The ground shook, little by little, as if struggling to awaken from a long-lasting slumber. Far beyond the normal reaches of the city, where terrain lay over ancient graveyards, cracks and breaks spread like webbing across the dry, dehydrated landscape. As the final tremors petered out and the last cracks made their way through the earth, there was one left that had something very particular to do; reaching down into the deepest reaches of the surface, like a finger poised to flip a switch, it breached a very vital wall, popped an artery with blood ready to burst.
Interior alarms sounded across the inside complex as loose dirt and sand spilled through the new gap in their ceiling, as air rushed into the once perfect vacuum. Old screens sparked to life and the first noises through the rooms were the blaring, shrilling sirens. The standing army that had called this place home for several hundred years, sleeping and waiting, now awoken for their purpose. Cameras sparked to life, joints turned straight to high gear, chassis that had not been moved in ages animated to receive orders. Though there was no mind to fill their processors, no soul to fill their body, they moved as if alive for the very first time.
In the background, computers ran algorithms and calculations, displaying them all on one screen in a secluded section of the complex. One part map, one part tectonic graphing, slowly coming around to identifying the epicenter of the tremors that had awoken them.
As one could expect, it identified the source in short order: a large red dot appeared on a satellite image of the Axiom colony, perfectly where their latest clean-up project had begun. The information was promptly uploaded to a private server and distributed to a small contingent of robotic scouts, being prepared for an outside expedition.
Hunched over and hooked into a power cable to charge their batteries, the machines were already plotting the route, deciding on adequate observation positions. Arms and machines from the walls began applying regular maintenance that the drones had not seen in many, many ages. Joints were oiled, servos repaired, rust removed with acids, and chassis buffed with wax.
As their energy stores filled and the airlock into the exit tunnels slowly began to open, Unit 5 found its systems slowing down. It submitted a diagnostics request. Negative, no malfunctions were detected. Another request, denied, redundant.
Very well, Unit 5 continued out the door with the other scout robots, running consistent scans over the structures supporting what used to actually be an old mineshaft. Created during the scramble for resources, when national parks finally caved and were opened to mining, they were eventually bought by BnL for their own... pet projects.
Unit 5 looked down some of the branching tunnels, but they were too dark for its flashlight to penetrate. It could vaguely make out the rough outline of a minecart and old equipment scattered across the floor, but nothing interesting or worth investigating.
Unit 2 looked back at Unit 5, who had stopped to look down the tunnel. Strange. "Problem?" Barely a word in English, more of a grunted noise, rough with the sounds of dust and wear.
Unit 5 looked to Unit 2, not realizing it had stopped to look down the tunnel. The curious Unit shook its head, responding in kind with an identical voice, "No, apologies."
"Repeat?" Unit 2 was familiar with the term, but was not programmed to respond to it.
"Apologies."
"Define."
Unit 5 paused, then shook its head, "No."
"Diagnostic?"
"Negative."
"Faulty, return to base."
Unit 5 responded with only noise: an angry, frustrated growl that it did not even know it could make. Its body took an automatic pose, defensive protocols kicking in without prompting. "Denied." Unit 5 was almost taken aback by its own behavior. None of this computed logically, it was entirely irrational.
Unit 2 didn't seem to process the entirety of the situation, "Faulty, return to base." It specifically accentuated that final part, trying to make it as clear as possible.
Some alarm somewhere inside Unit 5 went off, but it went unheard as the machine backed itself into the tunnel it had been looking down just moments ago. And to make sure they couldn't follow it, Unit 5 used one of the mounted "defensive" bolt-flingers on its shoulders and collapsed the tunnel behind it.
The Bosun Whistle sounded as McCrea stepped off the elevator, John and Teks turning to salute the captain. Auto reluctantly turned to do the same, swallowing a flash of disgust; he was no longer given full rights to the command that McCrea now demanded and he hated it.
"Where's Steward 60?" McCrea asked simply, looking around for where the stout robot may have gone.
Auto responded pointedly, affording no loose terms, "He was dismissed from post for his personal project, had I- we known this was going to happen, I would not have allowed it."
The captain waved it off, "Not a huge deal, we'll call him if we need him. Someone brief me."
"Yes, sir-" John and Auto both started in synchronous, stumbling over each other weakly. Auto waved with a spoke on his wheel, signaling John to continue. After a moment, he did, "Sir, we just got into contact with one of the night watch, down at our newest clean-up. She reported an unidentified robot and the model is unfamiliar. It disappeared briefly after she saw it, but she says it was headed in the direction of the Axiom."
"Awaiting orders," Auto added, feeling irrationally adamant about getting the last word. He inwardly chastised himself for it, disgusted by the emotional behavior.
McCrea could only give the autopilot a look, shrugging it off and delegating to John, "Spread the word, see if you can't get me a visual on it."
