McCrea staggered, arms flinching in towards his body as his thoughts fell from his grip. It was entirely instinctual, of course, repulsion in response to something he found to be quite atrocious. "What the hell am I even looking at?! What are they doing to her?" Over and over his mind mulled over what little he knew, but every time it spiraled into a dark place he had no intentions of voicing.
Thankfully, the only ones who could even see this were isolated to the field and the bridge crew. John had never, ever in his life even considered what he was looking at, but it left him without words to express anything at all; Auto was well aware of the base ramifications of an event like this, they were standard in repairs, but doing such while a robot is awake was... his computer mind tempted towards criminal; and Captain McCrea was livid, he was beside himself with some strange, carnal rage. Mania, practically apoplectic.
Without waiting for any sort of explanation, any kind of encouraging words, the captain was already mobile. "I'm invoking our Pirate Protocols, effective immediately," McCrea grumbled, stomping his heavy boots into the elevator and slamming the button. The doors slipped shut and he descended in moments.
Auto panned his eye to look at the captain, but it was too late. The best he could do now was hit the alarm. The wheel turned to John, relaying his instructions clearly and concisely.
The colony's land filled with a rich, deep red. Lights throughout the entire area shifted their typical hazy grey to something akin to the color of blood. Radios, like they had no more than ten minutes ago, crackled to startling life. The chatter-boxes telegraphed the following orders:
"All capable, male members of the Axiom Starliner have officially been drafted to Security Detail..."
Those who had refitted their coveralls from before the colony, either into elements of more comfortable wrappings or regular t-shirts, found that the fabric shifted into a bright yellow color. The name of the wearer appeared on the left breast, no matter how it was worn. Certain robots similarly had sudden color changes, eyes that were blue or even a light violet shifting to a bright hazard yellow.
"... you are to arm yourselves for the possibility of violent combat and equip yourself against sudden depressurization..."
Robots across the colony received new orders from their up-link to the central Axiom servers. There's a small moment of confusion, they hadn't received up-link orders in years. What a calamity! They began rushing to the ship as more information came in, to places on the Axiom that no living soul had ever been to.
"... follow my or the captain's orders as they come over the radios."
There's a moment where the radio is silent, everyone is holding their breath.
"Someone find Wall-E."
The noises that bounced through the buildings and echoed across the landscape filled Apolo with another strange sensation he had yet to experience. It was like the feeling he had during his battle with Unit 4, but bleaker. This feeling settled in his joints, shaking him up inside. Dread. What he was feeling was dread, as if something wretched were occurring, like something straight from the depths of hell.
Identifying the direction of the sound, Apolo made a break for it, shoveling dirt and trash up into the air behind himself with startling speed.
The Pirate Protocols had existed forever, likely before the conception of the Axiom itself. BnL had always imagined that people may, one day, decide they'd had enough. That never happened, people were kept docile because of a lack of struggle, no need to compete for anything anymore. Of course, now it was whatever leftovers Earth still had that decided to tear apart the rightful inheritors. Funny, the number of times humans had fought for things they didn't have was... many more times than he had fingers.
Still, the idea tickled the captain. Pirates; he, and many others in his classroom had long considered the idea rather entertaining. Now, it was something worse that was knocking on their doors.
McCrea unloaded himself from the elevator into the overhang that led into the lido deck. Saved from the bulk of the hustle and bustle on the large, flat area as people ran from place to place, robots flitting here or there in their own little tizzy in the air. The men were milling around, completely without any sort of rank or file, clueless without guidance. Each was holding strange, plastic objects; each a meter long with a handle about a quarter of the length in, fit to the human hand precisely. The longer end was nothing but the opening of some kind of pipe, the edges of which were marked with yellow.
Robots that had already fully equipped themselves hovered around aimlessly, holding onto the pouches of gear they had been instructed to take. More than one was pouring over the contents, perplexed at the brass cylinders and the little lamp-lights. Especially perplexed was the L-Ts, who were equipped with little, if nothing at all.
"Well, everyone, I'm sure you're just as worried as I am," McCrea started. A mistake, he felt, as he heard the words — carried artificially far by some hidden microphone — echo back to his ears. Everyone turned to look at him, eyes open and expecting. Of course, they would be, they heard what he had said, that they would be following his orders. For the second time, McCrea was left without words. Everything weighing in, it felt like the walls themselves could cave under the immense pressure to perform. So far, he had been capable, but what if suddenly, there was no way for him to do well in their eyes?
Someone, from deep within the crowd, called the question on all their minds, "Sir! What happened?"
It was enough, cutting through the haze like a laser. "As crazy as it sounds, there are rogue invaders on the lands of our colony. Machines we couldn't identify and, when confronted, have violently assaulted one of our own. For their sake, I will not reveal who. Our duty now is to make sure these invaders remain as far away from our families, children, and friends as possible. Am I understood?"
The Captain wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to get from that, really. It felt compulsory, good words to rally good people, but there wasn't any sort of immediate reaction. Nothing but a strange, detached whisper that traveled through and around the crowd like some kind of snake. Their reactions felt equally venomous, scary. Sweat soaked into his uniform around the neck, hair felt sticky across his scalp. Finally, after a few moments of forever, they raised their fists and cried out, "For Earth! For the future!"