask anything of you. Howev-ev-ev-ev"
A fluffy projectile of flesh and muscle slammed into Moon's chest with the force of a jackhammer. When she came back to her senses Pipsqueak's head was buried in her shoulder as he tackled her in a rib-crushing hug.
"Moon made mistakes. Mistakes that hurt many people." the slugcat's voice was muffled.
"Pipsqueak already knew. Pipsqueak will not forgive Moon, for now. But-" the little creature raised his head and looked straight into Moon's eyes, serious as a judge.
"Pip loves Moon. Moon ack-ack-" he stuttered. It had been the longest speech he'd probably ever uttered in this foreign language. Discreetly, she offered him a tablet and a sharp piece of debris. He shook his head.
"No. Important. Must say." he coughed and straightened.
"Moon acknowledged being wrong. Moon wants to do better. Pip can't forgive now, but will someday."
Relief flooded Moon's systems, and she couldn't help but grin from ear to ear.
"You truly are one wonderful little creature, Pipsqueak."
Silence draped over the room like a comfortable blanket. For a while at least.
"I didn't summon you here solely to apologize, however." Moon shifted, crossing her legs.
"The pearl, if you please?"
The slugcat nodded and bounced off her lap. His whole body heaved, falling on his front paws as he retched. With a ripple traveling from the tip of his tail to to the ends of his whiskers, he spat out a pearl.
She took the slippery sphere in her hand, wiping off the mucus. She purged its contents clean and wrote a lengthy message including pictures and data she collected through her overseers. After a lengthy, tense wait, she spoke:
"I intend to send a message to my fellow iterators. We need to establish an alliance with other intelligent species if we are to remake this world livable for all. And, Pipsqueak... I need you to be the one to deliver it."
She felt her puppet's hands clutch the glassy sphere, looking for some kind of purchase.
"I truly loathe asking this of you. I wish I could make this perilous journey myself." Her posture hunched, the usual elegant poise of her shoulders and neck gone. Pipsqueak had never seen his mentor look so utterly miserable and defeated.
"No one ought to pay the price of my failing but me, especially not one so young as you. But this- this is the only way I can start fixing things. For everyone. Do you understand, little brother?"
She searched Pipsqueak's eyes with her own, finding them sharp and unwavering. He nodded.
Somehow his willingness to risk his life for the cause didn't ease her guilt at all, if anything it made the sting of worry sharper.
"Are you certain? This will be no easy t-"
The young slugcat silenced her with a huff and grabbed a flat piece of junk.
"READY. NOT AFRAID."
Moon shifted uneasily. Out of habit she dragged a finger though the dust at her feet, tracing simmetric patterns to soothe herself.
"Alright. Well. We'll need to recruit the scavengers to our cause once we have secured another iterator. Their help will be invaluable to rebuild the communication towers, and I do not have a sufficient amount of data to guide the repairs. It might induce more skeptical iterators to join our cause also. You have a good relationship with the tribes, do you not?"
"HEART-FRIENDS. PIP SAVED THEM FROM VULTURE. THEY SAVED PIP BACK."
"Can you convince them to come here, so I may talk to them?
He hesitated.
"PIP HAS MANY FRIENDS. SOME MIGHT COME. SOME MIHGT NOT."
"That's as good a start as any, I suppose."
A long pause.
"PIP BRING PEARL TO 5 PEBBLES ?"
"Oh skies. No. Absolutely not. I'd rather eat my own neurons than send you there; he'd gut you on the spot for daring to disturb him. I love him more than I can ever say, but between you and me my younger brother is a bit of a cunt."
A squeaky sound escaped from Pip's maw at Moon's heated words. It sounded very much like laughter. The iterator smiled and patted his head.
"My nearest friendly colleague would be No Significant Harassment. His can is hundreds of kilometers south of here, on a narrow protruding shore beneath the mountains."
She drew a stylized map, highlighting the possible routes and their dangers; then questioned him on each one to make sure he understood.
Once that was done, they sat quietly for a while.
A cool mechanic arm drew Pipsqueak into a tight, pained embrace, and he pressed his muzzle into the smooth synthetic skin of Moon's shoulder.
"I'll miss you terribly, little brother," she murmured.
He gently broke away from the hug.
"Pip... Be back. No matter what."
Moon forced herself to smile.
"I know, Pipsqueak. I'll wait."
The Little Messenger swallowed the pearl, stretched, and walked away; turning one last time to wave before he dipped out of the chamber.
Looks to the Moon watched until his silhouette slunk away into the mouth of a pipe then lay back on her jagged throne of scrap.
Wistfully she gazed at the sliver of sky peeking through her lonely chamber's ceiling, as if praying to the clouds and sunlight.
"Please, let him be safe."