John nodded, turning to his station to make it real. McCrea mentally tuned him out to focus on Auto and Teks, scratching his chin curiously. "Teks, would you mind getting a search party together? Boots on the ground, as it were; ask Steward 60 to help you with that. Auto, I wanna talk to you, meet me in my quarters. Dismissed."
Teks saluted and went to do as ordered, but for Auto, a strange feeling washed over him. It was both intrigue and curiosity, interest and apprehension. What was this about? For a moment he feared being shut down, but shook it off as illogical.
Already going to his quarters, McCrea looked back at Auto, "Oh, right, would you summon TYP-E for me as well? Thanks." Then he stepped into the elevator and descended.
Continuing in his pause, Auto did automatically as requested, but was too wrapped up in thought to remember more than just pressing the button. He didn't remember who he summoned up, it was like staying in the moment took a backseat. The worst part was that Auto didn't even notice.
Minutes passed in seconds, hours passed in minutes... Suddenly shaking out of it, Auto dropped into the captain's quarters.
It seemed the TYP-E was already there. The captain and his newly appointed assistant looked at the wheel when he arrived, McCrea raised his eyebrows inquisitively, "What took you so long?"
Auto thought for a moment, before replying earnestly, "I was making sure your orders were being fulfilled, sir."
McCrea narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "I trust them to their duties, just like I'm trusting you now."
"Yes, sir," he silently steeled himself to reply without hesitation.
"Computer, lockdown, strike the records." Before he could even finish the sentence, the computer instantly closed down the room, shutting the blinds and dimming the regular lighting.
The computer toned reply, "Records struck, no longer recording."
This next part needed to be clear and concise: "Auto, you acknowledge me as your sole authority, correct?"
Auto immediately hesitated. They were on Earth now, BnL was gone, there was no fuel sufficient in the Axiom to take them back into space, and there was nobody else raised to suit as a fitting captain. Slowly, Auto made a nodding motion, "Yes, you are the only living-"
"Good, I'm giving you a new directive," McCrea didn't bother giving Auto time to finish the sentence.
Again, the robot hesitated; what possible directive could be useful at this juncture? He made a nodding motion, "Listening."
"Directive A-One: you are to preserve the Axiom colony's presence on Earth, at any possible expense."
If Auto could grit his teeth, he would. This went against everything that he had been programmed for! What in the world did McCrea think he would accomplish with this?! Auto almost yelled, almost, "Very well, as you wish, captain."
Teks shuffled his way down the machine highway that was the Axiom midsection. This place used to be quite familiar, always bustling from one place to another, ferrying himself to some job or another, but it was always so full of activity and life. Now, this wide, dark hallway felt foreign and lonely. The FIX-IT unit pulled a spare deck of cards from a side compartment and began shuffling them, distracting himself from the disquieting silence on his way to the ward.
Just as Teks finished up a Zarrow Shuffle and checked the order to make sure it was done right, he arrived at the ward, he would have passed it if he hadn't heard Steward 60 inside. Peeking into the doorway, it became fairly obvious that there was practically no floor. It looked like the entire space had been very specifically expanded, just to house the sheer volume of Stewards. Why they hadn't gone out into the hall was simply a mystery.
Steward 60 was speaking over the events of the last ten years to the other stewards it seemed; it sounded like a speech a dictator would make to a standing army preparing for war. Teks rolled his eyes, useless pessimism.
"Stepping" into the room, Teks made a noise like he was coughing in an attempt to avoid interrupting. This was not the most amazing choice to have made because the speech stopped short and Steward 60 turned to Teks, only to remain utterly silent. They stood like that for several seconds before 60 finally ventured to start the conversation, "Yes?"
The FIX-IT bot blinked at him before slowly stowing his cards away, answering in meek, wishy-washy noises, attempting more to diffuse the situation.
60 was to have none of it, "Why are you here?"
"Oh... orders, search parties, the like." Though they did not speak English to one another, it was very clear the anxiety that Teks was continually feeling through sheer body language.
Snapping to attention, "What are the exact orders?"
"Look for any robots out of place, it sounds like an intruder."
Letting out an instinctively frustrated grunt, 60 saluted Teks sloppily and turned to his standing army, relaying orders. In moments, they were moving out into the hall and to the exit of the Axiom. Teks followed alongside 60 and another Steward, who was trading information back and forth with the apparently higher authority. Sadly, it was hard for Teks to follow along and there was nothing for him to glean from the conversation before they split and took their teams to different halves of the Axiom.
With nowhere else to go, Teks turned right around, heading back to the bridge.
Through the colony, people gripped their radios tight as a familiar voice crackled through it, "All people of the colony, please be advised, you are to stay inside your cabins. Do not be alarmed. Do not look outside. Repeat, stay inside your cabins, do not look outside, do not be alarmed. Everything is under control. Thank you."